My girl NinjaMedic wrote recently about her Shadows… I think most of us have those shadows. Those memories of patients, those people. Young, old, sometimes in-between who leave their mark on you forever.
You never forget them.
She was 13-years-old with beautiful red curly hair that people would pay money to have. I know, because I’m one of them. When I first saw her she was curled up in the fetal position on the couch sucking oxygen from a NRB. Her eyes were closed. The living room was trashed. Pizza boxes and beer bottles littered the floor. Two of the pictures that hung on the wall were now laying on the floor, the glass broken and scattered around it.
Then it hit me. There were no adults here, the place was trashed, and we had a minor on the couch on oxygen.
What in the hell is going on.
“Uhm, so what’s going on?” Pseudo Dad was clearly reading my mind. Typically we get a heads up before we enter the house. This night there was no FF outside to meet us and give us that information.
“Well… We’re not really sure,” the FF admitted sheepishly. “She’s not talking. We got the call from TPD as a 911 hang-up. She was having a fit when we got here, so Jeff threw on the O2. Medics checked her out, but they had a code called in, so…”
I blinked. “So… ” I started.
“So She’s yours.” He motioned to our young patient.
I could hear PD asking the Firefighter what exactly was meant by the term “fit”. I could see tears escaping her closed eyelids. They rolled down her overly blushed cheeks and landed on the blue pillow beneath her head and mass of red hair. I knelt down next to the couch and very calmly addressed her. “What’s your name?”
“Ashley.” She whispered back, her voice cracking. The room went silent when she spoke.
“Ashley, I’m Epi, I’m with EMS. What’s going on tonight? What happened?”
She opened her eyes. “Can you get rid of the guys?”
My stomach dropped instantly. I motioned for the males in the room (everyone but myself) to move closer to the door so that we’d have some privacy.
“Talk to me honey,” I started, my hand on her arm.
**********
While I’ve pretty much bared my soul on this blog for everyone to read, I can’t and won’t share what she told me that night. Even using pseudonames, changing details and locations and partners. There are just some things that I can’t talk about.
She exists, however. And I’ll never forget her.
Poor Thing. Both of you.
The horror that some of our youngest go through all by themselves is terrible.
We all have these stories. Cataloged deep into the nightmare bank.
Sad. Worst part is from your description of the scene, I already have a strong idea of what happened and unfortunately I think I am probably right.
Oh God!……..sheesh.
Hugs Epi! And to the girl too…
In a perfect world, none of us would have those shadows.
However the world isn’t perfect and won’t ever be perfect (no matter what those who worship at the altar of Obama say) and I’m glad I’m not the only one who has shadows that won’t go away.
Thank you for this.
I believe that it keeps us strong to remember these Shadows, to never forget the impression that they make on us. Keep being strong, just being there made a difference.
You are so right, Epi. After twenty years of hospital work, and twelve years of retirement….there are still people in my memory bank that were stored there twenty-five years ago and are as fresh as yesterday. There are certain types of people who go into the “care” business, I think they are blessed with compassion and cursed with long memories.
A lil piece of me died reading this.
I’m so sorry for her.
(BIG HUGZ)
yeah. I know exactly what you mean. About 3 weeks ago I had the same sort of patient. There are some patients that when you drop them off, you feel like you did a good job, and you can walk away. And there are some that will haunt you forever, and you feel like no matter what you did, it was never even close to enough.