We walk on them. We measure by them. If you change the spelling, we rate it.
We once went to a call where a lady lost hers.
JB and I were working w/ a short crew, only Conehead as our Captain. The alarm comes in, 'auto accident'. So off we goes, hustling down the road to where the accident is suppose to be. The call was at the post-office down the road from our station.
As we pull up, there are no cars, there is noone around looking in need. So you let your guard down, thinking that it is a false alarm. Oh be prepared, O simple ones.
From the side of the post office, comes a lady, frantic, (but with both feet) telling us the car (over there) is involved.
OK.
From the distance, it looks like NOTHING. Car is not damaged, nothing on fire, nothing outta place.
JB & I go over with trauma bag in hand, to check it out. On the way over, we notice the fence blocking the gas pumps looks a bit askew. Not really noticed. Walk up to the vehicle, and notice that there is a huge amount of blood on the door, on the ground and LEAKING from the inside of the drivers door. Open the door, out dangles a ladies...foot. Held to her ankle by threads. Grab our BP cuff, make an improvised tourniquet, and start asking questions.
Apparently, Mama had driven up to the drive-thru mail box, tried to deposit a letter, and was too far away. So she opened the door, reached out, hit the accelerator, plowed thru a fence, (which fell back almoat perfectly in place) missed the gas pumps by ..inches, and practically svered her foot on the concrete base of the pumps.
So we stabalize her, take vitals, reassure. All she worried about was who was going to pickup her grandkids.
Shock, maybe.
Ass kicking, tough older grandma, more likely.
Believe it or not, 3 months later she and her whole family come by the station.
Her foot re-attached, bringing tons of sweets, manapua, raw fish, and well wishes.
Feats. Everyday there are new ones accomplished.
Matter of fact, I got to go for a surf. Damn sweet. Small, but damn sweet.
Aloha.
4 comments:
So the lesson here, folks, is this: When you pull up to a mailbox or the drive-thru window of a bank or Micky D's, or when you're dropping off a passenger, or whatever,
Put. The. Car. In. PARK.
My ex-hsband failed to do this when dropping the kids off curbside at school a couple of years ago, turned around to kiss the kids with his foot on the brake (or so he thought) and he accellarated, plowing right into the pregnant Spanish teacher. Luckily, nobody was dismembered or sent into premature labor.
Regarding your last comment to my blog, Mark, I hear you loud & clear. Went through a similar scene with my ex-husband's mom. What won't we do for the spouses we love? There's a post for another day! Sheesh!
The charming little prankster grew into the dutiful man of the family, didn't he? Reflects well on Gramma Minnie. Good on ya.
Good on ya both!
PS: Glad you caught a wave :-)
feet are good. hard to fathom existing without 'em. those freak accidents are freaky, man!
Wow. Just never know what to expect from you dude. Heh.
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