60. The bell tolls

The next day I was eating lunch at a restaurant.  The group behind me was discussing the rash of overdose deaths, and a newspaper article about Narcan. One woman felt sad for three people who had died the day before.  Her companion said, “Three less junkies to rob you.”  His friend argued Narcan cost taxpayers money by keeping people alive who would likely need government services.  Their conversation turned to a tailgate party they planned to attend that weekend.

I wondered how they’d react if one of them died driving drunk on his way home from the tailgate.  They’d probably talk about what a great guy he was, and how much life he had left to live, pondering the things he might have done. Nobody would say ‘that’s one less drunk on the road.’ There would be a lawsuit if the EMTs or the ER doc hadn’t used every means possible to save their friend.

I couldn’t blame them.  Most likely they wouldn’t know they had known someone hooked on oxycodone until she died.   Would they say she was a nice person, with much to live for, who might have done great things had she not died tragically?  Or would they say ‘one less junkie?’

Today I will mourn the loss of anyone to addiction, regardless of their drug of choice.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)