Did I Say I Want Trauma? I Meant I Want My Mama!

As I have said before…be careful what I wish for! I wanted my first gunshot wound…Check. I got my first cardiac arrest out of the way…Check. I still had different medical and trauma calls that I had not run, and I was getting nervous about them. But I was getting plenty of experience running non-emergency transfers and a whole lot of other medical calls. But as the time passed, I was worried that my fresh-out-of-school-knowledge would not be there when I needed it on runs like pediatric emergencies (most every paramedic’s kryptonite).

Cough, wheeze, gag…I was awakened by the sound of my cat retching at the end of my bed. Nothing makes me move faster than the sound of an animal barfing. I looked at the clock, and O…M…G! I overslept! I had exactly 20 minutes to get ready and be out the door. There was no time to iron my uniform; no time to fix my hair; no time to apply makeup. I was running around my place and throwing clothes on like a madwoman! It was definitely a baseball cap night. This was going to be a bad shift!

I climbed in to the cab of the rig, and flopped back in my chair. I picked up the mic, keyed it, and grumpily put us in service. I was hoping upon all hope that dispatch would leave us alone, but that was not in the cards. I still had the attitude that every call was an emergency until proven otherwise, but that night was proving very difficult to believe it.

I am pretty sure that we had been called to every one of our “frequent fliers”, and I was about to freak out. I was ingesting coffee like it was the one thing keeping me alive (and I may have added some mascara to make me feel a little better). My partner kept poking the bear that night. It seemed to be his favorite sport considering I was usually a pretty happy-go-lucky gal! Worst. Night. Ever. Maybe I was “hangry”.

BEEP. BEEP. “Unit 120. Respond to MVA on I-23 and HWY 9…on I-23.” Lights…Check. Sirens…Check. Irritation…Gone. We were only about four minutes away from the scene, so we pulled up before the fire department. I surveyed the scene as I stepped out. It looked like two vehicles were involved in the accident.

A car that looked like it used to be a convertible (Car #1) was smashed against a cement pillar under an overpass. The front of it had completely disappeared into the backseat area. The dark colored trunk had the Mercedes symbol that was standing out prominently and gleaming with the emergency lights in the background.

The other vehicle (Car #2) looked to be an older 4-door sedan. The front of the vehicle was skewered onto the median guardrail, but the rest of the vehicle looked relatively intact. I heard loud crying coming from inside that car, so I headed over to check out the patient or patients.

I walked up to Car #2 as a highway patrolman was approaching me. “He’s dead,” the officer informed me. What?…I heard crying. I rolled my eyes as I walked up (Did he not hear the crying?), and …”HOLY JESUS JOSEPH and MARY!” I looked through the driver’s side window at a patient from the neck down. LITERALLY! There was a giant hole in the windshield, and blood/brain matter splattered all over the vehicle…including the wailing guy in the passenger seat. I am fairly certain my eyes were bugging out of my head. My brain was trying to process what I was looking at and what I was supposed to do next. Thank God for the fire department showing up so that I could have them take care of the passenger. He didn’t appear to be terribly injured, so I had time to check out the other patients.

I trotted over to Car #1. There wasn’t much left of the vehicle, but I needed to confirm that there were no patients that needed immediate attention. As I took in the scene before me, I was able to piece together part of what had happened at this horrific accident. The highway patrolman filled in the gaps.

The convertible was traveling down the interstate at a speed of over 100 mph when the car struck the cement pillar with no braking. The force of the impact decapitated the driver of the convertible, and his head flew backwards…through the windshield of the 4-door sedan following behind. The head of Car #1’s driver struck the head of Car #2’s driver. She was killed instantly. Her car swerved erratically and became skewered onto the median guardrail. Apparently there were a few witnesses (other than the passenger) that watched the accident happen from a few car lengths back.

After the passenger was transported off the scene by another ambulance, I had a moment to take in the scene and say 3 Hail Mary’s (which would become a ritual of mine). There were police vehicles all over blocking traffic. News vans were on the overpass and the other side of the interstate trying to get a good shot of the scene. Daily life was starting to begin with the sunrise. Rush hour traffic was about to be clogged due to what had happened overnight. It was so chaotic all around me, but I tuned it all out. I stared at the yellow plastic blankets that we draped over the bodies in each of the cars. What were they like in life? Did they have families? Were they in love? I started to get a lump in my throat. I was putting a life to these people…these people that were both reduced to broken bodies, and now a 22-year old paramedic’s most graphic nightmares. Worst. Night. Ever.

Rule #4: Don’t Put a Life to the Dead

On our way back to headquarters, at the end of our shift, I realized something…It didn’t matter that I was grumpy, and I was having bad night. Big deal! Who cares that I had to wear a baseball cap, and I didn’t have time to do my makeup before work. Boo-freaking-Hoo! It all boils down to perspective. Those poor people had The Worst Night of their lives. I did (and still do) have much to be grateful for! I am going home to call my mom!