I've OD'ed 5 times - twice on dilaudid, twice on heroin, and once on speedballs. The dlaudid and smack OD's were all pretty much the same - I vaguely remember getting ready to hit, had the shot all ready, remember the alcohol smell.... 3 of the 4 times, the next thing I knew was waking up. One of them, I woke up lying on my bed (where I shot up) with a half empty syringe and the needle bent all the way over at a 90-degree angle, which was disturbing because my first thought was that it had happened in my arm, but there was no wound on the arm, so somehow I must have passed out halfway through the shot, then the needle came out, and I rolled over it. Thank god I only got half of the shot in, or I'm sure I wouldn't have woken up.
Two of the times, I just woke up several hours afterward, and realized I'd overdone it. No big deal, just stiff an sore from lying in a weird position form several hours. I don't remember the shot or the passing out at all.
The fourth of those 4 times was a little different. I remember I had a gram of this killer Afghan junk, a solid light beige chunk with darker and lighter speckles. That shit just rocked. The second time i got off on that dope, I severely underestimated how powerful it was. My wife and I were watching a movie in the bedroom, and I said I needed a bathroom break. I remember really quickly mixing up a shot, and even remember tying off and looking for the best vein... and then a split second later I'm feeling like I'm kind of rolling back and forth a little, feeling cold, and for some reason I'm looking up at these 3 or 4 guys in dark blue sweaters or jackets all looking down at me, with a fluorescent light behind their heads.... I hear a big engine roaring, and I wonder what the fuck is going on, and I realized I'm in an ambulance. Turned out I'd taken too long in the bathroom, so my wife came looking for me, and she couldn't get the bathroom door open on account of I was busy lying all across the entire bathroom floor. That one was a pretty close call.
The time I OD'd on a speedball was different, because the cocaine kept me me from passing out completely. So I was aware that I was OD'ing, but I was too loaded on the heroin to really do anything about it. The living room and the kitchen of that house were one big open area, and my friends were all playing poker at the kitchen table while I was getting off on the sofa. I knew I needed help, but couldn't talk or call out, so i was lying on the floor between the coffee table and sofa, and reaching up with one hand and banging on the table. I don't know how long that went on, but eventually I just gave out and everything went black. I could feel it going, and tried to make sure i was lying on my side or stomach so if I threw up I maybe wouldn't drown.
A few hours later, when I woke up, I dragged what was left of myself out into the kitchen ten feet away and asked my friends why the fuck they didn't do anything when I was trying to get their help. They looked bewildered; had no idea what I was talking about. I said, "I was right over there; didn't you hear me banging on that damned table?" They looked at each other for a moment, and one of them said, "Aw, shit, man... we thought you were trying to let us know you were OK!"
So yeah, that was the only one of the five I remember. It was a pretty disturbing feeling, because i assumed i was going to die, and as high as I was, I wasn't high enough not to care about that. I felt helpless, and scared, and just really really fucking sad. It was like I could feel the life slowly just.... not really draining out of me, but more like just coming to a stop. Like every little part of my body and my consciousness was a little machine or clock of some sort, and every one of their batteries were all running down and going dead at the same moment. And it just really, really fucking sucked. I felt very, very lonely and sad.