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cutlip (profile) wrote,
on 12-19-2003 at 4:42pm
Music: Meatloaf.
It's getting closer to Christmas. And I'm wonderingwonderingWonderRing. What will this break mean. If anything at all?

Taking off. Screaming down hallways with that bloodpressurerush pounding in the ears. Nostrils drying out. Mouth devoid of moisture. On the balls of one's feet, freezingbleedhinghands clamped into fists pumping at the sides. Muscles.

I like human anatomy. Hence, being an EMT. There was an accident that I didn't want to deal with yesterday. A man on the other side of a thirty foot wall of water. Freezingcoldwater. He was stuck in his car. Nobody saw him. But.Me.

Running over and lifting the side of the car. He's in there. His face is cut up, revealing those bubble-gum pink pieces of flesh from between spurts of red blood. It was so red. It was everywhere.

The water leaked into the car. About a foot of it. Icy-cold, touching a victim in such shock that he turned bloodshot, wide eyes on me, lips pale and trembling.

I'd never make a good.. offstandish person. I care too much about people in general to let things like this go by without doing anything. It strikes such fear into me.. installs such a feeling of deep pity that I have to block it out to focus. It's such a hard thing to do-- you want to help EVERYONE.

I didn't have band-aids [day off yousee] or any gauze. So I took off my shirt and wrapped it around his neck and upper torso, creating a sling for him to hold one of his mangled arms in. I had to carry his out of the car in a style reffered to as "the infant carry"; tucking the head close to your body and running with the victim.

I ran with him past the people staring and got back into the car. Drove as fast as I could with this man laying in the seat next to me, laying flat on the passenger seat [tipped it down for him]. And tears were sliding out of his eyes. And he grabbed my thigh and squeezed gently. And whispered, "It hurts".

I said I understood. And I was sorry. And I was doing my best to get him to a hospital. I talked with him on the way there, speeding through traffic. I told him my name. I talked to him. Just talked. Told him about myself and what was happening -- what was going to happen. He nodded gently, as much as he could, and blood kept coming out of him-- 'm so used to having medical equipment that I wanted to do something. Anything.

Have you ever seen a face so full of fear and pain that you want to help.. and cannot?

I wasn't allowed to see him while the hospital took care of him. They brought me back my shirt in a biohazard bag, handed it to me briskly, stated, "He died." And walked away.

I felt guilty. And there was the little slithering laugh in the back of my head. Sssthsthsthsthsth. I couldn't sleep and have been up ever since.

Wastedyouth. Oooo~oo.
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