“Hey, can you hear me? Are you all right?”
A young woman, probably in her 20s, was calling to a man of around the same age who was slumped on the sidewalk.
“Wake up. Can you hear me?”
The man was not responding.
This happened recently, at the end of the workday, as I was leaving work. It was less than 100 steps from the door to the office building.
“Do you want me to call 911 for you?” I asked.
“No. He’ll be fine,” the woman said.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I can get them right now.”
“We’ve got a phone and we’ll call if we need,” said another woman just behind the couple on the sidewalk.
I do not know exactly what had happened to this young man, other than that he had collapsed and was not conscious. However, this location, in downtown Penticton, has a lot of substance use. I see it happening in the green space near my office. First responders are often called to the downtown because of toxic drugs. Sometimes there are serious consequences.
At times, I have noticed people in the area — not medical responders — with Naloxone kits. These kits are used to reverse or reduce the effects of opioids and to restore breathing after an overdose.
The two women with the young man had both declined my offer to call for help, and they had said they would call if they needed care. I don’t know if they did.
All three were young, and they were at a point where life should have been ripe with hope and opportunities. What I was seeing instead was something different. It’s a story that plays out far too often.
What mattered was that a young man was down and needed help. That was all.
In April 2016, British Columbia declared the toxic drug crisis a public health emergency. Since that time, more than 16,000 deaths have been attributed to this ongoing crisis. That is far too many tragedies.
In September 2025, the latest month for which statistics are available, there were 158 toxic drug deaths in British Columbia, or an average of 5.3 deaths each day. Fentanyl was found in around 70 per cent of these cases.
Overdose deaths occur in large urban centres such as Vancouver and also in smaller centres. Information from the British Columbia Coroners Service lists Terrace and Campbell River – both smaller communities – as places with a significant number of drug-related deaths.
Then, my thoughts turned to others who have also been affected by this ongoing health crisis.
At least two families I know in Summerland have lost family members to toxic drug overdoses. One of my relatives who lived elsewhere in the Okanagan was dealing with his own substance use disorder. He is clean now , and his life is good, but not everyone has the same outcome.
He’s one of the fortunate ones.
I do not know what happened to the three people I saw near my office.
Since that evening, I have not been able to stop thinking about them – especially the young man who was collapsed on the sidewalk.
Something needs to be done to put an end to the toxic drug crisis we are experiencing in British Columbia.
It is easy for armchair critics to respond with simplistic generalizations and pithy platitudes, but such responses help nobody and do nothing to end what is happening around us.
I don’t know the best approach to take. And I don’t know how to respond when – not if – I see something like this happening again.
The next time, the outcome could be fatal.
John Arendt is the editor of the Summerland Review.