Last night I went from EMT-B class, which was dismissed early, to a fatal MVA that was being toned out as we were being dismissed. Old lady, who reminded me of my gram, pulled out at an intersection onto a main road where the speed limit was 55mph. I guess she didn’t see the Ford F-350 coming, and pulled out, anyway. T-boned the driver side of her small car. The beam between the front and back doors was broken right in half and pushed in, and the lady’s seat was where the center console had been. No extrication needed, since the car was already opened up like a can opener hit it. I got there while they were working on her in the rig. They had me secure my vehicle and ride in the back to help. Took turns doing compressions and bagging. We lost her. She was really bad, and I knew when I saw her we couldn’t save her. But we try, anyway. I found myself waking up this morning, smiling, knowing we did our best, and I was a part of it, rather than mostly an observer. We can’t save them all, because they’re not all meant to be saved.
I got to take a really hard look at the car when we came back. Me and another corps member had secured our vehicles at the scene, so we got dropped back off at the scene. The Capt and I took a look at the car, with a flashlight, and he explained to me a lot about what happens in crashes like that. It was good learning. So was being able to poke and feel the subQ emphysema that developed while we were transporting.
But it also reminded me of my gram and her accident out in Syracuse a few years ago. And got me to thinking about the people who responded to help her. They must have felt so good about themselves and their work that day. They actually managed to save her. At least for another year and a half. She was never quite "right" afterward. And I wonder if there was someone there like me, just learning this stuff, who helped and learned something that day. About their work, and about themselves.
Here was my gram's van, eerily similar to the damage of the little Buick last night. This was the only picture of it I was ever allowed to see. I guess my family thought I couldn't handle it.
BTW, I'm up to three deads in two months. Maybe it'd be better for our patients if I stop responding.
I got to take a really hard look at the car when we came back. Me and another corps member had secured our vehicles at the scene, so we got dropped back off at the scene. The Capt and I took a look at the car, with a flashlight, and he explained to me a lot about what happens in crashes like that. It was good learning. So was being able to poke and feel the subQ emphysema that developed while we were transporting.
But it also reminded me of my gram and her accident out in Syracuse a few years ago. And got me to thinking about the people who responded to help her. They must have felt so good about themselves and their work that day. They actually managed to save her. At least for another year and a half. She was never quite "right" afterward. And I wonder if there was someone there like me, just learning this stuff, who helped and learned something that day. About their work, and about themselves.
Here was my gram's van, eerily similar to the damage of the little Buick last night. This was the only picture of it I was ever allowed to see. I guess my family thought I couldn't handle it.
BTW, I'm up to three deads in two months. Maybe it'd be better for our patients if I stop responding.
There must have been something there that they saw that I didn't. Or they wanted to work on skills.