skeletontea
04-14-2006, 02:28 PM
According to a friend, I nearly died last week. I always say that I won't mix benzos with other drugs (including alcohol), but alcohol has a funny way of lowering one's inhibitions.
A friend and I started the evening off by taking 30 mg of zolpidem each, while listening to a marathon of every Skinny Puppy album. Though my friend felt quite intoxicated, an hour and a half later I still felt nothing (I've just been taking ambien too frequently as of late, I do have genuinely bad insomnia.) We then decided to have a few drinks with the neighbor (a poor decision). We may have also smoked pot that night, none of us remember.
The neighbor then offered us some xanax (which none of us would have mixed with the other CNS depressants were we sober, but we were obviously not thinking clearly by now). At one point I seemed to drift off. My friends tried to rouse me, but were unsuccessful. Panicking, one person slowly put a cigarette out on my wrist to try and shock me into consciousness, but I gave no indication of having even felt the burn. A prior unsuccessful attempt to resuscitate me involved writing "penis" on my forehead and left arm. (Okay, actually my "friend" wrote on me before he'd realized I'd o.d.'d.) After drawing half a mustache on my upper lip is when he realized I didn't appear to be breathing. He put his head to my chest and heard no heart beat (I'm sure it was present, just faint) which is when they panicked (screaming) and put the cigarette out on my arm.
Even after the cigarette was extinguished I gave no sign of life. The friends then carried me around the perimeter of their apartment building, and at one point I just began walking with them. Once he was sure that I was okay, my friend tried to say he was going to cuddle with the neighbor girl in her apartment, but the words that actually came out of his mouth were "I'm gonna' have sex with ***** in my apartment." I decided to give them privacy and walked the mile and a half home.
The next day my friend called my cell phone, panicking that I was gone when he'd awoken. I told him what he'd said about needing privacy, and he apologized and said there was a misinterpretation, they went back to the neighbor's apartment. I told him about his illustrative talents, after which he once again apologized, as he barely remembered writing on me. I asked him if he knew why there was a substantial burn on my wrist, and that's when he told me the story of what had happened. Part of me thinks it would have been funny if I had died, and my friend had to explain to the police why he'd written "penis" on a corpse.
The really interesting part is that typically when I awaken from sleep, I can tell that a good deal of time has passed. When I o.d.'d, there was nothingness. It was as if my internal clock had been shut off.
A friend and I started the evening off by taking 30 mg of zolpidem each, while listening to a marathon of every Skinny Puppy album. Though my friend felt quite intoxicated, an hour and a half later I still felt nothing (I've just been taking ambien too frequently as of late, I do have genuinely bad insomnia.) We then decided to have a few drinks with the neighbor (a poor decision). We may have also smoked pot that night, none of us remember.
The neighbor then offered us some xanax (which none of us would have mixed with the other CNS depressants were we sober, but we were obviously not thinking clearly by now). At one point I seemed to drift off. My friends tried to rouse me, but were unsuccessful. Panicking, one person slowly put a cigarette out on my wrist to try and shock me into consciousness, but I gave no indication of having even felt the burn. A prior unsuccessful attempt to resuscitate me involved writing "penis" on my forehead and left arm. (Okay, actually my "friend" wrote on me before he'd realized I'd o.d.'d.) After drawing half a mustache on my upper lip is when he realized I didn't appear to be breathing. He put his head to my chest and heard no heart beat (I'm sure it was present, just faint) which is when they panicked (screaming) and put the cigarette out on my arm.
Even after the cigarette was extinguished I gave no sign of life. The friends then carried me around the perimeter of their apartment building, and at one point I just began walking with them. Once he was sure that I was okay, my friend tried to say he was going to cuddle with the neighbor girl in her apartment, but the words that actually came out of his mouth were "I'm gonna' have sex with ***** in my apartment." I decided to give them privacy and walked the mile and a half home.
The next day my friend called my cell phone, panicking that I was gone when he'd awoken. I told him what he'd said about needing privacy, and he apologized and said there was a misinterpretation, they went back to the neighbor's apartment. I told him about his illustrative talents, after which he once again apologized, as he barely remembered writing on me. I asked him if he knew why there was a substantial burn on my wrist, and that's when he told me the story of what had happened. Part of me thinks it would have been funny if I had died, and my friend had to explain to the police why he'd written "penis" on a corpse.
The really interesting part is that typically when I awaken from sleep, I can tell that a good deal of time has passed. When I o.d.'d, there was nothingness. It was as if my internal clock had been shut off.