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Paramedic Stories, Part XXX: Kid Struck By Car! (By Julio Alazraqui, EMT/Paramedic) by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
Wednesday, December 8, 2004
Rated "PG" by the Author.
A paramedic shares one of his most difficult cases he has had to deal with. He still has nightmares about the incident today.
I don't think I shall ever forget the sight of that little broken body lying haphazardly in the street, or the keening wail of a distraught mother as long as I shall live. It has been three years since this incident happened, but I still have horrible nightmares about this incident, and I still can't get through a day without bawling my eyes out, especially if the person happens to be a little child.
I was new then to the Nashville Fire and Rescue Department: a cocky-headed young maverick who thought that he was invincible, that any person he helped could be saved, that death would never touch him--or his patients. I was a tough-headed kid who had been in trouble with the law, and I thought that I was cool stuff; but then came that day--and the call--that would ultimately change my life forever.
It was a beautiful, late summer evening here in Nashville: we had just seen one of the prettiest sunsets, the kind where the entire sky is ablaze in color, and the first of the stars just starting to appear in the darkening skies. We were enjoying a picnic with co-workers and friends at the fire station when the tones sounded. It was a pedestrian call: a child had just been hit by a car, and it appeared that the kid had been badly injured: she was lying in the road, not moving, looking more dead than alive, her body broken and bleeding profusely.
We immediately got into our rescue truck and hightailed it to the scene. The firetrucks and several ambulances were already on the scene; and one of the firemen came up to me and said, "It's bad. A little kid was struck by a car, and it appears that she is dying. We have to act fast if she is to have any chance of survival."
We made our way to the child still lying on the ground. She was lying on her side, and her little face was a dark, dusky blue. Her breathing was gasping and labored, and as she breathed, blood bubbled forth from her nostrils and mouth. Her small limbs were splayed in all directions, and her body was covered in dirt and blood. She couldn't have been more than three years old at the most. At the sight of this badly injured child, my heart sank, and somehow I knew deep down inside that she didn't have much of a chance, short of a miracle or something.
We started resuscitative measures, to try to help the child's labored breathing, and we C-collared her and put her on a back board, taking extra precaution as to not to move her unnecessarily, so we wouldn't cause spinal or brain damage and render the kid a permanent trip into a wheelchair; and we started an I.V. line into one tiny arm and put EKG leads on her and hooked her up to the heart monitor. We knew we had to get her to the hospital as soon as possible: the kid was in profound shock, and her vital signs were erratic at best. It was evident that it wouldn't be long before she would crash and burn right in front of our very eyes.
We got her back into the ambulance, and we took off, screaming into the night, racing towards the nearest hospital, which was Nashville Mem (Nashville Memorial). We tried everything to save this tiny little lady's life; but on the way to the hospital, she arrested, and she was now without pulse, without breath. We immediately sank a pediatric-sized ET (endotracheal) airway tube down her small throat, and we attached an Ambu (breathing) bag to it and immediately started CPR to try to bring her back; but she never moved, no, not once. She never even woke up or was even aware of what was going on or what was happening to her.
At the hospital, the E.R. team worked their asses off to try to save this little one, but to no avail. She died despite resuscitative measures, and nothing could be done. She was now with Jesus, and I was now left with the grim task of telling her still-distraught parents the news that their little angel had just died.
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Ever since, I can't sleep well: I still hear the mother screaming at the sight of her bloody, broken little girl lying haphazardly in the street, and I still see the sight of the small body as we poked, stabbed, and pounded on her in our efforts to bring her back; and now, whenever I deal with children, ANY child, I can't help but think back to this tragic little girl who died despite our best efforts to save her.
Karen you tell a powerful tale with graphic descriptions
that tear the heart to shreds. this is an awesome story
and yuour medical knowledge makes it so professional
you have become an excelleant first class write. Love, Eileen
What a terribly sad & tragic story ... time to count one's blessings & get rid of excuse-itis!! A profoundly strong and exceptionally written story - thanks so much for sharing, my friend!!
((((Karen))))
As always a powerful excellent write
God Bless
Michelle~
Reviewed by Judy Lloyd
12/8/2004
Yes losing a child like that is very traumatic and you never forget any of them. It has been close to forty years but I have not forgotten the first child that died in my arms when I was young and like the paramedic. You never get used to it no matter how many times it happens.
awesome write Karen. If it weren't for Karla having insider information everytime you post, I'd get to say I was a cheetah. Please reply to my email ASAP, it's important to me.
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I don't think I shall ever forget the sight of that little broken body lying haphazardly in the street, or the keening wail of a distraught mother as long as I shall live. It has been three years since this incident happened, but I still have horrible nightmares about this incident, and I still can't get through a day without bawling my eyes out, especially if the person happens to be a little child.
