A Hero's Nightmare

Beep beep beep beep… “Station 27, Station 26 Squad 98, Life Support 6, on the cross roads between Route 47 and Broadway, Port Elizabeth Maurice River Township a motor vehicle accident, rescue assignment.” I quickly rolled out of bed, afraid. Have you ever been afraid to help someone? I have. Being afraid comes to certain people in the field of firefighting; however, that night for me, fear was not an option.
I grabbed a pair of socks from my dresser draw and hopped down the stairs as I put them on my feet. In the kitchen, I found my keys in the dark and ran to my car. Since I wasn’t wearing any shoes, the grass felt damp under my feet. I climbed into my car and turned the key. As my car started, I plugged in my lights, and blue flashes came from my head lights and tail lights as I raced out of my driveway. I sped the three quarters of a mile down to the firehouse and quickly parked horizontally on the vertical parking spots, jumped out of car, and turned off my lights.
I ran into the stations as fast as I could, my heart beating wildly. Pulling my bunker pants off the bottom shelf, I quickly hopped into them. After I pulled them up, I slid my suspenders up around my shoulders. Grabbing my helmet off the top rack and my coat off the hook, I ran into the bay room. As I opened the back passenger door to our rescue truck 2703, I threw my gear in. Slamming the door I threw myself into the front seat and immediately reached for the radio. As the truck lurched forward the siren blasted and the driver gave me a look of despair.
“2703 responding,” I said loud and clear over the radio. I heard a voice come back on the air and respond “10-4 2703. 19:05.” After putting the radio back so many things ran through my head as Bob, the driver, and I raced toward the accident. Lights flashing, I stepped on the air horn, and traffic parted as if I were Moses parting the Red Sea.
We traveled another three quarters of a mile only to come across a scene I never wanted to see. A silver car slammed on the driver’s side door by a tanker truck, and smashed completely in the front, there was no hood left. I grabbed the radio again to call the county.
“2703 on location.” I was shaking, and I think it showed in my voice as the driver, Bob turned and looked at me.
“10-4 2703. 19:07,” the county dispatcher said, and then there was silence on the radio, but not outside of the truck. I heard screaming coming from the car and I knew that I had to push my fear aside if I was going to help this lady.
Before the truck even came to a complete stop, I was opening the door and jumping out. Grabbing my gear from the back seat, I ran around to the other side of the truck struggling to put my coat and my helmet on. I reached up on the side of the truck and opened one of the compartment doors. I stretched for the large trauma bag, pulling it off the bottom shelf along with the orange bag of neck braces off the second shelf. Tugging medical gloves out of the box, I put them on as I ran to this lady trapped in her car.
My tags clanged together as I ran to the victim, praying and hoping I could save her. Fear pulsing through my head as I peered into the car at her. Unconscious and slumped over the steering wheel, she appeared so badly hurt, that I knew I had to get into that car fast. Station 26 from Leesburg was already on the job. They had the jaws of life out and popped open the back driver side door for the EMT’s and me to get to work.
I dropped the trauma bag on the ground and climbed into the back seat. There was blood everywhere and it was making me sick. The iron smell filled my nose and mouth. My stomach felt like it was doing summersaults and the twist all at once. One of the EMT’s grabbed her head for stabilization and I began to measure her to a neck brace. Holding my fingers against her neck, I felt her light pulse which made my pulse rise.
“Ok, after I get this neck brace on her we need to get her oxygen immediately.” I yelled to the EMT outside of the car. She ran back to the ambulance and grabbed a green bag out of the back compartment. I knew it was an oxygen tank, and I knew we needed it fast. I told the EMT to not let go of her head as I reached for the orange bag of neck braces and grabbed a four short for her. I wrapped the brace around her neck and once again check checked her pulse. Boom…..boom……….boom………….boo……………..and then there was nothing.
“Check her pulse,” I said to the EMT kneeling next to me. I grabbed her head to stabilize it while he checked her pulse. He looked me in the eye and shook his head. She was dead in my hands, but I couldn’t let her go. My hands were drenched in sweat inside of my blue medical gloves. I wanted to rip them off but I couldn’t move my hands; they seemed stuck. I peered down at the crimson streaks in which my gloves were covered and watched a drop glide from the front of my glove onto the floor and hit with a splash.
“Call it, Sam,” said Will, an EMT, and I just shook my head. I couldn’t do it, how could I? “You were the last person to feel her pulse, you have to call it.” I let go of her head, pulled up my coat sleeve, and looked at my watch.
“DOA 19:22.” I screamed, and then everything began to quiet down. I got out of the car and pulled off my crimson gloves, dropping them on the ground. The Jaws of Life that had been working diligently stopped, and then red and blues lights became a blur in my eyes. I walked over to the side of the road and sat down. My stomach was in my throat as I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and my lighter. As I placed the unlit cigarette on my lips, I could hear my chief on the radio to county dispatch.
“DOA 19:22 cancel the chopper and send out Fatal Accident and the Medical Examiner.” I stopped listening at that point, my heart felt weak. I looked over to a few people on the side of the road crying and thought to myself ‘why are they upset?’ Just then, a friend of mine from another local rescue station walked over to me.
“I got here right after it happened,” Steve began. “I was riding my motorcycle and just came across this. She was screaming, but I couldn’t get into the car.” I pulled my lighter up to my mouth and heard the crackle of the flame. I took a long intoxicating breath, but it felt as though I hadn’t moved. Steve had a sad look in his eyes and pointed to the people crying on the side of the road. “That’s her family; they were two cars behind her when it happened.” Then he got up and walked away. Puffs of smoke swirled around me as I knew what I had to do. I threw down my cigarette and I stood up; the whole road felt like it was on a slant for a moment, and I felt like I was going to tumble backwards, but I regained myself. I looked over at the car; my fellow firefighters were beginning to put white sheets over the car. I glanced over to her family and knew that this wasn’t going to be easy.
I ambled over to the side of the road, my heart pounding, but as I said fear was not an option for me. I looked into the eyes of the woman I would come to find out to be the victim’s daughter, and I couldn’t find my voice. I shook my head and went to speak, but the lady behind the young girl told me it was ok, I didn’t have to say anything.
“If there is anything you need, anything at all, let me or any of the other firefighters know and we will do our best to try and help you.” I slowly stumbled back to my little piece of sidewalk, which seemed like my only piece of sanity at this time of hell. I sat there for what seemed like hours, when my chief walked up to me.
“Sam, I know this is hard but I need you to direct traffic for me for a little while until we can get the fire police down here and we can get them fully redirected to Port Cumberland Road.” I stood up and wobbled a little and then regained myself. I took the cones off the fire truck. They seemed so heavy to me, but maybe it was just me being so mentally weak. I didn’t know which end was up. The dark night sky seemed to connect with the whirling blue and red lights on the ground.
As I directed the traffic, I thought of nothing except going back to my mother and giving her the biggest hug ever. I gave short directions and didn’t answer any questions because the words were too painful for me to speak. After a while all the traffic was re-directed to another road and my tiny task was done. I glided across the road to stand with my fellow firefighters as they comforted me and told me it would be ok. But I knew that it wouldn’t be ok, a woman was dead; she died in my hands. My hands would never be clean again.
That night comes and goes in my memory. I always think about that lady and I always think what if… what if I had gotten to the station sooner? What if she didn’t pull in front of that tanker truck? What if I had avoided the call that night? I knew that I was afraid when I heard the call, when I saw the scene of the accident, and I have been afraid ever since. But I still roll out of bed when my fire pager calls me because I know that someone out there needs my help, and I can’t let fear get in the way of what is right to me. Fear for me is not an option, and knowing that scares me.