Waking up, he sat up, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath that just absolutely would not come no matter how hard he tried to force it. Lisa sat bolt upright in bed, the tossing and turning and mumbling having woken her up from her own very limited quality of sleep, and placed a hand over Greg's chest, as she hushed him gently while he looked around in a state of pure panic, gasping and clawing for air that just absolutely would not seem to come. "It's okay Greg, it's just a panic attack. It's okay Greg, it's Lisa. It's Cuddy. You don't need to panic, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. Just breathe deep and slow for me,"
Greg kept panicking, clearly still half in his dream, hyperventilating and knotting his hands through the blanket and sheet, his chest and shoulders heaving, his eyes shooting around the room. "Greg, you need to slow down, you're going to have an asthma attack if you don't slow down. Greg, look, there's James," Lisa pointed to James, sleeping through it all. How the hell is he sleeping through this? Is this that normal that it doesn't even wake him up?
"James!" Lisa snapped, violently shaking his shoulder awake, he stirred but didn't wake up. What the hell? Don't tell me that he's taken something! What would he have taken? He wouldn't have touched Greg's Vicodin, would he? Oh my God! Lisa kept shaking him more and more violently, and yet he wasn't waking. More concerningly, Lisa realised that she hadn't heard him snoring either since Greg had woken her up.
"James?" Lisa heard Greg's voice break through, he was now fully awake and out of his dream stated panic attack, and now seemingly facing a real one, "Lisa, Lisa, why isn't he waking up?"
"I don't know, Greg," she mumbled, as she climbed over Greg and ran around to the other side of the bed, and her face drained of colour when she saw the amber pill bottle lying loosely in the hand of his arm that was hanging over the edge of the bed, "Greg, how many Vicodin did you have left?" she panicked.
"I don't know exactly… why?" Greg replied, panic clearly rising in his eyes.
"He's got an empty pill bottle in his hand!" Lisa yelled back and Greg felt his blood rush cold in a way that he'd never felt before, "you need to think, Greg, think!" Lisa yelled.
"I don't know! Narcan! There's Narcan in the bag!" Greg yelled back, "he's still breathing," although when Greg took a closer look, James' chest was hardly moving at all, his breathing was extremely shallow and irregular, "quick, Lisa, quick! If his breathing slows anymore…" he probably won't wake up Greg's mind finished for him and he tried to shut the voice out, but it only kept going, if his breathing slows anymore or becomes any more irregular, he will probably die. Plus, he was drinking all that alcohol, and his body is opioid naïve; there's no guarantee that Narcan will even work.
Everything felt as though it was going in slow motion; and as soon as Lisa administered the Narcan, she immediately called 911, I should've done that first Lisa's mind raced, scolding herself.
Lisa was giving him rescue breaths, trying to keep oxygen running through his body, Greg felt as though he was useless, but kept his hand around James' wrist feeling for a pulse, that was there, but thready and weak.
They waited there, watching and monitoring him incredibly carefully, with more attention to every movement and detail than honestly either of them could remember doing before, continuing the rescue breaths. Hoping and praying that the Narcan would begin taking effect soon, that this wasn't going to happen, this wasn't going to be it.
Within a couple of minutes, James stirred, and shoved Lisa off him, "what the hell?" he growled, clearly in a very agitated state.
"What the hell from you, James!" Lisa resisted the urge to slap him across the face for being so stupid and reckless, but Greg wasn't afraid to.
He whacked James on the face, his eyes flashing with a fury that either of them had rarely seen, wide and staring, his nostrils flaring in a panicked state as he stared down at James with a mix of panic, unbridled fury, desperation, and fear. "You fucking OD'd!" Greg bellowed, his chest heaving, "you nearly died, James! You absolute fucking idiot!"
James just stared back blankly, his mind obviously still recovering and coming to the realisation at what he'd done. Within minutes, there was a pounding on the front door, and Lisa ran down to answer it, "he's upstairs," she stated, and ran back up the stairs, the EMTs followed her up to the vision of James lying in bed, "James, get up and walk," Lisa commanded, and James went to stand up, but just flopped back.
"You already have given him Narcan? How long ago?" one of the EMTs questioned, which Lisa responded that yes she had, and it was probably about 10 minutes ago, "okay, so it's probably beginning to wear off," the EMT continued, administering another dose to James, and once again, James' level of consciousness picked up, and the ambulance officers helped walk/drag him down the stairs and Greg followed behind them, his leg screaming but that was the last thing on his mind right now. The EMTs were strapping an increasingly aggravated James into the bed, and Greg climbed into the ambulance; Lisa touched him on the shoulder; "I'll follow you in the car to the hospital, okay? I'll be right there," Greg just nodded, and Lisa ran over to the truck roaring up the engine and following them to the hospital in Aberdeen; not a single other person in the house had even stirred.