By Dayo Ade Olusola|M10news|Lifestyle| July 28, 202
Nicole still remembers her first encounter with ketamine—a decision that altered her life forever. It was the beginning of a night out, and she was trying to avoid alcohol.
Instead, she reached for a small bag of white powder she found in a friend’s car. In her mind, this might have been a safer alternative.
“I tried it and remember thinking, ‘This is it. This is my saviour. This is my drug,’” she recalled.
But ketamine didn’t save her. It pushed her further into the mental health struggles she hoped it would ease. Now 31 and a mother of one, Nicole lives in a detox centre in Southport, separated from her son and plagued by chronic pain.
Her story—from casual experimentation to an addiction that ravaged her bladder and kidneys—may seem extreme. But experts warn it is a growing reality, and one that could unleash a wave of health issues for which the UK is woefully unprepared.
Though ketamine remains a Class B drug, its use has reached unprecedented levels. Traditionally used as an anaesthetic in medical and veterinary settings, ketamine has gained popularity as a recreational substance. Users often crush it into powder for snorting, though it’s also taken orally or injected, producing a dreamy dissociative effect.
Often referred to as “ket” or “special K,” it’s easy to obtain and relatively affordable at around £30 per gram.
Between 2023 and 2024, ketamine surpassed cocaine as the drug most commonly reported by young people as problematic. In England and Wales, ketamine-related deaths rose from seven in 2015 to 53 in 2023.
At a residential detox facility called Birchwood on the Wirral, Nicole now resides. During the week leading up to our visit, 14 of the centre’s 25 beds were occupied by ketamine users.
As we moved through Birchwood’s corridors, the facility’s manager, Jo Moore, shared her concerns. After more than 20 years in healthcare, she said the ketamine epidemic has brought some of the most alarming and complex cases she’s ever seen.
“They all come in with urinary incontinence. Some can’t even walk. They’ve lost muscle tone. Some are in wheelchairs. And the pain they’re enduring is severe,” Moore said.
Beyond running Birchwood, Moore also hosts weekly support video calls for a growing number of parents with children addicted to ketamine. She regularly presents on the issue at healthcare conferences.
Another resident, Callum, described his descent into addiction. The 24-year-old from Cheshire had been his father’s carer before his dad died from alcoholism. At that point, recreational ketamine use turned into dependence.
“I was constantly out of it,” Callum admitted. “I don’t remember the last three years properly because I was using the whole time.”
Callum’s situation deteriorated rapidly. He suffered multiple organ complications and dropped to just six stone. His mother was urged to bring him to rehab by Moore, who knew the family.
As an anaesthetic, ketamine produces a cruel paradox. Users continue to take it in an attempt to relieve the very pain it is causing them. Callum reflected on this brutal cycle.
“It’s only once you stop that you feel the real pain and realise the damage,” he explained. “When you’re using, you know it hurts, but it doesn’t seem that bad.”
His liver damage—worse than what Moore has seen in 30- or 40-year alcoholics—was solely caused by ketamine.
Nicole, too, initially turned to ketamine as a coping mechanism. Her background included a difficult childhood, an abusive relationship, and long-standing mental health problems.
“I don’t regret taking it,” she said. “If I didn’t use ketamine during that period, I wouldn’t be here. It helped me cope—before it ruined my life.”
Over time, her organs began to fail. Nicole was hospitalised multiple times. Often, doctors unfamiliar with ketamine’s long-term effects misdiagnosed her. On one visit, she was sent home with medication for chlamydia. On another, she underwent a kidney procedure with no anaesthetic, as medics feared giving her pain relief due to her drug history.
“To be in that situation where you need help, you’re confused, and even the hospital doesn’t know what’s wrong—that’s a horrible isolation,” she said.
Now, Nicole begins each day in severe pain, which she expects will continue for life. Midway through our conversation, she paused to explain her bladder was spasming.
Despite their ordeals, both Nicole and Callum are determined to reclaim their lives. Callum successfully completed detox and rehab. He’s now employed full-time and trying to move forward.
Nicole’s situation remains fragile. She continues to battle complications and is still at Birchwood. Doctors are evaluating whether she will need her bladder removed.
Determined to raise awareness, Nicole shares her journey openly on TikTok, documenting medical visits and daily struggles. Her long-term goal is to speak publicly alongside Moore about the dangers of ketamine.
The fallout from ketamine abuse is not limited to rehab centres. It is stretching the NHS as well. At Pinderfields Hospital in West Yorkshire, consultant urologist Alison Downey says “ketamine bladder” has become alarmingly common.
“We’ve seen an explosion in cases in just the past few years,” Downey noted. “Where we used to see one or two a month, we’re now seeing eight or nine.”
Downey says that while urologists are still learning about the drug’s effects, its capacity for rapid, irreversible damage is unique.
“There’s no other drug that destroys the bladder and kidneys this quickly,” she said.
To demonstrate, Downey used balloons to illustrate how ketamine shrinks the bladder. A healthy adult bladder holds about 500ml—roughly the volume of five balloons. For chronic ketamine users, capacity can shrink to just 100ml.
“That’s why they need to urinate every 15 to 20 minutes—day and night,” she explained.
The medical concerns have prompted a broader discussion about reclassifying ketamine as a Class A drug, which would increase penalties for its production and sale.
Dr Caroline Copeland, a pharmacologist at King’s College London and director of the National Programme on Substance Use Mortality, cautioned against a purely punitive response.
“We need more than criminalisation,” she said. “We should invest in treatment and education to stop people from starting ketamine in the first place.”
Dr Copeland believes that a comprehensive reassessment of ketamine’s risks is overdue, especially given its increased recreational use among young people.
“Since it was reclassified from Class C to B, its usage patterns have changed,” she said. “We now need to thoroughly evaluate whether it should be moved to Class A.”
For those like Nicole and Callum, whose lives were upended in just months or years, such measures cannot come soon enough.
As Jo Moore walked me out of Birchwood after my first visit, her parting words resonated:
“We’re trying to fight this because we see the damage. I’ve worked with heroin users for 20 years. They don’t experience this level of harm—not like what we’re seeing with ketamine after just 10 months or two years.
“That’s why we’re shouting about it. As a nation, we’ve been far too slow to act.”
Need Support?
In the UK, call Samaritans at 116 123 or email jo@samaritans.org for emotional help. In the US, call 1-800-273-TALK or contact a local Samaritans branch.
