Panic Room

"911, What's your emergency?"

I struggled to get the words out as I ran down the worn steps of the apartment building.

It took five seconds for me to run and get my phone. The adrenaline making that one minute trip shrink as I rushed to get back to him.

My face burned from the cold February air as I moved my dark hair to the side.

"I need an ambulance."

My words echoed in the night's silence.

There was no one there. No one but me and the body of the man I loved. Lying on a cold concrete porch.

I tripped over the cracked step and quickly caught my balance. I had no time for any unwanted mistakes. One second could mean a different outcome right now.

"My … My boyfriend is unconscious."

"Do you know what happened?"

"I believe he overdosed."

"Do you know what he took?"

"I'm pretty sure it was heroin. I'm not 100 percent sure. I wasn't here but I know that's what he usually takes."

I wanted to cry. I didn't know why no tears had formed.

My mind went into survival mode. His … not mine.

I needed him to get through this. This wasn't the end.

It wasn't the beginning. It was somewhere in between and I knew that.

I fell to my knees beside his lifeless body.

His eyes were open. Staring up at the tattered wooden porch covering but seeing nothing. He wasn't here.

I could feel it.

"What's the address?"

Her voice came through swiftly.

"I … I'm sorry. I have no idea. He asked me to drive him to a friend's house. I don't know where we are. I see a number 28 on the door."

"It's okay. Someone is on the way."

"Thank you."

"Is he breathing at all?"

I leaned in closer. Hoping her words would have sparked a miracle of breath into him and once I leaned in I would hear just the faint sound of movement.

But there was none.

"No."

"Do you feel comfortable enough to perform CPR?"

"Yes, but I've never done it before."

"I'm going to walk you through it."

"Okay. I'm ready," I said with no hesitation. I could be walked through anything. And right now I would do anything necessary to get him back.

I placed one hand under his neck. The other over his nose. Holding his nostrils together I covered his entire mouth with mine and breathed three times. Her instructions guiding me along the way.

Nothing.

I did this one more time.

He released a gasp. A noise I had never heard come from a human before. Similar to that of a wounded animal. A wounded wolf howling in the wild.

"Was that him?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Do you think you can do chest compressions?"

"Yes," I replied again with no hesitation.

"Place your hands in the middle of his chest and press firmly 30 times."

I followed her instructions.

"Okay. I did."

"Now …" The line went silent.

"Hello … Hello."

My phone shut off. The battery wasn't charged and I had no other way of calling out.

I continued to perform chest compressions and CPR.

I rubbed his head and kissed it.

"You're going to be okay. I love you."

I kept going. Praying they would show up soon.

I saw the lights approaching and stood to wave them down.

They moved at the speed of light as I moved aside.

I answered what questions I could and watched as he was hooked to oxygen and given Narcan.

He didn't respond.

His blue eyes glossy and non-responsive.

We fought because I didn't want him going out.

"Drive me to a friend's house."

He went to the porch and I refused to get out of the car. I didn't like these new found "friends".

I didn't know them but no one he was around right now sat well with me.

I saw shadows on the porch from the car. He was standing.

Moments later he was still there.

I checked back and forth. Struggling to see and he was gone.

But where?

I got out of the car and whoever was there was nowhere to be found.

He lied motionless.

He was alone. He was cold. He was no longer breathing.

I shook him. I smacked him. I searched the porch for something … anything.

There was a cup of water. I threw it on his face.

The image of water pouring into his open eyes running through them and down the side of his face with no response is emblazoned in my mind.

His voice rang in my mind, "If you ever have to don't hesitate to call 911. Don't be scared to."

So I did.

And here we were.

They gave him Narcan … Three more times.

No response.

The EMT asked the policemen if they had extra Narcan on hand.

The younger policeman reluctantly agreed to get more for her. "I need it replaced," he said sharply.

His demeanor showing he had dealt with this way too many times and that he would rather be doing anything but.

The stigma that was placed upon addicts.

They didn't see the amazing father, the loving boyfriend or the corporate manager lying here.

They saw an addict. No more, no less.

He went to the car and gave her three more doses.

She administered two back to back.

The moment was solemn. All words stopped. I could tell hope was diminishing.

They had all checked him out at this point.

Not on my end.

I prayed in my mind.

I prayed for him to come back.

"One more time and we have to get him on the truck," the EMT said while moving the syringe to his nose.

She pumped one last dose into him and still no response.

They moved quickly. Two EMTs and two policemen lifted him and moved him up those same worn apartment steps.

I told them I would follow behind them to the hospital.

I watched as they pushed him towards the ambulance door. Still praying for a miracle.

I looked down at his face. Instantly his eyes opened and stared into mine.