My name is Jimmy. I’m a Grandad, a father, a taxi-driver and I owe my life to Narcan.


Last year I was using 80mg of Methadone, takeaway, but I would never drink it. Using a butterfly, I would carefully, slowly inject that 80mg and feel the warm slow rush of opiate through my system. Getting 2 takeaways over a long weekend I decided, what the hell, 160mg IV butterfly and then nothing else…. quiet…. silence…. long…… until I was jumping up on my feet, in a hospital, covered in wires attached to my body and saying, “what the fuck is going on?!” to everyone around me.


I had been Narcan’d back to life. I went home. Luckily, I still had my other 2 doses and away I went again… butterfly…slow…. careful injection …. next thing I know I am now awake in the hospital AGAIN, but this time I am being told that I am a suicide risk.


So, I am kept in, without my consent.  Funny thing is. I speak about Narcan with a respect in my voice. I have kids and grandkids and I didn’t MEAN to overdose like that.


I am close to 60 years of age. I am not your normal “drug addict” that you would expect to see on the street.


I look like Santa now, with my white hair and beard.

I am alive today, not because I made the best decisions for myself.

I laugh about cheating death, because its easier than really feeling how close it had been and thinking that I may never have seen my grandchildren again.


I am the face of what Narcan saves. I am the patriarch of a family that needs me. I have black and white grandchildren, some that will follow in my path and some I hope that will learn from mine and my children’s mistakes.


Until then I am grateful for that Narcan. I am here to be an old man, because of it.