The Night I Accidentally Almost Killed Myself (and Other Dumb Medication Tricks)

It’s funny, in a deeply unfunny way, that in interviews with folks who survive suicide attempts, many say they regretted it instantly. A great big “oops” in mid-air. I’m not among them—I wasn’t trying to leave this world early. But there was one night, not so long ago, when I realized I’d done something incredibly stupid and might not get a redo.

You don’t live with sarcoidosis zand heart failure without becoming slightly obsessed with how and when you take your meds. My day essentially runs on alarms and pill organizers. Ten different prescriptions, six specific times, half of them leaving me foggier than a London morning. There’s one—Coreg, now replaced by good ol’ metoprolol—that used to steamroll me by lunchtime. It came with a free nap whether I wanted it or not.

So, I spent years mastering this delicate pharmaceutical tango. Coreg at lunch, something that hates Coreg at dinner, the “do not take with food” pills flirting with the “take WITH food unless you want to puke” crowd. And every one of them essential to keeping my scarred, stubborn organs doing their job. My body, bless its dramatic heart, also once tried out pulmonary hypertension like it was a trend—luckily reversed itself—but I never forget that everything can shift on a dime.

Then my routine changed.

Work schedule shifting, needing to stay awake after lunch, trying to avoid napping mid-Zoom call like an elderly cat. So I reworked my pill times. Night one, I’m exhausted—stayed up too late, running on fumes, battling fatigue like it’s a competitive sport. Instead of following my well-established routine—last doses in a ramekin, tomorrow’s in the pill case—I mixed it all up. Fatigue doesn’t care about your systems.

So I showered, shuffled back, and instead of taking the night meds from the ramekin, I opened the morning compartment and swallowed the lot.

Cue instant dread.

As those pills rocketed down my throat, I had one of those “oh hell” moments. Did I just take double doses? Yep. Was one of those supposed to be 12 hours apart—at maximum strength? Also yep. Was it one that literally says “overdose can be fatal” if you’re dumb enough to do exactly what I just did? Oh, dear reader, it was.

I stuck a finger down my throat like a teenager at a bad buffet. Nothing. Grabbed my trusty Blackberry—yes, this was a while back—and started Googling “what happens if you double-dose heart meds.” Fun fact: those words bring up a lot of capital letters. “FATAL” is one of them.

I paced. I considered the ER but also wondered if I’d be laughed out of the building with a giant “ID10T” stamped on my forehead. I kept checking my pulse like a paranoid bunny and finally decided to lie down and monitor my own death—quietly, at home, like the DIY disaster I am.

Spoiler: I did not die. But I also did not sleep. Neither did my wife, making sure I didn’t go still and cold in the night like a bloated fish. It was a long, anxious night.

The next day, bleary-eyed and absolutely done with being a cautionary tale, I reorganized my pill box with the kind of precision NASA engineers would respect. You would too, if one wrong scoop of metoprolol nearly took you out.

That night taught me something important: mistakes aren’t just the big ones. Sometimes it’s the tiny, exhausted, thoughtless ones that sneak up on you. And when your life depends on tiny pills in tiny squares, the margin for error gets tiny, too.

So, sure, they put “do not operate heavy machinery” on some meds. But maybe they should slap on: “Use caution while using this medication if you’re a distracted, exhausted dumbass.” Not as scientific, but potentially life-saving.

So …

Have you ever had a medication mishap? Or a life-with-illness facepalm moment? I’d love to hear it. Drop a comment or subscribe—I promise to keep the near-death comedy coming.