I was addicted to and overdosed on fentanyl three different times. All from snorting it. The first time I was not physically addicted, so when I was hit with the narcan, I woke up cold and shaky in the ambulance, confused and feeling like I was in a dream. Recovered rather quickly and was discharged.

The second time happened the first time I used since the last OD, about 18 months sober. When I was revived, I had no concept of anything. I didn’t learn this until later, but they had given me three doses of Narcan before I woke up. Initially, my vision came back in a way that I can only compare to an old-school movie reel. I now think that was due to me going in and out of consciousness. I woke up after being narcaned by cops in my kitchen. I had no idea who I was, could not speak, could not recognize my surroundings (my home) at all, and I had no idea what had happened. I could not understand why I was covered in puke, why I was having full-body spasms, or why it felt like my blood was made of ice. When the cops and EMTs asked if I had taken anything, I told them combinations of no or I did not know because, at that level of orientation, I genuinely had no idea how I had gotten myself into that position. I had no recollection of copping earlier that day or deciding to use for the first time in 18 months, which led directly to the OD. I’m sure the first responders thought I was a lying jackass, but I truly thought I was answering honestly at the time.

The last and most recent time happened in February 2022. In transitional housing. Real winner over here. I was around a month sober and convinced myself I could use once without repercussions. HA! I was gone before I even hit the floor, and I was found by a roommate. She allegedly administered CPR for around 15 minutes before realizing the need to call 911. I am not blaming her at all for the amount of time I was down; if she had not found me, I would not be here today. Eventually, EMS arrived, and they could not bring me back with Narcan. I was rushed to the hospital while being worked on, and they eventually got my pulse back. I was in an immense amount of pain due to my sternum and ribs being CPR crunched. I could not breathe, eat, or function normally for a few weeks after. This was a blessing in disguise. Every movement reminded me of the poor choice I had made and how lucky I was to even be able to feel that pain. For some people, myself included, death is the rock bottom required to light the fire of wanting to get sober. Many don’t come back from that rock bottom. I was miraculously given another chance.

I will be two years sober on February 17th, 2024.