Fog, Booze, and a Train...

Recently I was witness to quite possibly the worst accident scene I have ever been on. I have seen a lot in my time in EMS and the Army. Recently we went to a call for a pedestrian struck by a train. It was extremely foggy, making the normal 4-6 minute response time to this location an agonizingly long 12 minutes. We walked the 1/4 mile of track to about 1/3 of the length of the train to find a poor guy who had apparently used the rail of the track as a pillow. It took this poor guy's face off. I hope he didn't wake up to see his end coming. Little pieces of him we scattered about over the area. Pieces of him were frozen to the rail of the track. So we waited for the coroner and helped bag up this guy and his pieces. His arm came off, it knocked his shoes off and ripped off his jacket and shirt and he tumbled about 35 feet from where the train hit him. We found his face laying on the gravel, he still had most of his bone structure there with the teeth. It was like he was smiling at us from the ground. I hear he was a father of 2. I have a little more respect for death everyday seems like. I can't count how many people I have seen take their last breath or shortly thereafter. Death is not pretty. I have yet to see someone go quitely after an illness like in the movies. Or give famous last words to quote them by from a bad trauma. Most people beg, cry, and/or struggle to keep going. Even the ones who are prepared for it to come. Except kids, they just kind of stop. Some will get very clear before they go and tell you something that gets burned into your memory forever. Like how very scared they are. And you just tell them that you're there, knowing that there is absolutely nothing more you can do for them. Or you can pray with them, but sometimes you wonder if it even helps. I have seen screaming mother's crying for their babies trapped in a burning building. I have held grieving family members after a breathed for their loved ones. I have pumped a dying grandmother's chest hoping to see some sort of change, only to shake her son's hand minutes later and be told thank you. I have scraped little pieces of brain from the soul of my boot. I have felt a car on the interstate driving to fast and close to our accident scene strike my coat and not slow down. I have done all this and more, I lose no sleep, my family deals with my abrupt mood changes. But I do it every third day and sometimes more. I do it because one of these we'll get there quick enough, do everything right and someone will get to go home from the hospital. Maybe one day it will be you.