What It’s Like to Be Revived from an Opioid Overdose

Naloxone, the life-saving antidote for opiate overdose, has become a necessary tool in fighting Canada's opioid crisis at the healthcare level. However, restrictions on access to it vary from province to province. Most recently, Ontario became only the third Canadian province—behind Alberta and BC—to offer the medicine over the counter. Though this is a step in the right direction for Ontario, we don't know just how bad the opioid crisis is in the province due to the lack of data on overdoses and deaths being released in recent years.

However, the potent synthetic opioid fentanyl, which is many times stronger than both heroin and morphine, has been found in many other recreational drugs, and not just in Ontario, but in the provinces in the west that have become the epicentre for Canada's opioid crisis. In Ontario, though, while naloxone is now being offered as of June over the counter for free, it is still restricted to only those who have used or are using opiates, or who are at risk of witnessing an opioid overdose.

To understand more about the role naloxone plays in aiding the opioid crisis, VICE spoke to a woman in her mid-20s who, less than a year ago, had to be revived by a naloxone injection given by a friend. She has since gotten clean by way of suboxone and has been off of heroin for four months:

I used heroin on and off since 2012. It got really bad in the last year. At times before, I had been on and off and could kind of manage it, but in the past year leading up to the winter when I got clean is when it got worse and annoying to deal with.

I didn't really fit the cliché of a drug user: I didn't have a bad upbringing, I never got into really bad things, I never had to go to really serious extremes to get my fix. I was working on a serious university degree while I had a heroin addiction. I always had office jobs, which were always at least above minimum wage. I'm girly; I never looked like a sketchbag. But that's just appearance—I was normal only on the surface I guess.

When I overdosed, that was the only time I can remember ever having one. In general, I would always do a small amount to start out, and once I felt that it was fine, I would do a second shot [of heroin] if I needed more. I would never do the whole thing at once; I would always do a portion of it to test it out and make sure it was ok. Not all my friends did that. It was all for safety—it might not have been the way to get the best high, but it was still good for me.

I was having some drinks at a friend's place, just some beer and wine, but I certainly wasn't wasted or anything. Eventually, it was nearing the end of the night, and I wanted to do a little more [heroin] before I left to go home. I was in the bathroom, and I did some, and like usual, I wasn't trying to overdo it. I didn't think I was overdoing it. I just did what I thought was a good amount for me to get a little high for the ride home. The door was closed obviously and locked, and nobody noticed. It was just two friends of mine who were at the house, and I didn't tell them I was going to do it. That's it.

All I remember is waking up. As soon as I woke up, I knew what had happened, but I didn't know how long I had been out for. Clearly I was out long enough for them to be like, "What the hell?" Apparently one of my friends had to pee, and they thought I was taking a long time in the bathroom. They somehow broke down the door and found me passed out on the floor. My friend who had a kit because she was already in a methadone program administered naloxone to me, and I think she gave me two shots.

My dealer always had the kits on him, but I never had one. If I was alone, like I often was when I was using, there would have been no way I could have helped myself. There was no moment in-between the passing out and the shot [of heroin]. For all I know, the needle could have still been in my arm.

Maybe I could have woken up from the overdose—there are instances where you nod out, and it's kind of like you nap. Sometimes you don't know if it's an OD or a nap, nodding out to the point of unconsciousness. There was never a point in nodding out where I consciously could think, Oh shit, I'm nodding out hard because nodding out is part of the high. There's been plenty of times I've nodded out for ten minutes and was unconscious, then I opened my eyes and was still sitting in the same position. So it's very difficult to tell what's an OD that requires naloxone.

It was such a panicked moment for me. I couldn't believe I put my friends in this situation where they had to do that in their house—not even a public place where they could possibly leave me, it was in their house. There's a lot of liability there for them if something were to happen. My friend who revived me seemed really scared.

Though this situation happened in the company of friends, I would almost always use by myself. When I grabbed from the dealer, I'd go to a bathroom and do it by myself. Most of the time I was doing it alone. I'd do it alone before going to a social gathering. It's not like a stimulant where you need conversation; it is a very solitary drug. It's something you want to do by yourself, and you have no problem doing by yourself. It's not boring to do it by yourself by any means. It's very enjoyable to do it like that; I certainly wouldn't hesitate to do it on my own.

When you're at that point where your nod is that heavy, it would never cross your brain to think, Hey, maybe I need naloxone. You physically wouldn't be able to give it to yourself—there is no moment in-between. Someone else has to be there who knows about naloxone and has it, but when you're a solitary drug user, who is going to be there? It's just you.

For information on how to access drug addiction treatment programs in Canada, contact the provincial hotline numbers listed here.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Follow Allison Tierney on Twitter.