Humans are Fragile
A/N: This literally happened about 1 and a half hours ago. Tops. Its all real. It really happened. I'm still freaking out. BUT I'm gonna post it as a fic type of thing. Just because thats the way I wrote it. Its really short. Only about 500 words. So no LJ cut.
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HUMANS ARE FRAGILE
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I saw a man almost die today, no longer than an hour ago. I was the one that called 911 and stayed there while he did stupid stuff and yelled obscenities. The blood pooled in the cracks of the sidewalk and drenched the shirt he was wrapping around his shredded arm. The shirt is still lying there on the bloodied cement. He was intoxicated with alcohol, and god knows what else. He was holding his arm wrong; down instead of up. And putting pressure below the wound, at the wrist, instead of above at the elbow. At times I was sure that he must be pushing the glass further into his arm even though both me and the 911 lady on the phone said not to put direct pressure because pushing the glass in further is only going to make it worse. The glass piece looked like a very short glass stake that was pushed into his upper forearm. His whole arm from elbow to wrist was one long cut and the skin was peeling back and when he put pressure on it the veins would pop out and I can see them without the usual layer of skin to cover them. The blood poured from his arm in streams, even when he was holding it up. He wanted a cigarette. He yelled for one. When I said ‘no’ he asked if I can get his from his pocket. I said ‘no’ again. He swore and let go of his arm so that I would do what he said. Stupid. Threatening me by threatening his own life. So stupid. I didn’t give him one. The police arrived first. They were much better at handling the situation then I could ever be. The made him sit down and held his arm for him and asked him all the right questions. Like ‘What is your name?” I had watch as he slowly became drowsy and flopped around in their arms. Finally the ambulance arrived. It seemed to take forever to get him in it. I know that he was unconscious by then. All that was left where the puddles of blood all the way down the street, from where he got hurt to where he saw me and back to the middle where the police picked him up. Even when he was gone and I was shaking, I still couldn’t go home. I had to give a statement along with the other few people who saw what happened. I got escorted home even though I live right done the street. I couldn’t stop shaking. I’m still shaking as I write this. But it’s helping. Getting it out on paper, or in this case a computer screen, makes it both more and less real. I’m drinking tea. It helps me relax. I can’t help but think, ‘What if’. What if I wasn’t there to call 911. What if I called earlier. Later. What if my phone was dead. What if he hadn’t walked over to me. Would he be dead? Maybe. Probably. Does he have a mother, father, sister, brother? Would they be there for him at the hospital? Would they cry? Does he have a girlfriend? Someone he loves. Will she come? To the hospital. To the funeral? What if it had happened to me? To my mom? My best friend? My boyfriend? What if it had happened to someone you loved? To you? What then...?
__________________________________________________________________________
HUMANS ARE FRAGILE
__________________________________________________________________________
I saw a man almost die today, no longer than an hour ago. I was the one that called 911 and stayed there while he did stupid stuff and yelled obscenities. The blood pooled in the cracks of the sidewalk and drenched the shirt he was wrapping around his shredded arm. The shirt is still lying there on the bloodied cement. He was intoxicated with alcohol, and god knows what else. He was holding his arm wrong; down instead of up. And putting pressure below the wound, at the wrist, instead of above at the elbow. At times I was sure that he must be pushing the glass further into his arm even though both me and the 911 lady on the phone said not to put direct pressure because pushing the glass in further is only going to make it worse. The glass piece looked like a very short glass stake that was pushed into his upper forearm. His whole arm from elbow to wrist was one long cut and the skin was peeling back and when he put pressure on it the veins would pop out and I can see them without the usual layer of skin to cover them. The blood poured from his arm in streams, even when he was holding it up. He wanted a cigarette. He yelled for one. When I said ‘no’ he asked if I can get his from his pocket. I said ‘no’ again. He swore and let go of his arm so that I would do what he said. Stupid. Threatening me by threatening his own life. So stupid. I didn’t give him one. The police arrived first. They were much better at handling the situation then I could ever be. The made him sit down and held his arm for him and asked him all the right questions. Like ‘What is your name?” I had watch as he slowly became drowsy and flopped around in their arms. Finally the ambulance arrived. It seemed to take forever to get him in it. I know that he was unconscious by then. All that was left where the puddles of blood all the way down the street, from where he got hurt to where he saw me and back to the middle where the police picked him up. Even when he was gone and I was shaking, I still couldn’t go home. I had to give a statement along with the other few people who saw what happened. I got escorted home even though I live right done the street. I couldn’t stop shaking. I’m still shaking as I write this. But it’s helping. Getting it out on paper, or in this case a computer screen, makes it both more and less real. I’m drinking tea. It helps me relax. I can’t help but think, ‘What if’. What if I wasn’t there to call 911. What if I called earlier. Later. What if my phone was dead. What if he hadn’t walked over to me. Would he be dead? Maybe. Probably. Does he have a mother, father, sister, brother? Would they be there for him at the hospital? Would they cry? Does he have a girlfriend? Someone he loves. Will she come? To the hospital. To the funeral? What if it had happened to me? To my mom? My best friend? My boyfriend? What if it had happened to someone you loved? To you? What then...?