“OK, I’ll lock up the training room. I suggest you get someone here for when practice ends.” I said. Clint hung up on me before I could say any more.

Right then one of the wrestlers came in asking to have his wrist taped. I of course obliged him and told him I had just been fired. He was so focused on his practice I think it did not fully register. I taped his wrist and told him that was my last tape job.

He walked out and I followed shortly. I left the disinfectant rag on the exam table, locked the door and slid the key to the training room under it. As I was walking away from Athletic training I kept thinking that Clint and I over reacted, but I was not backing down. I needed to study and I guess Clint needed someone to cover the Special Olympics.

I went home and started studying one whole hour in advance of my previous plans. Studying is a way of life in college. Some people study in the library. When I tried to study in the library, I would meet too many people who wanted to chat, compare notes, or ask me questions about classes, so it all ended up being a huge distraction for me. So I studied at home at the desk in my bedroom. It was quiet there and generally had everything at hand I needed to cram information into my head for class.

My bedroom window faced the main street in front of the apartment complex. There was a major intersection of an access route to I-69 and a cross street there, with a stoplight at the intersection. The intersection was pretty dangerous, as evidenced by the broken glass always strewn about from the frequent accidents. On this particular Saturday afternoon I had the window open to let in the cool but fine Michigan air. The street noise streaming in the window formed a kind of background noise that was more a comfort rather than a distraction. The cars and trucks speeding by were just white noise for me.

It was white noise that is, until I heard screeching brakes, and an explosion of crunching metal followed a dull, thunder-like rumble. I sprang to the window and could see an eighteen-wheeled tractor trailer careening out of control into the median of the on ramp and into some deep brush. Worse yet, I saw a family sedan come to rest in the road after being t-boned by the truck.

As an EMT with experience on an ambulance I knew the damage to the car was likely to have caused injuries. I bolted out the door and ran to the scene, which was no more than 100 feet from the door of the apartment complex. It was eerily quiet as I came up to the car. Quiet is good because if the car was running it was more of a fire hazard. In the distance the truck driver was getting out of the cab, obviously dazed, but walking wounded; also a good thing. In the car were two young women. The driver seemed to be trying to communicate with her passenger. No other bystanders were at the scene yet, so I asked the driver if she was hurt or trapped.

“I don’t think so. Help Carol. She’s not moving.” She pleaded.

“I can see that.”

I stuck my face in the broken window and tried to speak to the injured woman. She looked to be a high school student, maybe the driver’s younger sister. Carol was breathing, seat belted, and bleeding from her head and shoulder. Her left arm was also probably broken. I could not assess her lower extremities; legs and feet. They were wedged under the dashboard and crumpled passenger door. The truck had broadsided the car right at the passenger side door. Fortunately, and miraculously, the truck had not run over the car or flipped it over, but pushed it out of the way like a snowplow clearing fresh snow.

The bleeding from her face was not severe, but I was concerned that she might have a head and/or neck injury. I also needed to check her airway and make sure she could breathe. I was able to climb into the back seat behind her just as the driver was being helped away from the car by someone else who arrived on scene—maybe the truck driver. I told Carol what I was doing even though she was not conscious or responding to anything I said. I informed her I was going to hold her head still and monitor her breathing and pulse. I could hear her breathe and feel her pulse as I cradled her head and neck in my hands. 

Blood from multiple small lacerations, caused by flying glass, oozed onto my hands, but I was glad that I could not feel any glass in her cuts. I continued to talk to Carol so that if she regained consciousness she would not be too frightened and would remain calm. It was important that movement of her head and neck be kept to a minimum, and my hands positioned on her head and neck from the back seat of the car formed a kind of splint for her head and spine. I knew that sometimes a patient can regain consciousness after an accident like this and become agitated, which may make her injuries worse. So I did everything I could do to prevent further injury to Carol.

I could hear the sirens of the police, fire, and ambulance speeding our way. I told Carol that help would soon be here.

To my surprise, she responded.

“Okay,” followed by a long pause.

“How are you feeling, Carol? Can you feel your hands and feet?” I asked.

“I … I think so. Yes.”

“Good.”

“Where’s Sally?” She asked with rising urgency.

Obviously Sally was the driver and it was a good sign that Carol was taking her surroundings into account.

“She is talking to some people outside the car,” I told her.

Carol didn’t say much more to me as the ambulance personnel arrived.

“What do we have here?” asked the first ambulance guy on scene.

“An approximately seventeen-year-old female victim of this MVA. Some L.O.C. for a minute or two, but now conscious and responding appropriately. I’ve been holding traction since coming on scene. She claims to be able to feel and move her extremities, though I’ve not witnessed movement of her feet. Arms are moving. Pulse is rapid and strong.”

“You’re not injured?” He asked.

“No sir. Joe Clark, EMT from New York and witness to the crash; just a bystander.”

“OK. Stay put.”

I nodded.

With great speed and efficiency the passenger door was removed, and the car seat moved enough to free Carol’s legs, which she confirmed she could move. A backboard was placed to support Carol’s head and neck and I was dismissed. Before leaving, I gave my name and info to the police and walked back to the apartment. I was greeted by some of my neighbors in the apartment complex, who asked me what had happened. I told them I saw the last half of the accident and had gone to see if anyone was injured.

“Obviously someone’s injured because the ambulance is there,” Kathy from the second floor said.

“Well, yes, but I got there before the ambulance.”

“Were there serious injuries?” Kathy’s husband Steve asked.

“Cuts from broken glass, broken left arm, and maybe a head or neck injury. I’m not really sure.”

“How close did you get to the car?” Kathy asked.

“I got in the car to help.” I said as I showed them the blood on my hands. I excused myself and went back to studying; after washing my hands. I had finals to worry about and tried to not think about Sally and Carol.