When the tables turn.

It was a sunny winter day where the sunlight bore down on the snow and bounced off of it to glare straight into your eye. The kind of day that tricks you into thinking that it is relatively warm from the brightness of the sun when in reality it is cold enough outside to make a polar bear shiver. It was a happy day. The day was winding down and staring out the window was all there was left to do. You could feel the anticipation in the air as the classroom buzzed with talk of plans for the weekend.

The ringing of the bell signaled our freedom and we poured into the hallway amongst the sound of lockers slamming and coats zipping. I braced myself against the chill as I opened the door to my two day break from homework and ridicule. Will and I bantered back and forth, trying to one up the other with our juvenile jokes. We jumped into the waiting warmth as I relayed the tales of the day. Gossip was shared, teachers were mocked and I was smiling.

My arms flailed over the dash as my tongue danced in my mouth with the stories were tumbling out. We were all laughing and smiling.

My ears filled with the deafening sound of rubber being scrubbed along the rough pavement, metal crushing under the force bending against its will. A sickening thud resounded in my ears and ended the screeching. I desperately grasped at the dash and blinked.



There was silence was drowning out the ringing in my ears. It was hot, too hot. I squinted to make my eyes focus on what was around me, shaking my head to break up the fog that had taken over. I looked down as saw Will's can of root beer laying on it's side spilling the remnants. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I couldn't move. I started sobbing.

I called back to Will, the fear and desperation palpable in the air. The words "I'm okay" were the sweetest I had ever heard. I closed my eyes and tried again to focus, to wrap my mind around what had happened. I realized I was stuck; pinned to the dash. I looked to the left and saw his eyes and felt the hot, sticky pain clouding my vision. My heart started racing and my stomach begged to rid itself of my lunch. If I could just have one minute to think, to remember...

There were voices now. Some familiar and some I didn't know. There was a new screech as the colors danced across the windshield.

Of course I knew what day it was. I was going to be late for work. I remember everything, I think. No, it doesn't hurt. Maybe my hip? I don't know... My head was spinning and I wasn't sure if I was answering correctly. No one would tell me where Will was despite my frequent requests. Then I heard him, telling me I was okay, that it would be okay he was there. The tears pooled in my ears, further obstructing my hearing and thoughts. Everyone was talking, but not to me. I was alone in a crowd of unknown faces.

The eyes peered down at me and flitted away to the unknown. I was cold again. So cold I was shivering. It hurt to shake and it hurt more to try and stop it. I was held captive by straps and my own muscles. I could feel my throat getting tight my eyes held shut tightly. They wanted me to open my eyes, they demanded, but I refused. I could feel the shards of glass weighing down on my lids. I was not going to let them in. It felt like my heart had been transplanted into my forehead and there it beat with enthusiasm, bringing a stinging pain along with it.

They tightened the strap across my forehead and I cried out as I felt the angry little pieces burrow deeper into my skin. I laid there in agony, shivering so much, my muscles started burning. The tears began rolling down my cheeks, pooling in my ears, making the commotion around me waver in and out. I felt alone and scared. I couldn't open my eyes and even though the small little box was filled with people, I might as well have been lying there by myself.

At first my voice was small and weak. Slowly it turned frantic and wild. I was cold. Very cold. The shivering was now painful and I felt like I couldn't breathe. The sobs and shivers were at war to see which would overtake me. I was reassured by a gruff voice, "You're fine. Quit freaking out." I laid and cried silently as the ambulance lurched forward, causing the strap on my forehead slowly grind the tiny shards of glass deeper.

I contemplated how stupid I was, I scolded myself for being so dumb. I told myself I deserved this. I prepared myself for the biting words I was certain would eventually come from my father, as soon as they returned from Florida. All I wanted was someone to tell me it was going to be okay. Visions of my scarred and deformed face danced in my mind. I was prepared to be an outcast and to be ugly for the rest of my life. I braced myself for the inevitable.

The ambulance came to a stop and I heard movement and talking, but rarely to me. I counted the steady pulse of my forehead, trying to distract myself from the loneliness. The cot came to a sudden stop and my whole body shifted, sending searing pain and a new trickle of blood down my temple. I heard giggles and some comment about a wall. They adjusted the cot and we were on our way again.

