Good Cheap Wine Guide

The blood on my shirt and on my hands was not my own. I didn’t even notice it until after I’d left the accident scene,  climbed back into my truck , eased back onto the road, flashers still on and glanced down at the wheel. It was a 95 degrees and sunny July afternoon, the kind of humid-hot that makes everything under the sun difficult to touch. I had taken this heavily traveled, normal exit, a 45 MPH downhill ramp off of an interstate onto a side street. But it wasn’t a normal exit today. In front of me, at the side of the road, lay a scooter sideways and twisted. Broken pieces lay scattered around as if it were a Lego toy stepped on by an adult shoe. Next to the wreck lay a good sized guy wearing a white Bell helmet, face down and convulsing. No-one was there! He was alone on the pavement. I swerved my truck over and parked it quickly, set the flasher and ran to the scene. On the way I dialed 911, the operator informed me that police were already on the way. “Good!” I thought, “Someone else has at least seen this.” He looked bad.

As I got to the accident I saw another guy was running to the scene from across the street. We both looked at each other a little uncertain what to do first. The victim was a young man in his late teens or early twenties. Along with the scattered wreck debris I could pick out a broken Ipod, some smashed-up eyeglasses and other small personal affects that been on the driver until the spill. The scooter was piled up about thirty feet further up the road which meant he had fallen off earlier and gone for a ride on his own. It was easy to see that by the abrasions on his legs and his tattered shorts, he had scraped and slid across the pavement a good ways. I knelt down close to his face and let him know that there was help on the way and that we wouldn’t leave him. He was breathing, but rasping heavily. I don’t think he was really conscious at that time or at least unable to comprehend and reply. There was dark blood coming from his mouth and from a ragged gash on his eyebrow.

I felt the heat of the pavement on my own bare knees and thought about his head on the street. I ran back to my truck to get a towel I had in there for my planned workout. As I arrived back he was stirring a little trying to lift his head. I put the towel under him as he lifted up a bit and asked him to stay still. A police car was approaching now. I felt better. Amazing how flashing lights can sometimes upset your stomach and other times calm your fears. The officer let us know that EMTs were on their way. He took charge immediately and started assessing the condition of the accident victim. The other guy who ran to the scene had brought a rain poncho with him. He said, “Let’s give this guy some shade.” Good idea. As the officer tried to talk to the kid we shaded them both best we could with the poncho.

The kid started turning over trying to rise.  He sat up and fell back down with the helmet making a sickeningly loud “crack” on the pavement. We kept telling him to “Stay down.” but he wouldn’t. As he kept sitting up and then “cracking” back to the pavement, I couldn’t stand it. I handed my end of the poncho to another guy who had arrived and wanted to help and  the next time he attempted to sit up, I tried to support him. This I think just encouraged him and as we told him, “Keep the helmet on!”, he started taking it off. As we said, “Stay still!” he rolled to his bloody knees. As we pleaded, “Dude, don’t try to stand.” he struggled to his feet. Again, this was a big boy. He could pretty much do whatever his instincts told him and we could not have stopped him. Admittedly though I was happy to see him moving around even with the concern that he could hurt himself even more in the process.

As the EMTs arrived, he struggled to his feet and took slow, helmetless, staggering steps to the guard-rail dragging all four of us with him for supprt. He almost went head first over the guard-rail but then stopped, turned and sat down. I saw two EMTs putting on their gloves. I don’t know why that registered. The EMTs all wearing their nylon gloves, approached him and took over. I asked the officer if I could go and climbed back in my truck.

As I got back on my way… that’s when I noticed the blood, his not mine.  Our emergency people live daily in contact with other people’s blood. Do they get used to this?  Along with all of the other things going through my head I had just one little gnawing thought in the back of my subconscious. I selfishly hoped the kid led a healthy lifestyle.

By now the workout seemed of secondary significance, besides I had left my towel to be cleaned up I guess with the other debris. I changed directions and headed home.