My roommate/lover in a halfway house in Florida pulled this one on me in 2010. I knew he had drunk a bottle of Robitussin, and I saw the humongous stack of Seroquel laid out on his bed that his parents had given him to take with him home from his recent visit to see them in Virginia, but I didn't put 2 and 2 together until he was damn near about to aspirate on his own throw up the next morning, and was breathing but unresponsive. I immediately called 911, they hauled his sorry (or well just pathetic anyway) ass out the apartment on a stretcher and took him to the nearest hospital, which was close. While there, he started to turn green, and they put him on a ventilator for a day or two. If I hadn't have called 911 when I did, his lifeless body would have likely long since been pushing up daisies by now, and I very well would have been in for a big guilt trip for telling him what brand of Robitussin cough syrup to buy, not calling earlier, etc. Of course, he got kicked out for the Robitussin (apparently it's not ok to trip on Robitussin in this halfway house, but attempting suicide with massive amounts of Seroquel is not an actionable offense, lol).
In my state of desolation, and with the mailman unexpectedly and serendipitously delivering me 500mg of MDPV the next day, I too overdosed (on the MDPV) and got sent to the hospital and kicked out on the streets as well. I fell and hurt my foot whilst on the peevee, but did manage to limp over to the Salvation Army, whose uppity bitch cunt female boss immediately informed me "point blank" (her word choice--what is the fucking bitch about to blow my brains out now, too? wtf) that I would not be attending her inpatient drug rehabilitation program for indigent men because I was carrying around a bag of Zyprexa and clonidine fresh outta the hospital. Wouldn't you know it, my dad had been as it turns out a fairly big money supporter of the Salvation Army, and they treat mentally ill homeless drug addicts like this?!!
I later learned (or maybe I already knew), that the Salvation Army was founded by the Rothschilds in the 19th century sometime to launder their Sino-China Opium Drug War profits, and that the red shield was derived from the Rothschild family's coat of arms, so they have always obviously been a bunch of greedy, fraudulent scumbags, but hey, Fuck that bitch!!! I had to spend my only night homeless in Fort Lauderdale on the streets where I was robbed at gunpoint when I could have just taken the bus to the beach and slept there under the stars and in a much, much better neighborhood, but no I spent it next to the goddamn Salvation Army where a crackhead whom I had befriended earlier came back to where I was sleeping in the middle of the night (he's the one who showed me the best spot to go and sleep) with a revolver to my head demanding all the money I had, which was $12. I relented, and luckily, lived to tell about it.
Anyway, I was too good for their program anyway, got through to my mother by phone finally the next day, and enrolled in another, much smaller rehab the next afternoon (where I initially had a hard time fitting in at all), but the whole ordeal scared the shit out of me nevertheless! All because that little ingrate decided it would be fun to try to OD on Seroquel behind my back of all fucking things. At least I got high (like really, really high) off my MDPV OD the next day, as opposed to Chris who just got muscle movement torture all night and almost died from his Seroquel OD! They found me roaming around the halfway house apartment, naked, and with milk which they thought was piss spilled all over the floors and babbling incoherently, with the big screen tv on the floor (I hate tv's). Also, my grandmother died that weekend, but I was in the hospital for the funeral. Yes, I am/was a fuckup! (But I am a fairly excellent writer, with many good stories, and excellent vocabulary, grammar, punctuation, and word choice [diction], I will say for myself.)
okay, one day in ER can easily come to $1,000 too...