I heard the report between the nurse and the EMT. Apparently they thought as highly as me as I thought of them. I asked where Will was and no one answered me. I asked again, this time shouting. I wasn't going to be ignored anymore. I was still cold, I was exhausted and I was getting mad. Finally, that familiar hand grabbed mine. Will reassured me, he wiped the tears from my cheek and told me I would be okay. He was there and he was going to take care of me. I told him I was so cold and he promised to come back. I heard him outside the room asking the nurse for a warm blanket. He layed the thin sheet over me and tucked it in at the sides. He held my hands in between his trying to keep me warm. I told him I was still cold and when he asked for another blanket, the nurse reported that she thought I was fine and didn't need another one. Silence followed except the creek of well worn hinges groaning as they were flexed. I felt the weight of warm blankets cover me, one by one. Apparently Will had taken it upon himself to empty the warmer of all it's contents and lay them across me.

The nurse returned to chastise Will. How dare he?! She then turned her angst on me. She berated me on the stupidity of being unbelted and instructed me of the guilt I should feel as this was solely my doing. She gruffly swabbed my forehead with a cold towel and told me to open my eyes. I refused and she got angrier. I told her I could feel glass on my eyelids and I was scared they would get in my eye. She ran the towel across my face and I could feel my skin being scratched even more. I couldn't take it anymore. I got angry but couldn't articulate through the sobs. With a sigh of disgust, I hear the squeak of a defiant shoe an then more silence. I decided I would prefer the silence to the biting words of an angry unsympathetic nurse. Somewhere in the distance I could hear the tail ends of a different lecture, this time it was a man that was doing the lecturing.

The clanging of metal and creak of leather accompanied the next pair of squeaky shoes. The sink ran and the washrag was twisted. A deep, soothing voice calmed my sobbing as a rough hand gently held mine. The other dabbed about my face. It was the same voice that I heard moments ago. After some care to my eyes, the calm voice coaxed them open. The room was bright and it hurt at first. The ceiling tiles ran above me and the white walls reflected the glare. A brown shirt and shining star appeared above me as well as a round smiling face. Gently he informed me that Will had been sent to the waiting room and that he had a single scratch on his shin that was now bandaged. I was issued my citation for the lack of a seat belt and I was told my new nurse would be in shortly and he had filed a complaint on my behalf due to the behavior of the previous nurse. For the first time, the shivering stopped.

I could hear the hustle and bustle outside the door of my room. I actually smiled when I heard that the waiting room was full of people that were waiting to see me. My new nurse came in and clucked and cooed as she gently removed the strap from my forehead. She replaced the now cool blankets with ones that were fresh from the warmer. She assured me that she had spoken directly with my parents in Florida and that they had consented to the x-rays of my wrist and hip. The doc came in and poked, prodded and quizzed. I was deemed well enough to sit up and be removed from my restraints. It took three attempts, but I was finally resting as comfortably as possible. I could hear Rick in the hallway, demanding to see me. When his face appeared in the doorway I could tell he was trying not to look horrified, but I could tell. My cousin Ray was behind him and they both looked as though they had seen a ghost. I knew then that it was bad. Really bad. They each gave me a hug and a strained smile before I was wheeled out for x-rays.

My aunt and uncle each held a hand as the doctor did his best to free my skin of the tiny shards of glass. More reinforcements in form of the 5' fiery storm known as Claudia were called in to convince me of stitches. After 45 minutes of a new form of torture known as glass removal, I had had enough. I just wanted to go home and try to forget what had happened. I was awarded my $10 seatbelt ticket and a brace for my wrist and an agonizing ride home.

I held it together until it came time to shower. With one good hand and spells of nausea and dizziness, I strained to remove my blood soaked clothes. I gingerly washed my hair and cried out in horror as a thick pelt of my hair circled towards the drain. I gave up and sat on the shower floor and cried. I surrendered to the guilt, the pain and the mutilation. I resigned to being disfigured for the rest of my life.





I spent the next year of my life dodging pictures, keeping long bangs and wearing hats low to cover my face. I am happy to say that after 8 years, I hardly notice my scars and even less frequently strangers comment.

I have to say that my experience as a patient in the ambulance, but more as a frightened kid definitely shapes who I am as an EMT today. I hold hands, reserve judgment, forgo lectures and dry tears, because sometimes, a little caring is the best medicine we can give.