DOSE:

repeated

inhaled

Ether

(gas)

BODY WEIGHT:

185 lb

[Erowid Note: Our understanding of the literature is that there is no such thing as safe recreational use of volatile solvents, aerosols and other street inhalants : their psychoactive effects are inseparable from nerve and organ damage. We have chosen to include these reports to help document the real world use of inhalants, but their inclusion is not intended to imply that they are anything but dangerous.]
My Experiences with Inhalational Anesthetics as Psychedelic Drugs:

My father, now deceased, was an anesthesiologist. Growing up, I learned from him the science and history of anesthetics, including one of the curious mysteries of anesthesia which remains to this day: Nobody knows how inhalational anesthetics work. Their selection and use is purely empirical despite over a century of continuous investigation. Reading my dad’s library of anesthesia texts taught me about the early experiments with diethyl ether as a recreational and medicinal intoxicant, followed much later by development of formalized methods for using it as a surgical anesthetic. As an elementary school student, I had already learned with great interest about the replacement of flammable diethyl ether with halogenated molecules which pose less of a fire risk and are vastly more potent drugs. I listened as my father explained how sevoflurane and desflurane, the two most common modern fluorinated ethers used in anesthesia, are such powerful drugs that a single full breath of the vapor would be an overdose. These liquids seemed almost magical – modern chemical creations with near complete inertness, so volatile that they boil in your hand, profoundly altering consciousness with just a whiff.

My father was vehemently anti-drug, quite terrified of his own potential for addiction and deeply affected by the cases of drug abuse he saw as a physician. He also suffered from severe depression his entire life, which he did not treat. I inherited the depression, but not the anti-drug bent. From my slightly more distanced perspective, I saw that the drugs my father administered medically did not somehow become evil substances when removed from a medical context. I have been open to self-experimentation for its own sake; the early pioneers of anesthesia did so, and many of my father’s contemporaries quietly did this as well. Indeed, many anesthetics were discovered by self-experimentation. I found it odd that my father had not experienced and could not describe the psychoactive effects of the drugs he gave daily – he was focused on the objective clinical effects he observed when he administered the drug to a patient. The modern anesthesia community views the psychological effects of anesthetics as undesirable side-effects, which are suppressed by transitioning through the conscious intoxication phase quickly and using agents like benzodiazepines or propofol to induce amnesia. Like the early experimenters, my curiosity was broader than that.

In high school, my father once brought home a box of used ampoules of isoflurane, each containing a small amount of residual liquid. As a professor, he was using them to show medical students how the fluorinated ethers are packaged and used in anesthesia machines. He showed me as well, and after his seminar the box of ampoules went in the trash. My years of curiosity about the psychoactive effects of these fluids would not let me pass up this opportunity. Many reference materials described fluoroether intoxication as alcohol-like or used vague clinical terms like CNS depression to state the effects, but descriptive first-person accounts of these modern ethers were nonexistent. What did exist, however, were the floridly-written tales of diethyl ether experiences by the early pioneers of the field from over a century before – and they portrayed it as a profound mystical experience. My inherent demand for knowledge compelled me to discover it for myself.

I recovered the leftover isoflurane and consolidated it into one container. It totaled perhaps 10ml of liquid. A single breath from a piece of dampened cloth sent me into a different world, in a manner that this strait-laced high school kid was not prepared for. It was initially very pleasant, with visual auras and shimmering lights and ringing sounds which pulsated throughout myself and my surroundings. I was locked in place sitting on my bed, separated from my physical body while experiencing strong perceptions of internal connectedness with my surroundings. It was dissociative and hallucinogenic, I now understand in retrospect. The immediate intensity peaked in seconds and passed in minutes, but residual intoxication left me feeling unpleasantly impaired for the rest of the day. I did not repeat the experiment, and evaporated my remaining stash.

After my father’s death a few years ago, I found two full ampoules of sevoflurane in his possessions. I decided to try again. Importantly, sevoflurane is an incredibly potent anesthetic which cannot be inhaled freely in the manner of diethyl ether – one can inhale an overdose in just a breath or two, before its effects self-limit the exposure. The result is respiratory arrest due to deep anesthesia. Because of this risk, I decided in advance not to repeat this experience more than once and to limit the dose to far less than the concentration required to produce anesthesia (the “MAC”). After reviewing the literature to understand the dosage, risks, and expected duration of effects, I took a small whiff from a measured amount on a cloth while sitting outdoors. In seconds, the world pulsated and rang, shimmering and sparkling lightly. The breeze was tingly and I felt like I was part of the tree I sat beneath as the wind swayed my inner self along with the branches. It was quite something. Although an alcohol-like inebriation followed after these effects passed, the initial experience was not alcohol-like and actually felt more similar to MDMA and cannabis (the only other drugs I have experience with), but with strong visual and auditory components along with a distinctive change in self-perception and relation to my surroundings. I have now come to understand that this is fundamentally a psychedelic experience. The halogenated ethers are not just anesthetics as the medical literature documents; they are psychedelic drugs.

