The wind hits my face causing a sting reaction on my cheeks and I know they must be crimson. I turn my attention away from the totaled motorcycle and direct it to the surrounding area.
My eyes plead to adjust to the night sky, desperate to find him but they're failing me miserably. With phone still in hand, I turn the flashlight on for any excess light but it gives way to no additional visibility.
"I'm here!" I yell out to the stranger not knowing what else to say.
I hear him before I see him, the faintest of agonizing moans. I'm baffled my ears even picked up such a dulled sound. My eyes are drawn towards the wordless plea, forty or so feet away from the shoulder of the interstate lying in a low point of a ditch is where I spot him.
As fast as my legs will move I run to him and kneel at his side.
I need to remain calm, I need to keep my cool and my mind sharp for my sake and most importantly his because what lies beside me is a man on the absolute verge of death.
Being a nurse in a level one trauma center has exposed me to some serious shit that would make the average person vomit over and rightfully so, it can be so fucked up. Every so often I fall victim to the queasiness of what some bodies endure. And right now? Right now is one of those times. I press my hand to my midsection forcing the uneasiness in my stomach to subside.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I assess what's in front of me, a stranger whose life will either now be severely altered or ending.
I hover the flashlight of my phone above his body. Blood trickles down this man's forearm through his shredded black leather jacket exposing an open road rash wound with pellets of asphalt lodged in his skin making itself a new home. Blood is coated and seeping everywhere but what has my attention the most is the bone that has ripped its way through thigh muscles, veins, layers of skin and finally through what I assume is his black jeans. It's clear to me he has broken his femur. Aside from all other injuries, a broken femur alone is life-threatening but this poor man has much more going on than just that, externally he's bad, and internally could be a whole other ball game, a real catastrophe. I am acutely aware his life is just hanging on by a mere thread.
"Sir!" I evenly say out and he moans in response.
"What's your name?" I ask but the only response is, once again, an apparent painful moan.
I don't want to touch him unless absolutely necessary in the case of encouraging paralysis or several other lethal issues lurking within him. I feel helpless right now without a team with me and all of my medical supplies all I can do is wait for the medic's arrival, keep him company to either maintain alertness or be by his side so he doesn't die alone.
I scan the rest of the abrasions, at least four to five are visible. I'm not entirely sure at this point if it even matters that he's got a helmet on with all the injuries his body has sustained. The moaning is becoming less frequent which is freaking me out. I bob my head up to search for any lights of emergency vehicles but nothing as far as the eye can see.
Silent static rings through my ears. The moaning has now stopped and I'm no stranger to what this means, it's go time. I press two of my fingers to his wrist and feel for a pulse.
Nothing.
I know better than to pull off the helmet, risking movement to his neck causing paralysis but as of this moment there's no other choice. I stand up swiftly and kneel down, both legs on either side of his head, and quickly but ever so carefully remove the helmet from his head.
He's beautiful.
Beautifully deceased I remind myself.
I crawl over to his side, straighten his body flatter and straighter, lift his chin upward, and begin CPR. One, two, three, four, five, six…
"Don't you dare die on me!" I yell out to him.
Dammit!
Seven, eight, nine…
CRACK!
Fuck! As if things couldn't get any worse! I broke one of his ribs with the brutal force of compressions.
I finish my second round of thirty compressions and two breaths. I lay my ear to his chest listening for a beat.
Thank fuck!
It's so faint but it's there, faint beats.
My hands, face, hair, and everything in between is painted red with sticky blood now.
He is so far from out of the woods but he's back. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins. This has been the most fucked up five minutes I've had in a while.
I lean back, cool dew from the grass soaking through my periwinkle scrubs, I take a few deep breaths to calm myself while firmly keeping my pointer and middle finger against this strangers wrist, monitoring the faint pulse.
I hear them before I see them, sirens in the distance getting closer and closer, louder and louder, thank the heavens for such a beautiful sound, help is finally making an appearance.