I was nineteen and my father had a long history of substance abuse on Xanax, but also of becoming incoherently violent when the police were called and he was in such a state.
So, he'd obviously had a few Xanax that day and his parents came by the house. When they noticed him all strung out, they pitched a fit and said just what they thought about it. He didn't hear anything, though. He was basically unconscious.
So when he woke up, I just had to vent. I was mad because I tended to butt heads with my grandparents over him. My Mom was a religious fanatic, so it was always easier to connect with Dad. Anyone talking shit was our enemy, and I told him just what they'd said, and how mad it made me at them.
Then, not thinking anything else, I basically went into my room and screwed around on an internet game. I heard him go to bed and say Good night/Love you, and I casually said the same.
Maybe thirty minutes later I went out to the den to smoke a cigarette, and noticed a couple pill bottles on top of a piece of paper. A bottle of Xanax XR and a bottle of Elavil, a tricyclic antidepressant he hadn't been on for long.
The note said the usual; can't live for whatever reason, sorry, bye.
I worried about him, but I also worried that he would fight the police/paramedics when they came. So I drove a block down the road and picked up a friend, and we tried to get him up and into the car to make the one mile drive to the hospital.
We weren't able to get him up & dressed, so we ended up calling 911, anyway. I just wasted precious time trying not to. They came, and got him to the ambulance without any trouble. A short ride to the hospital later, and I learned that he had 'expired' (doctor's words) while sitting in front of the house in the ambulance.
Apparently tricyclic antidepressants like Elavil are massively toxic to your heart at relatively low doses, and can also cause an increase in suicidal thoughts and tendencies. It had destroyed his heart before they even started the engine. He'd actually told his social worker that they were bothering him, and she was due to come by that day or the next to discuss getting him on a different antidepressant.
And unfortunately, having an indecisive son is even more toxic. Not sure calling 911 earlier would've saved him, but calling it later definitely killed him.