Two years later, I purchased a fluorinated industrial solvent called TMC-367 for a project I was working on. This is an unusual and expensive precision cleaning fluid which boils at 94 degrees Fahrenheit and is nearly chemically inert. As soon as I opened the glass carboy and a rush of pressurized vapor shot forth, I was transported back to those prior experiences with inhalational anesthetics. The sweet aroma was unmistakable as that of an anesthetic vapor – the distinctive ethereal scent of which may perhaps be directly linked to its biological activity. Immediately, I thought this stuff must contain a halocarbon with psychoactive properties. I hurriedly scanned through the MSDS sheet, Googling the three chemical constituents of TMC-367 to confirm my suspicions.

Indeed, my suspicions were confirmed. The primary component of TMC-367 is a biologically inactive fluorocarbon, 1,1,1,3,3-pentafluorobutane. It has minimal toxicity and is innocuous. The other two components are the interesting ones. 1,2 trans-dichloroethylene (dichloroethene by standard nomenclature) is known to be an inhalational anesthetic and has low toxicity. Although it has not been used in human anesthesia as far as I can tell, it has been studied in animals and is clearly psychoactive. The anesthetic potency of dichloroethene is not particularly high, more similar to diethyl ether than desflurane. The final component is 1,1,2,2-tetrafluoroethyl l-2,2,2-trifluoroethyl ether, which is an uncommon and poorly studied chemical but likely has some anesthetic properties based on its structure, and is not significantly toxic. Since this fluoroether comprises as little as 1% of the product and no more than 8%, I attribute the psychoactive effects of the mixture to the dichloroethene.

Having determined that it is not likely to be hepatotoxic or nephrotoxic or to pose an overdose risk, I gave it a try. Standing alone and sober in my lab one afternoon with all the lights on and no music playing, I dampened a paper towel and inhaled through it. The results were not what I expected. Just like my first experience with isoflurane decades before, I froze in place and dissociated. Unlike the isoflurane experience, this was not pleasant. A time-loop of auditory hallucination occurred, repeating a phrase over and over for eternity (the phrase seemed distinct at the time but did not, in retrospect, actually exist). I felt an overwhelming sense of dread and foreboding, and my vision was replaced by an endless multidimensional space of sparkling dots and nebulous forms, which I perceived as “the abyss” in the most abstract and non-literal sense possible. I had no connection to my physical self or surroundings, and existed only inside my own mind. It was a bad trip, and I did not even understand what a trip was at that time. In less than a minute, it was over and I was back standing in my lab exactly as I had been before. It was as if I had suddenly awakened there, on my feet in front of my lab bench holding an open glass beaker of liquid in my hand. The effects were completely gone in minutes, with no lingering intoxication.

My memory of the trip was strong, and the experience was so intense and unlike anything I had endured before that I felt a need to explore what had occurred. I tried it again, a few times over the next few weeks. I found that smaller doses caused auditory and visual effects without complete dissociation, but the feeling of foreboding and dread was powerful even at low doses. High doses (two consecutive breaths) were like a portal to a different universe. After one experience in which I found myself overwhelmed with existential fear while trapped in an eternal loop of all of humanity’s suffering, I swore off the stuff and vowed never to do it again.

But I did do it again. I inherited my father’s depression, and I had been suffering through a particularly bad episode – the worst in many years. Conventional antidepressants have not been highly effective for me, although staying on vilazodone is better than nothing. I had followed the newer ongoing research on ketamine and psilocybin as treatments for depression, and my psychiatrist mentioned the possibility of trying these methodologies since I seemed open to it and had not achieved successful remission with standard medications.

In reading about psilocybin and ketamine for depression, I encountered descriptions of dissociative psychedelic experiences which I immediately recognized as similar to what I had endured with the anesthetic ethers and TMC-367. As I learned about the ways in which people felt those experiences had helped them, I considered whether my bad trips might have been the result of “set and setting” issues more than an inherent characteristic of the drugs. Perhaps, I thought, my own psychology was responsible for the negativity of those experiences.

I vowed to try again, and to put real effort into the process this time. I would take it seriously, as an exploration of my consciousness in the manner of Aldous Huxley. The results were quite different when done in this way. I ultimately experienced a psychedelic awakening which fundamentally altered my psychology for the better, and I could not be more pleased with the outcome. I never expected such benefits could come from huffing an industrial degreaser – it sounds utterly implausible. Yet this is what occurred.

