A Resident’s Day in the Neighborhood
I grab my hat, keys, phone, and walk out the door. I must walk, ride the train, walk again to West LA. I am a volunteer transporter for Wags and Walks Dog Rescue. There are dogs waiting at the vet for me to pick up and return to the shelter before 3:00. I walk through the crazy streets toward the Pico Metro Station enjoying the fabulous LA weather and the sight and sounds of the city. I walk around the corner by the CVS, just steps away from the Pico Metro platform. The Santa Monica bound train slides out of the station. I’ve missed it.
But something is not right. A rather confused young man holding his cell phone is looking at me and shrugging his shoulders. At his feet lies a crumpled body laying on his back, one foot tucked carelessly under an out-stretched leg. The body seems not to be breathing but there is good color in his face. He is clean and well groomed. No convulsions. No bleeding. He seems to be – just sleeping. “My cell phone battery is dead” the Good Samaritan pleads. What do we do here?” I pull my cell phone and hit the speed dial for the SPBID emergency line. After a long set of rings, I get a voice on the other end of the line. The voice doesn’t want to be there. “What do you need” the voice says. I explain that I am in front of the CVS just ½ block from the BID and I have a man passed out on the sidewalk. Probably an overdose, totally unresponsive and needing help. Please send one of your Safe Team over with some Narcan. I’m not certain he is even alive. Hurry!” I hear a yawn on the other end of the line. “Where are you….?” “½ block from you at the CVS. Send someone please.” ……… “OK we’ll be there”.
A small, (very small) crowd is forming around us. Some big guy who is obviously a Leader steps up and has the problem in hand. He reaches down and slaps the guy on the ground hard across the face and yells “wake up!” He does it again. Nothing. The Leader grunts an “oh shit” and walks away. The small crowd around us immediately disburses. The guy that begged me to help also disappears. I notice some movement in one of the dead guy’s hands. This is ridiculous – no one cares? I trot over to the CVS and run in the door. “Do you have any Narcan? Someone has overdosed out on the street and needs help”. I get nothing but stares. Someone motions for me to go to the Pharmacy. The young woman at the Pharmacy window glares at me for interrupting her attention to her cell phone. “There’s a man passed out on the street. Needs Narcon. Where can I find some?” She shrugs and goes back to her cell phone. Blank stares look at me like I’m crazy. What?
Obviously getting nowhere I trot back out to the street to see if the BID has shown up. Nothing. The body has shown some signs of life and has picked itself off the sidewalk and become a pile of skin and bones – breathing but otherwise unresponsive. He crumples back to the sidewalk and assumes his previous position - continuing to lay on the sidewalk only ½ breathing. People continue to walk by showing little interest except one man who explains to me he is on the phone to the BID. I explain that I’ve already called them 5 minutes ago and no one has shown up. He explains “Sometimes they react better when a shop owner calls them rather than just anyone on the street. They say they are coming”. I get the feeling that he has seen bodies on the sidewalk outside of his business before.
My train rolls into Pico Station. I am now going to be late for my pickup. I reason this problem is handled and run for the platform to catch the train before it leaves the station. I stop just before I hit the door and look back. Wait a minute. The man is still laying on his back on the sidewalk – totally alone. He looks like an island in the middle of a vast, empty sea of concrete. Everyone has abandoned him and left him in the street. To die?
The train door closes with a bang without me. I am mad at myself for abandoning this poor guy. I rush back out the platform gate and call 911. (Why had I not done this earlier?) Perhaps because finding a guy passed out on the street is a normal occurrence in my neighborhood. Such events are common-place – not requiring a 911 action? (Oh hell, they probably won’t come for at least a half an hour anyway). A person is laying on the street in obvious distress and no one cares? We have become a callous society.
I stay on the line with the 911 operator. In a few minutes I hear an emergency siren. The 911 operator tells me the paramedics are looking for us but can’t find us. I wave my hat at the emergency vehicle, and they spot me. The paramedic arrives with his toolbox. He shakes the body and there is movement. The dead man sits up and acknowledges the paramedic sleepily. Treatment ensues.
My train to Santa Monica pulls up to the platform and I jump onboard. As the train pulls out of the station, I look over my shoulder and see that the paramedics now have the man on his feet – nodding groggily. All is well.
“What the hell just happened here?” I ask myself. The concerned shop owner and I were the only ones who gave a damn. I am not too happy with my performance either. I should have immediately called 911 and told someone to find a defibrilator, considered CPR. I took training for this. My indecision as to what to do and lack of positive action wasted precious time that could have led to a totally different result.
On reflection I realize now that my lack of urgency was a result of everyone else’s total lack of urgency. Obviously just an addict. (But he didn’t look like an addict). Who cares. We are indeed a callous society.
By: John Nilsson, Resident of Ten50
Note: This is a new section of the SPNA Scene newsletter for residents’ personal experiences and stories. Let us know if you would like to write a piece for a future Scene newsletter – spnadtla@gmail.com.