We were driving home from my sister’s house the other night when I remembered I had left a bag by her front door. I asked Doug to turn the van around and as he did, a dark bent figure came into my sight: it was a man lying on his side on the sidewalk. His body lay dangerously close to the alley entrance, and he was not moving.
I got my phone out and dialed 911 and asked for someone to please come and check on this man. It is possible that he was sleeping, or perhaps passed out from drug or alcohol consumption. “Is he moving at all?” the paramedic asked me over the phone. “I saw his foot move a little, like a twitch.” “Is he breathing?” he asked next. “Well, I think so.” I replied. “Was he at all responsive?” “Well, I’m not really sure. I am in my car with my little kids and we…” “Oh, of course, I understand…we’re on our way. Thank you.”
I hung up and felt sick inside. I had not been able to answer that question. I should have been able to answer that question.