Temperature Management

We get a call for an “unknown medical, sheriff’s on scene” at the beach. The sun has gone down. A drowning, an overdose, or a trauma is what I’m thinking. We get to the patient and she is lying in the sand, deflated inner-tube underneath her, soaking wet, bra exposing one breast, and shorts on. Her long hair is half buried in the sand.

“She’s breathing,” a firefighter says.

“We gave her four doses of Narcan,” a cop says.

There are six men standing around this woman, two with flashlights shining them on her. 

I think, “Jesus, gentlemen, are you just going to fucking stand there, shining flash lights on her?” I crouch by her head, and put my hand on her forehead to feel her skin temp in a non-threatening way, she’s freezing, “Hey, my name’s Tiffany, can you talk to me?” 

She barely moans. I pull her bra strap over her shoulder so her tits aren’t showing.

A couple guys run to grab the megamover which is like a giant blanket with handles, so we can get her out of here. It’s hard to run in the sand and we’re a ways out so it takes a minute. 

She starts foaming at the mouth. I say, “Let’s sit her up.” 

But they show up with the megamover and do an embarrassing job of getting her on it, flopping her around like a doll. I don’t think they want to touch her. That’s not a problem I’ve ever seen on a call before but it’s my clear impression. I’m not sure why. She is an absolute mess, half-naked foaming at the mouth, but she is decent now, she’s petite and could be easily lifted, and she needs help. I’m pondering why this group is acting weird and then I start pondering how she ended up like this.

I say, “I know a jogger called 911, but was there anyone who knows what happened? Did he just find her like this?”

“I guess someone yelled, ‘She’s overdosing’ and ran off. So, the jogger headed this way and found her alone.” the cop tells me.

It was an absolutely spectacular sunset that night. We were posted by the beach an hour or so earlier when the sun was setting and it was all orange and pink. Bright, bright. The whole sky. This is a thing that started when I was 25, after a difficult period followed by the beginning of dating my now husband, but a good sunrise or sunset will make my eyes well up, and it had that night.

I wondered if she was on a date. They had inner-tubes and some drugs and were enjoying the sunset. Maybe she got to enjoy it for a moment like me. Maybe she got high to watch it to feel more awe. I don’t know, but she definitely saw it, and it must have been the start of a good night turned south. Who was that Goddamn coward with her? It makes sense to me that he brought the drugs. If she did, it seems like he would have stayed. She either took it first, or he knew how much he could take and misjudged what she could handle. Whatever the case, fuck that piece of shit. 

She did not wake up on the way to the hospital. Her core temp was 91 when we got there.  It’s supposed to be 98. She was severely hypothermic. I learned later she had overdosed on some new drug, I wrote down the name but can’t find it now, similar to a benzodiazepine. Drugs are dumb, but I am so sorry that woman was left alone. I am so sorry such a beautiful evening took such a dark, dark turn. She had to stay in the ICU, I don’t know for how long.  And that asshole, that asshole just ran off. He left her there to die, and she would have if the jogger hadn’t run over. I notice my jaw tighten as I work to come to terms with the reality that we are capable of abandoning each other like that. 

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Review

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This piece is blunt and unsentimental: the narrator describes the situation in a straightforward, almost clinical way, but the underlying frustration and anger are palpable. It explores the contrast between beauty and suffering – the reflection on the sunset vs. the overdose victim’s condition underscores the stark contrast between moments of awe and moments of devastation.

The story highlights the impersonal brutality of drugs and addiction – the overdose is presented as something both tragic and avoidable, with drugs framed as senseless agents of destruction. The rage toward the person who ran away speaks to the wider issue of accountability in substance use and overdose situations—the people who provide or share drugs often disappear when things go wrong, leaving others to pick up the pieces.

The juxtaposition of the sunset with the overdose victim adds a powerful layer. It suggests that tragedy and beauty coexist, often within the same moment. The narrator’s emotional response to the sunset shows their deep sensitivity—something that contrasts with the detachment of some of the responders. The story acknowledges the fleeting beauty of life before its abrupt descent into darkness.

The men standing around, fumbling with the megamover, and hesitating to touch the patient highlight a failure of care, possibly due to discomfort, bias, or a lack of urgency. The story conveys the exhaustion that comes from repeated exposure to human negligence, suffering, and the failures of others, exposing the emotional and ethical weight carried by all first responders.

This is a powerful and quietly devastating piece. It speaks to the emotional toll of first line work, the moral failures of both individuals and institutions, and the fragile nature of life. The raw honesty and frustration make it haunting and memorable.