Vol 44: One more day
At 1am my patient receives a phone call from the police. There’s been another car accident. He kisses his wife goodbye, puts on his overalls and grabs his work bag in the garage. Within 10 minutes he arrives at the scene, tonight; and often times, before the ambulance on call. The road is blocked by at least four police cars and the glare from their flashing siren lights pierces his cornea in the darkness of the hour. After almost 40 years in this profession, he’ll never be fully comfortable with the nightmarish feeling that a night like this elicits.
My patient, hereafter referred to as Mike, is a tow truck driver. He’s one of the few men responsible for towing vehicles that have just been involved in accidents, securing them appropriately for legal analysis later. Quite often, however, he’s called to do much more. On the night in question, he wades through the broken glass that blankets the road. As he approaches the vehicle, he hears a groan. Protocol dictates that he wait for the ambulance to arrive but the car flipped over and the steering wheel is now so deeply lodged into the victim’s stomach and upper torso that it's likely his ribs are crushed. Mike suspects, based on the severity of the crash, that at least one of his vital organs is severely, and quite possibly fatally, injured.
The driver was alone in the car, desperately struggling to breathe. There’s blood everywhere. Mike approaches the vehicle with a police colleague. The inside of the car smells of alcohol, cologne and car freshener. The same freshener and cologne that Mike uses, which is why it was so readily distinguishable. They do their best to assure him that help is on the way. As the other police officers work to secure the scene and attempt to notify the victim’s emergency contact, Mike stays with him. His lungs begin to collapse and as his breaths become shallower, Mike holds his hand and begins to pray.
The experience is surreal. Holding a stranger’s hand during his darkest hour and asking God to keep him safe. In a time like this, it’s the only thing that Mike feels equipped to offer. The driver, a young male with his entire life still before him, uses what could be his last breaths and final words on this earth to express regret for not being a better son, a better brother and a better friend. His previous bucket-list desires now seem so frivolous.
All he wants is just one more day to apologize for not supporting those closest to him, for not showing the love he knew he should have. He always figured there was time later. A powerful sense of helplessness envelops both of them and, amidst this audience of strangers, they both quietly begin to cry.
As the ambulance arrives and Mike pulls away from the scene, he takes more than another mashed car and the memory of a mangled man with him. He didn’t know then whether the victim would survive but he knew that his sharing deep emotions and shedding silent tears filled his soul with meaning. He hopes that if the victim survives, the experience will change him and, in some way, enrich his life by making it more purpose-driven.
Many people struggle to find their purpose and go their entire lives without truly realizing their full potential. The result can be an almost overwhelming sense of frustration and personal dissatisfaction. That, in turn, manifests itself in unwarranted displays of anger or even jealousy. This is particularly true when that individual feels imprisoned by an environment where their differences and perceived attributes go unanimously uncelebrated.
But there are others who are often asked to do things that they never signed up for and do it anyway, seamlessly transitioning into their life’s calling. The harshest circumstances always have a way of revealing who we really are.
Throughout social media earlier this year, nurses all over the globe began sharing their experiences with patients who were dying and what their final thoughts were. In the majority of cases, their patients spoke about their loved ones, those they’ll leave behind and those they hope to reunite with in the afterlife. Others express their greatest regrets in feeling like they’ve wasted their life never living up to their true potential and with no conceivable opportunity to course correct. Many regret not taking better care of their health. Most, if not all, are sad for not spending more time with the people they love, the people who make them feel loved and supported and not saying to those individuals often enough how much they matter.
In our final moments, I hope that we as human beings have the benefit of clarity and a true understanding about what was and is important in life. Mike understands this well and as the emergency medical technicians approach, he steps aside as they assess the patient. He then assists when asked to help extricate the jammed car door off its crushed hinges for easier access to the victim. After the ambulance leaves, he calls his son over to help strap the car wreckage. They flip it over and eventually get it towed, some two hours after they first arrived on the scene.
The drive back home is quiet. Mike uses the time to thank God for his blessings and to ask for the continued grace and protection of his family. At the next car accident that he’s called to, he’ll enquire about the fate of the man whose hand he held tonight. For now he chooses to believe that he survived as the fear of the alternative prevents him from asking sooner. This way, for just a little longer, he’s able to keep the memory of the moment alive.
Mike wonders how doctors, nurses and police officers can cope with this on a daily basis. He salutes them for collectively carrying this heavy cross and being the persons that we can call upon in our time of need. He also understands all too well now why a former minister of transport in The Bahamas dedicated himself to road safety. As a former police officer, he brought with him to his Cabinet post the memory of too many mangled bodies and crushed lives.
Beyond that, every day, Mike chooses to be grateful because on his deathbed he never wants to be in a position hoping for one more day of life to express the feelings that he rarely shared when there was time.
He’s grateful for his family, his health and his job. He laughs often, hugs with his whole heart and says I love you with the strength of character reserved for those who perpetually exhibit the best of humanity. He does this because over the years if there’s anything he’s learned, it’s that no day is promised and everything he loves could all be gone tomorrow.
This is The KDK Report.
