The Fragility of Humanity

Something happened recently that made me take a real, unadulterated, and legitimate check on my life. To reduce the expository verbiage associated with this story, (see what I did there?) some details will be redacted/changed.

Setting: The Commuter Line; on a Sunday; a beautiful sunny summer morning.

While quietly chugging along to Boston for what was supposed to be an uneventful, fun day to explore with a new friend of mine, something extra peculiar happened. A man comes bursting through the car yelling: “My friend’s overdosed! She’s collapsed! Is there a doctor? Nurse? Anyone!?” Doing what most may do in this situation, I crane my neck around and look to see if anyone is rushing to the task. Not a soul stirred; not even a quiver to rise up. The people of this train had devolved into a sheepish hunch. Knowing basic life-saving techniques, I became part of a literal “do-or-die” moment. A switch flipped in my brain and I felt sparked to get up; I could feel adrenaline coursing through my body as I approached closer and closer to the car. And then, there she was: a woman lay silent, cyanotic, and devoid of life. I take the necessary steps to assure that she is really unconscious and not breathing (e.g. tapping the shoulder and yelling: “Ma’am, are you okay?”) The rest became mechanical. I cleared her chest of any inhibiting clothing and started compressions. The first was tough; the second was gnarly. The cracking of the sternum affected me for a second or two, but then I just kept going. After other bystanders and train employees showed up, we got a pulse. We even got a gasp. My brain was next to exploding with joy that she had showed some signs of life. Fast forward and the Fire EMTs and paramedics were there to meet us at the station. The carotid pulse was weak, but it was there. After that, she was out of our hands.

The apparent cause of the collapse was pinned down to a heroin/drug overdose.

I left the situation feeling strangely empty. I don’t know...