On the way to the Hospital today, an SUV was crashed alongside the freeway entrance. It looked completely wrecked. And sure enough, when I got to the ED, the first patient I was asked to do an EKG on was that trauma patient. I couldn't help but read over the chart notes, "Passenger dead at scene." The patient escaped with broken ribs and broken limbs, but did they know? Did they know what had happened? How does one live through that guilt?
Something in me snapped.
From the CPR incident the other day, to recent heartaches and emotional toil...I just started bawling in the ED. In two and a half years at The Hospital, I'd only teared up once on the job, but never spilled a single tear. I've always thought that I was so strong, so composed, so immune to tragedies. But I've honestly never known heartbreak as wearisome as that from the ED.
My friend and co-lead S took me outside to the ambulance bay. We sat on the sidewalk in the warm sunlight for over an hour, part in silence, part me noisily crying, part hiccuping and trying to talk about other things.
After I calmed down, S encouraged me to go home. But instead, I went to the Office and did some work. Then I checked my email, and a sad note said a classmate of mine died in a boating accident just a few days ago. He drowned trying to help other stranded boaters. I remember that the day of our microbiology midterm, he was struck by a car while riding his bike. He took the test anyway, bruised and bleeding. He always had such a good spirit, fun-loving and tenacious. He waited years to marry his college sweetheart just a month ago.
I went home and crawled into bed. Oh Lord, give me strength and hope.
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