The "God Help Those Who Must Visit With This Every Day!" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Parked the car on West King Street, plugged the meter, grabbed my camera and headed east, looking for a few architectural photographs for a story I am writing on architecture of the alphabet.  Walked two blocks east, taking photos of buildings on both sides of the street.  Finally reached the center of Lancaster, crossed the street and began my walk back towards my car.  The historic city of Lancaster, which is one of the oldest inland cities in the United States, is loaded with beautiful architecture from a variety of countries and time periods.  I had walked about half a block west when I came upon a scene I have read about many times in our local newspaper.  There in an side street known as Market Alley, which leads to Lancaster's historic Central Market, was a young girl laying on the cobblestones with a few of her friends surrounding her.  It was obvious that she was in distress with a blank look on her half-open eyes.  One of the young men with her looked at me and asked me what should they do.  "Did anyone dial 911?" I asked them.  Someone pulled out their phone and dialed.  One girl and one guy were knelling next to the girl, trying to place something under her head so it was off the hard stone surface.  Another was brushing the hair from her eyes.  By now her eyes were vacant with movement that showed the whites of her eyes.  

Photo I snapped as I headed away from the stressful scene.

I couldn't look anymore and walked away from them, hoping to hear sirens in the distance.  It seemed an eternity, but an ambulance came up King Street and one of the group waved it to the curb.  Out stepped the two paramedics who casually walked toward the young woman on the ground.  It was obvious by now that they had seen this same situation over and over again in the past.   One looked at her, without getting closer, walked back to the ambulance and grabbed something from his medic's kit.  It was at this point that I continued my trip back to my car, knowing I couldn't help,  not wanting to see the eyes of the young girl any longer.  The following morning I searched the newspaper for a story, police blurb or maybe even a small line telling about what had happened that beautiful day in one of the most beautiful cities in the United States.  My guess is that what had happened to this young girl has become so common-place all over the globe that it doesn't even make the daily newspaper anymore.  Many headlines tell the story of the drug Narcan which can be administered as a nasal spray when indicated for emergency treatment of a known or suspected opioid overdose.  And, even I, as old and inexperienced as I may be, knew as soon as I came upon the scene in the alleyway, exactly what had happened.  And, it will probably happen more than once again today as I write this story.  How many people will opioids kill in Lancaster today or this week.  How many have died this past year.  I constantly look at the ages of those who make the obituary page every day and wonder how many died of a drug overdose.  How sad.  And why does it have to happen?  I know I will never be able to wipe the look of that young girl from my memory, even though it was only a five-second glance that fateful day.  How can these paramedics do this day after day?  God bless all those who treat these people of all ages who succumb to the temptation of opioids for they must find it hard to close their eyes at night and not see that blank stare!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.