When I was Brave

Every now and again a situation arises that requires an enormous amount of strength and courage. Over the course of my life I have been faced with these challenges that have changed my perspective and given me a new awareness of who I am and how far far I have progressed in my life journey. One such instance occurred when I was in my junior year of high school. The morning started routinely. My brother and I awaken to the smell of bacon frying. My mother called to us to get up, get dressed and ready for school. It was snowing lightly, so I knew we had to hurry before it really started coming down. My brother and I grabbed our lunches and put them in our bags. Mom handed us the bacon and egg sandwiches wrapped in paper towels, told us to hurry, and kissed us goodbye. We were going to take the stairs but, we decided to take the elevator. We walked across the breezeway to the elevator. My brother pressed the button and we waited. After a few moments the elevator door slowly slid open and for a second; everything seemed to be in slow motion. Our vision seemed to be obstructed as the lights in the elevator car were dim and yellowed, one of the lights was missing adding to the uneasiness. The air had a strong unfamiliar smell. As we stepped into the car, I heard a moaning. I looked to my right and in the front corner there lie one of the brothers from downstairs. He was semiconscious his eyes had a icy glare and his mouth slightly parted. I could see saliva moving slowly down the side of his face. Around his arm was a belt and hanging from his arm was a hypodermic nettle. My brother  gasped and a chill shot through my body. My brother whispered, "...is he dead?" I bent over and looked the boy in the face. I could feel breath ever so slightly. "No, he's still breathing. He's overdosed on heroin." During the late 1960s and early 1970s, heroin was the drug of choice in poor urban cityscapes. Troops recently home from Viet Nam brought with them a new, stronger drug that became the scourge of the poor. The spread of addiction invaded many homes and cut short many lives. The young man on the elevator floor was about to join those no longer above ground unless someone could revive him. That someone was me. I did not wake up with the intention of saving anything or anyone but there was no time to think I had to act. As the elevator door closed everything I ever knew and was taught flooded my entire being. As the elevator came to rest at the ground floor a sudden calm swept through me and I barked to my brother to knock on the apartment door to my right and ask for a tray of ice, some table salt and warm water. He followed my instructions and seconds later he handed me the item. I then rinsed out the bloody heroin filled needle and replaced it with a salt solution. I then re tightened the belt that was around my friend's arm and continued to inject the salt solution into his lifeless arm. We put the ice wrapped in a towel around his and in his pants in the crouch area. Within seconds the young man started to stir. I signaled to my brother to help me get him to his feet. Still groggy, he started to respond. He started to mumble incoherently, we walked him outside into the lightly falling snow. The reality of we we had just done sent a chill through my body. My brother looked at me and smiled. We were brave that day and came to understand that we were a little different from that day forward.