Late at night in my office, with dim lights and familiar music playing, I began by smoking strong cannabis until I reached a plateau. Then I started inhaling TMC-367 simply by applying drops to my shirt and breathing through the cloth. The cannabis was synergistic with the halocarbon in my estimation. I felt the familiar dread creep in as the time-loop of sounds washed over me and the physical world receded behind the non-real plane of dimensionless internal existence. But the music helped anchor me to time and place, allowing me to reassure myself that I still existed in a physical reality in addition to the psychological space I was navigating. I was able to maintain an understanding that this would pass, and that time was still moving forward. Indeed, it passed very quickly and I returned to my office chair as if abducted and dropped off by aliens. Unlike before, I felt safe and pleased by the experience – akin to a metaphysical roller-coaster ride instead of a plane crash. I repeated the experience several times that night, spending a total of a few hours traversing back and forth across the boundary between the external world and my internal hyperspace.
All the next day, I pondered the experiences of the prior night. Hours had passed in what seemed like minutes, while also taking an eternity. I reflected that I had certainly experienced some of the indescribable internal cognitive complexities that people attempt to explain after profound psychedelic experiences. I felt like I had conquered a part of myself by controlling the experience to overcome the horrible dread which had besieged me before, a phenomenon which I forced myself to recognize had come only from inside my own head. Indeed, the understanding that everything I experienced was produced inside my mind was essential to this whole process and the beneficial result I eventually obtained.

That beneficial result came the next night. It was both a transcendental life-improving experience and also an ugly depraved ether binge straight out of Fear and Loathing. I had intended to repeat the prior night’s experiment with stronger doses. But I began the night’s festivities in the lab, intending to try just one dose there before retiring to my office for a more structured experience. Instead, that was the start of a set of deep trips which lasted until dawn. I found myself re-dosing repeatedly as soon as the dissociation faded enough to allow it.

I intentionally traversed the boundary between our shared world and the internal spaces of my mind, dozens of times that night. I felt a sense of complete connection to everything, including very specific feelings of interaction with people elsewhere I have never met. The auditory hallucinations were intense and impossible to distinguish from real sirens or alarms, and the visual effects were beyond description and at times overwhelming. The dissociation and internal journey, however, were more intense and complicated than any of the visual or auditory aspects. I found that I could ground myself in reality by observing my cat who had wandered into the lab. He was of course unperturbed by the happenings inside my psyche, and interacted with me normally. I knew that no cat would ignore the sirens if they were real, nor would he remain so calm if I had in fact suddenly reappeared in front of him out of thin air as I felt I did, nor could he respond to me if I were incorporeal. I used this objective reality to maintain perspective.

With my cat as a “totem” and using the sensation of gravity on my body and touching textured objects to remain oriented to physicality, I deepened my trips by inhaling as much of the vapor as I could while remaining able to do so. In a series of three or four such consecutive trips, each lasting a few minutes, I experienced indescribable emotional journeys within myself. I felt a recursive, repeated awakening which tore me out of my dissociated state and threw me back into this world over and over again. I spun down like a vortex into an infinitely small pinhole, and came out the other side inside out. I felt like I had become the complex conjugate of myself, inverted in a sense that cannot be described in our four-dimensional reality.

The sun began to rise, and I realized that several hundred milliliters of TMC-367 were gone. I stopped. A few minutes later, I was standing in my lobby feeling intensely sober and fully aware. I went to bed and slept for a few hours before beginning my day. I noticed that I felt very different than I had ever felt before. I was able to converse freely and intelligently, but felt like I was aphasic. I perceived that I did not know what words to say or how, but yet speech flowed out of me normally – or even more fluently than usual. This perception faded over the course of the day and was replaced by a confidence in my expression which I did not realize I had previously lacked. More notably, however, I felt a sense of deep comfort and connection to myself and my surroundings. My anxiety and inner turmoil were replaced with a positive perception of connection with myself and everyone around me. I felt like I knew myself better. I felt like I was in control of myself and my emotions in a way I have never experienced before.
And I still feel that way. It stuck.

Exp Year: 2022	ExpID: 116452
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 40
Published: Nov 25, 2024	Views: Not Supported
[ View PDF (to print) ] [ View LaTeX (for geeks) ] [ Swap Dark/Light ]
Inhalants (29), Ether (131) : Combinations (3), Retrospective / Summary (11), Mystical Experiences (9), Families (41), Depression (15), Personal Preparation (45), Therapeutic Intent or Outcome (49), Alone (16)