First time at the emergency room
The heightened beating speed of my heart, noticeable increase in paranoia , and anxiety of death began around 7:30 pm, August 30th, when I invited my coworker over and my best friend into my room to smoke me out. They brought a dab rig in and some white-yellow crystalline dabs. I have ingested a ton of marijuana during my life, including dabs, but I hadn’t taken a dab for at least a week or two, so my tolerance to the chemical was very low. (I’d like to mention here, for context that earlier in the day, I meditated while using a tDCS device to test it as a method of coping with ADHD). I heated the dab nail and set my timer, preparing to take the hit. As I commenced, I noticed a seeming roughness that I didn’t expect but it went normally and I coughed a bit afterwards. It was only 5m later when I realized that there was no liquid in the rig, so my hit was dry and unfiltered. I thought that was fine and I just kept drinking water.
Shortly after the dab, I noticed a sharp emotional sensitivity and an acute rise in stress, so I took a cold shower and incorporated my daily breathing method in the shower. When I take cold showers I have a specific thought process that I use at the peak of the breathing method, first breath (ever) in, and last breath (ever) out, imagining being reborn and then imagining the moment of my death, to cope with the inevitability of it, Momento Mori. I felt slightly relieved after the shower but I still had an overwhelming amount of emotional energy and stress in general. I tried turning the lights off, drinking some water, taking some melatonin, and trying to sleep it off. I couldn’t sleep because I had about a cup of caffeine just an hour or two previously.
While laying there, in bed, I started having intrusive thoughts pertaining the shortness of life and how long it will realistically be until I die, and I felt waves of panic come over me as my heart rate increased dramatically. I knew it was fast, and I knew that over 110 resting heart rate is dangerous, so I decided to measure it. When I took the measurement by holding my finger over my carotid artery and counting the pulses with my phone measuring 15s and multiplying the number of pulses by 4 to get my beats per minute, I found that my heart was beating at ~150 bpm. I proceeded to practice a breathing technique called the “ Wim Hof method” to ease my heart rate and ground myself into reality. It didn’t work, I couldn’t stay focused on the exercise for more than 30 seconds, and I couldn’t find any sort of focus whatsoever, which was concerning. I tried to just normally meditate, but my heart rate felt like it was increasing by the second and my brain felt pressurized, like it was about to blow, so I decided to call 911 to see if I could get a sedative or just dilute the drugs I’d put into my system. I frantically gave them my information and continued to panic, I told my roommates what was going on and they all seemed like they could help me through it or I was just overreacting, but I genuinely thought this may be the last few moments of my life.
When the EMT’s arrived, four men came in, I showed them the neuro-stimulation device I had used, all of the vitamins and supplements I had been taking, and informed them that I’d consumed a large dose of marijuana concentrate via inhalation. They measured my heart rate and asked about symptoms to assess the situation and they let two people go on and the other two stayed. As my condition worsened and my body began to feel numb, I hugged my brother and told him that I loved him and got into the ambulance. The main EMT poked me with a needle and introduced saline solution to dilute the chemicals in my blood, I became calm on the outside and ultimately confused on the inside. I started asking questions about my condition: “Will I die?” to which they both answered “No” in a demeaning tone. Then I asked if I was having an aneurysm or heart failure, to which he replied, “No, I’ve seen someone with both of those and you don’t look like you are going through that.”. I asked him “Okay, what’s worst case scenario?”, and he replied “Heart Failure, but that’s not happening.”
I found a solid amount of comfort from the fact that they were sure I wasn’t going to die, however, my heart was beating the fastest I’ve ever witnessed, my whole body went through bouts of trembling, my limbs and torso felt almost completely numb, and my hands started to become discolored. My consciousness felt extremely weak and faded and I let my body sink into the gurney as the ambulance went over some bumps and I lost connection with my body a few times, seemingly floating away but still consciously wondering “What happens now?” I did not know if I was going to die but I actually released my fear of it, and waited for it peacefully. I watched as some visualizations of the faces of my friends and family appeared, breaking the darkness, and I took a moment to sink into the feeling of metta: compassionate loving kindness.
Every once in a while, I would return to normality and look down at my hands and wiggle my toes a little bit, realizing that I wasn’t dead, but my condition wasn’t worsening and it wasn’t getting better, my resting heart rate was ~170 when we got to the hospital, I don’t remember getting wheeled in, but I do remember them asking me to take a few steps to the hospital bed, which I was able to do. They initially asked me some questions to which my foggy self answered the best I could and I continued to look at my heart rate monitor, wondering if I would ever come down. I was assessed and they told me I just had a severe panic attack that lead to Tachycardia, which is just a medical term for a dangerously fast resting heart rate. They had me walk to the bathroom to acquire a urine sample for a drug test to tell if the marijuana I had was laced with anything, or if I had lied to them. After that, the nurse injected a drug he claimed would “Calm my body down and lower my heart rate”, which I allowed. I called my dad, and told him about the whole situation to which he enlightened me that he had gone through very similar circumstances with alcohol withdrawals, and his resting heart rate got to 220 before he was able to come down from that. He intellectualized my fear of death for me and I was able to follow along and achieve a sense of relief and stillness. After that phone call my heart rate lowered to about 145 and I was able to think slightly more clearly about where I was, what was happening, and why it was happening. I proceeded to actually finish the Wim Hof method and that plus the sedative had lowered my heart rate down to ~120. I continued to breath slowly and rationally and I called my roommates to come pick me up.
I survived!
