When I look back at college and those years, where I consider my transition to what I am today would have to be the accident on the way to class. Now, many people say that Nursing school zaps the fun or the kid right out of you, and true it can. Having some old army nurse pointing her finger in your face and saying,"If you did that to someone in real life like you wrote on the test they could rupture and hemorrhage to death in under five minutes!" certainly puts things into perspective. But for me, the most profound change from my mellow and loose, hippie-like mentality hit in the latter part of spring my first year.
I was living in the town of Morehead, but I was taking my classes through Richmond at Eastern Kentucky University, and in that hour long commute, I would take the back roads, because I preferred the scenery. Along that stretch of road, is one really sharp curve, on which sat a gas station. The road itself had no guardrails, and the land surrounding the road was around 3 feet lower than the road itself. Only a few small scattered houses were in the area, a place known as Salt Lick. I was driving along with my partner at the time, messing with the radio because the reception in that area sucks, and heard a loud boom up ahead. A tan truck and run into the coming lane, hitting a navy blue car then flying off the road down the 3 ft side into a field. The Navy car, having been hit in the rear drivers side, spun around then hit a pole, right next to the gas station.
"OH Shit!" I shouted pulling over to the side. My partner and I, both student nurses, thought we should go and help until someone arrived. I of course was in R.N. school, he was in L.P.N school. As we pulled up, we seen the man in the tan truck get out, he seemed OK, and was walking, so we ran to the car, which was twisted around the telephone pole. The closer we got, the worse the situation looked.
In the front seat were two women, a younger driver, probably early 30s, and what I assumed at the time was her mother in the passenger seat, probably late 60s from what I could tell. It was so hard to tell, blood was streaming down both their faces. The drivers legs were somehow shoved nearly in the lap of her mother, and looked broken at the mid to upper thigh, her pants also covered with blood. The sound of a child crying uncontrollably was coming from the back seat. The actual top of the back seat was down into the car, and a three year old had been flung into the back driver floorboard. Her forehead was gashed, displaying the bone underneath, but no other major injuries that I could see. My partner was working on the mother, having taken off his shirt to put pressure on some bleeding. The worker at the gas station yelled that the ambulance was coming, and came running with towels from the store.
"Where are we?" the mother said hazy eyed. "My baby."
"I've got her she's OK." I said. Then I stopped. Suddenly it was like time had stopped for me, and I turned from the child I was caring for now on the ground and looked behind me again at the car. In the floorboard I saw a baby's bottle.
The dread in that moment, I can't describe to you. My mind went wild, was it thrown, was it...THE SEAT. I never lifted up the back part of the back seat.
The man from the truck was still trying to get up to the gas station. In all honesty, I couldn't have cared less at that moment.
I turned to the car and raised up the back seat, and my heart instantly sank. The child looked to be maybe 3 weeks old, in a car seat, but apparently, no body bothered to buckle down the seat itself. Or maybe they did, I don't know, all I know, is it didn't help. The child looked like a porcelain doll, but was not breathing, eyes shut, and neck obviously broken. Clear fluid, obviously spinal fluid, was coming from its nose and ears. As I reached in, by some miracle, the ambulance pulled in. The station was thankfully just moments from the scene. But still, I can't help but think about it. I should have been doing CPR on an infant, instead of focusing on the other child and helping with the adults. Would it have survived, probably not. But still, priorities, thoroughness. I messed up, and I messed up big.
I skipped class that day, the last day I ever skipped. I swore, I wouldn't be unprepared again. I swore, whatever the situation, I would completely "look in the car." That I wouldn't just memorize medicine for the tests, I would learn it, and not be caught off guard that way again. It crosses my mind often, reminding me of a few things. Why I don't want to do emergency medicine for one, and why you should never take things at "face value." Look for the clues, what is under the seat, don't half-ass it, whatever it is. Something big could be hiding where you can't see it, something that will change everything.
I heard later that the family had been trying to find the guys that stopped to help. I never came forward, I couldn't face them. I know I couldn't have changed it probably, and I know they didn't have hard feelings toward us, but still, I couldn't do it. For me, "The Worst Accident" was not noticing or finding the infant.
Later, passing by the same area, I seen a cross with the child's name on it. His name was James. Ironic in a way, two people named James disappeared that day.
18 comments on "The Worst Accident."
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I dreamed part of it, and thought maybe putting it down would be helpful.
I took it as "damn, just throw a downer on somebody from the get go."[LOL][SMILE][ROLLEYES]
Overlook me, Haven't been up long or had enough caffine.[WINK]
Nobody could have saved the baby.
I hope you aren't beating yourself up over this. Its a shame about the child but from what you wrote, the prognosis was pretty bad. If the child's neck was broken it probably was a compund break from the description of the spinal fluids coming from its mouth and nose. Had that child survived it probably would've been brain dead.
What you both did do was to save the women. I am not sure if there was another child, but if there was, you and your partner saved that one.
In war there are some pretty hard facts of life and death that go on within the MASH units. Anyone who is familiar with emergency rooms know that this goes on during a big event that involves a lot of people.
You and your buddy did good. Pat yourself on the back and congratulate yourself. Contact those people whom you helped. You will find it will be a refreshing experience.[COOL]
You do a job that I wouldn't even think of doing--I'm not that brave!
I read several of your articles- this one stopped me. I cannot help but think what a brave and compassionate person you are.
I lived in northern Kentucky for a while. My father was born and raised in Kentucky, as his parents and their parents, who were from Paris, KY. I love Kentucky! Last year I tried to take a "scenic route" from Paris to I75, and ended up driving a one-lane dirt road that followed the Kentucky River for almost twenty miles. What an experience! On one side was almost a sheer drop to the river, and every time a car came from the opposite direction, I had to pull over to allow him room to get by. Scary, but, oh, how beautiful! I will never forget that drive. BTW: the painting with the yellowish sky and the Queen Anne's lace bordering the dirt road is from a photo I took on this drive. It is called, "Morning Light". I know in my heart God kissed Kentucky. I cannot otherwise account for its beauty.
I have never made it to Paris. But you probably know the place I am talking about then, the road between Cave run and Owingsville, instead of taking I-64. It's a two laner though. But therer are plenty of those single lane roads around me now, here in the southeast part.
I seen some of your art, Did you do those? They are spectacular! I love Kentucky, I can't picture myself anywhere else, but Florida is my favorite vacation spot. Miami and the Keys, I could call that a second home.[COOL][SMILE]
Jenn