Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Making scents
This does not make sense.
Does not compute.
You have started the voices arguing...
*****
Fear
The unexpected text message. 4 ? dead. explosion.
Dread words. A sudden rush of recrimination - my God. My thoughtlessly defensive self-fulfilling prophecy come true : Singapore is a target too, you're all probably safer in the UK.
It sinks in further. Oh, my God. Mental images of Apocalypse, now, flood my mind. Cars hurling off a shattered bridge, careening wildly into space. Four dead many injured!
Mad rush to phone home. Why isn't anyone picking up the phone??!
Calm yoursef. You have work to do.
****
During the trauma call - young male - so young. Good looking. Pulseless electrical activity (ie, dead) another mad flurry of motion. Co-ordinated chaos. A, B, C. D. E. 2 needles 2nd intercostal space - nothing. Thoracostomy. Nothing.
Another doctor asks me if I clamped the line while injecting the umpteenth adrenaline blus. Teeth and claws bared, the voices slip out from my head: "Yes, I did. I have done this before you know."
Instant regret.
He probably didn't mean to patronise me. It's too late now. The words cannot be unsaid. And to voice my innermost fears now would do little to repair the damage. My belated apology sounds weak, and lame.
There is power in words.
Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hatred.
Welcome to the dark side.
*****
Later : sweet bliss. They finally pick up the phone. My family is safe. And it was all an industrial accident. Construction vs gasline. 1 worker dead, 3 injured.
Overwhelming relief, as my residual fears for friends (and strangers) fade away.
Spare a moment of sadness for the unlucky workers.
Back to ordinary life. ATLS. Work. Study.
This does not make sense.
Does not compute.
You have started the voices arguing...
*****
Fear
The unexpected text message. 4 ? dead. explosion.
Dread words. A sudden rush of recrimination - my God. My thoughtlessly defensive self-fulfilling prophecy come true : Singapore is a target too, you're all probably safer in the UK.
It sinks in further. Oh, my God. Mental images of Apocalypse, now, flood my mind. Cars hurling off a shattered bridge, careening wildly into space. Four dead many injured!
Mad rush to phone home. Why isn't anyone picking up the phone??!
Calm yoursef. You have work to do.
****
During the trauma call - young male - so young. Good looking. Pulseless electrical activity (ie, dead) another mad flurry of motion. Co-ordinated chaos. A, B, C. D. E. 2 needles 2nd intercostal space - nothing. Thoracostomy. Nothing.
Another doctor asks me if I clamped the line while injecting the umpteenth adrenaline blus. Teeth and claws bared, the voices slip out from my head: "Yes, I did. I have done this before you know."
Instant regret.
He probably didn't mean to patronise me. It's too late now. The words cannot be unsaid. And to voice my innermost fears now would do little to repair the damage. My belated apology sounds weak, and lame.
There is power in words.
Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hatred.
Welcome to the dark side.
*****
Later : sweet bliss. They finally pick up the phone. My family is safe. And it was all an industrial accident. Construction vs gasline. 1 worker dead, 3 injured.
Overwhelming relief, as my residual fears for friends (and strangers) fade away.
Spare a moment of sadness for the unlucky workers.
Back to ordinary life. ATLS. Work. Study.
