I actually wrote about the experience about 6 months after (attempted in Jan, wrote about it in June), here is a direct quote:
I remember making cuts and bleeding out and waiting. I listened to some music. And at some point, it all turned. It was hard to breathe, I couldn't breathe. I was breathing rapidly, shallowly. I couldn't get a breath. It felt like I had no air. And my body was wracked with pain. A pain I can't explain. Everything hurt all at once. I couldn't sit up, it hurt to sit up. I tried laying against the wall, against the toilet. Nothing was comfortable, it all hurt. An aching, indescribable pain. Just feeling so, so sick. And as I tried to breathe, tried to move into a tolerable position, I felt nauseous. My stomach flip flopped. I fought against vomiting all over myself, I was too weak to reach the toilet at this point.
I sank towards the floor, the sounds from my phone sounded more menacing than peaceful. A sense of doom and forboding rose within me. The music sounded almost demonic at this point. I couldn't breathe, I kept thinking. It hurts, it hurts, I can't breathe, can't breathe, it hurts.
[I describe my experience calling 911, then write more about the pain while I wait for the police]
I was consumed with pain.
I had no air, no oxygen.
Couldn't breathe, hurt too much, can I just die. I remember thinking frantically, pain interfering with my thoughts, if I could only die or if the cops could get the stupid door open and save me. Let me die or help me. Let me die or help. It hurt too much for anything else, and every agonizing breath wasn't worth it.