Citation: Pulsedemon. "Nearly Damn Killed Me: An Experience with Diphenhydramine (Benadryl) (ID 67507)". Erowid.org. Nov 1, 2009. erowid.org/exp/67507
The dose described in this report is very high, beyond Erowid's 'heavy' range, and could pose serious health risks or result in unwanted, extreme effects. Sometimes extremely high doses reported are errors rather than actual doses used.]
It was day 3 on a 3-day long binge, and I was doing 42 Benadryl for the second night in a row. Unlike others, I've been fond of the mellow delerious feeling and the ensuing hallucinations. In a safe, authority-free setting I find they can not only be pleasurable but also a learning experience. I've read the rants of the detractors and the warnings of danger but I never believed them 'cause they never rang true to me. Benadryl kicked my ass this time though and never again am I going to touch this chemical.
The experiment started around 11:30pm when my roommate left for work. I popped the pills and invited a friend over. We were talking and I felt the effects start to kick in and soon enough my short-term memory was shot and all I could do was babble nonsense. I informed that this was probably going to be uniform for the rest of the evening and that if he intended on any sort of a conversational hang-out, he may as well leave. He stayed, whether it was to be amused by my behaviour or to watch over me, I do not know as he was not even aware of the substance I had taken, I don't believe.
My memory from here on in is extremely spotty. I walked into my bedroom for some unknown purpose and upon walking back into the livingroom my legs were acting uncharacteristically shaky, even for a Benadryl trip. The next thing I knew, my muscles immediately threw my into my coffee table and when I tried to get up, I went into rapid convulsions; slamming into the ground over and over again. The next thing I remember is being surrounded by a medical team who I'm assuming my friend must have called after witnessing the siezure. I have a deep-seated fear of medical personnel after several suicide attempts in recent times and I was absolutely fearful that I would be sent into a psychiatric ward directly afterwards. They re-assured me that I would be simply treated and released so I reluctantly got into the ambulance.
The Benadryl was still running strong and either because of their ignorance of the substance I took or because they figured nothing would be gained from it, they didn't force me to drink the awful charcoal and thus my ambulance ride was more of a fun trip in a spaceship. My heart monitors were my controls and the medical personnel were my mission team. This illusion continued until I was in the nurse's office when I snapped out of it when the nurse asked me how much cocaine I had consumed that evening. I do not know how my state would be confused with that of a person under the influence of cocaine but I up-and-down refused that I had ingested that substance. When she asked me what I did take, the most concrete thing they could manage to get out of me was 'pills'. I'm guessing it was decided that I was a stimulant freak that had gone too far that night and so they gave me two Valium and I immediately passed out.
I awoke early the next morning, feeling more or less sober and infinitely terrified. I figured this was the part where my parents (who live in another province, which I was to move back to in two days) walk in with a look that could kill a man on their faces and my life is ruined for months afterward. However, a friendly nurse came into assure me that the doctor would be around shortly to give me the good-to-go. I hurredly asked if my parents were informed and she said, 'Not at all. We wouldn't even know your first name if it weren't for your friend that called you in. Stay away from the speed'. It is true that I did not have a health card, or a wallet with any sort of information of worth beyond a bank card so this worked to my advantage.
The doctor came in and said that my heart rate was steadily declining and that as long as I had the money for a cab ride, I was safe to get home. They gave me my street clothes and I walked out a very happy and lucky man. Two days later I moved back to my home province and all was well.
The moral of the story is that you may, indeed, get away with using this substance for years. But eventually you will have that one bad trip that fucks you up. I got a siezure, a sore head, and a night in the hospital out of it. I could have been dead, very easily, had my friend not been there to call the medical professionals. I'm not one to say no to drugs, but this is one that I'll definately be saying no to from now on.
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