As I pry open the eyes of a limp woman, one gloved hand on her face, the other reaching around for my stethoscope, flashlight gripped between my teeth, I notice her pinpoint pupils.
Her fingers are blue, her breaths shallow at best. She moans slightly when the cuff around her arm tightens. She’s showing clear signs of overdose, likely opioids. From her bruised and dotted arms, I’m guessing heroin. Per protocol, I administer naloxone, an antagonist to the opioids. Two minutes later, as if startled awake by a nightmare, she stares me in the eye. The naloxone is working.