Life or Death, Is That the Question? Part 1
(Between Chapters 3 & 4 of 'Jane') After his girlfriend Jane has a flashback of her parents' deaths and he has a series of challenging runs, Johnny philosophizes on the role of the paramedic as a mediator between life and death. Despite first appearances, this story is only tangentially about Jane; I began with her memories to provide context for Johnny's journey. Warning: explicit scenes of death and suicidality.
Dixie had just left with Dr Morton to go back to the Emergency ward. Jane was very tired. It had been a long, eventful day and work would come early tomorrow morning whether she wanted it to or not. She rose from the cafeteria table and went to check in with the French speaking car accident victims M. Côté and his grandson Jacques before heading home. In defiance of protocol, a very wise Dixie had arranged that they would share a room instead of Jacques being put on the pediatric floor, so Jane only had to make the one stop.
Two grateful faces smiled at her as she entered the room. She let them know she was heading home, but said that she would come in early the next morning before work, and if they had any questions or concerns, she would help them get some answers. The grandfather was so grateful for Jane's offer and for a paper to write his questions, that he gestured for her to come over to his bed, and when she was near enough, he kissed her hand fervently. She thanked him, and then went to say goodnight to Jacques. She was very touched when he reached up with his little arms and threw them around her neck, clinging to her. "Puis-je voir ma mère? » he whispered in her ear, and she said that she would find out when he could see his mother first thing when she arrived the next day. She tucked him into his bed, and gave him a kiss on his forehead.
"A bientôt, mon cher." See you soon, dear one.
As she climbed into bed at home, her whole body seemed to dissolve with fatigue into the mattress. Within minutes she was asleep.
…Their car was driving along at a good clip – 60 miles an hour on the highway – when the car in front suddenly came to a complete stop. Jane's father slammed on the brakes, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they halted with a car length between them. He glanced quickly in the rear view and barely had time to register that the driver behind hadn't noticed they were stopped….Bang! The rear car slammed into theirs, and the distance between it and the car in front disappeared. Bang! Into the rear end of that car…then Bang! Another car slammed into the one behind them, forcing that one again into the back, and BANG! Again into the one in front…and then immediately, BANG! BANG! BANG! Yet another car plowed into the other four.
It had taken only seconds. Jane's eyes were full of something that made it hard to see…she wiped them, and looked around, dazed. Her younger sister had somehow gotten lodged partly under the driver's front seat, the middle of her spine pushed up against the edge of the back seat, her arms flung backwards. She looked twisted up, like a rag doll thrown on the floor. She was unconscious but Jane could see her eyelids fluttering. The back of her head was against the metal door handle and there was blood sluggishly oozing around a wound behind her ear. The back end of the car had been pushed forward into the front on her sister's side…Jane's legs were pinched, but she could move.
Jane looked toward the front seat. "Mom? Dad?" She leaned forward as much as she could, and shook her father's shoulder roughly, suddenly terrified. "Daddy?" She was a teenager, but her voice sounded like a small child's. The windshield was shattered, and glass lay everywhere in the front seat. The dash lay in her father's lap, with the steering wheel pressed up against his chest. She could see him breathing. Oh, thank God! But there was so much blood; where was it coming from?…She turned her head to the right, and gasped when she saw her mother.
She started crying, "Oh! Oh! Oh!..." Her mother's eyes were wide open, and she tried to talk to her daughter but no words came out. Her mom's forehead was an unusual colour…almost a light blue, and as she watched, the pink literally drained from her mother's face… now it was her nose turning blue…she could see the fear in her mother's eyes, locked onto her own. Somewhere, her mother's life blood was leaving her body, but Jane couldn't see from where because the blood was everywhere, she couldn't stop it…
They both knew what was happening, and although Jane could hear the faint sound of sirens getting louder, she knew it was too late…Jane reached out and touched her mother's cheek gently. She wanted to beg her not to leave, but she couldn't ...somehow she had to ease that desperate look on her mother's face… "It's okay. You can go," she whispered. She could see her mother was trying desperately to hang on, struggling, so scared. She tried again, with more firmness. "It's all right, Mom. I'll take care of them." Painful sobs wracked Jane's chest, but there were no tears and she maintained eye contact with her mother.
No, no, no, no, no…please…There was a small gurgling noise from somewhere in her mother's chest, and the light went out of her eyes…she knew she was gone, but then a compulsive breath seemed to come from deep inside her mother and Jane was shocked and confused. How could she still be breathing when she had seen her leave? There were no more breaths. The skin underneath her hand subtly changed texture, and became cool and rubbery, unreal…
Someone was there to help them, too late, much too late…arms reaching in, voices saying things she couldn't process, "Miss? Miss, we need to get you out of there, let me help you…"
She just kept shaking her head, No, no…but somehow she was out of the car, someone was carrying her away from her family…No, no…She started to feebly fight against those anonymous arms, staring uncomprehendingly at the car – there were so many cars, so many people on the ground, there was so much smoke and flames seemed to be coming from her parent's car…. "Daddy! Sue! NO!"
She was fighting more vigorously against the arms that constrained her, and tried to stand, but was unable…the world swam crazily and the ground was moving drunkenly…she was on the ground. She had no idea how she got there. Sounds filled the air and swirled about her in eddies of strident screams and mechanical wails. She tried to focus on the face in front of her, but she couldn't make it out. Nothing made sense.
"You're going to be okay. We're taking you to the hospital. It's going to be all right." There was a sudden whoosh of sound and men swore. Noise increased, and there were shouts and smells of burning…acrid and terrible…feet running…she fell away into a dark place that sucked her down, down, down…
She seemed to be lying down and moving. Someone was talking to her, ordering her to stay awake, to answer him, bossy and insistent; she wasn't going to listen to him. "What is your name? C'mon, tell me your name…" She was irritated; couldn't the person see she was too tired to answer? Leave me alone. "No.." she managed to protest weakly, as he pinched at her arm with something. The darkness claimed her again…
She knew she was in bed, but why couldn't she move, and why was the bed bouncing so jerkily? It didn't make sense…Another voice, insisting that she do something. She was rolled onto her side roughly and jerked over to another bed. That wasn't very nice, she thought. "Jane…Jane MacKay! Listen to me! I need you to wake up!" Stop pinching me, she thought. "I can't get a vein on this arm, doctor," a female voice said. Enough! That hurt! "Try the other one. Here give it to me." Another pinch and cold flowing into her arm, the sound of tape ripping. "I think she's going to vomit," said yet another voice. No, I'm not, thought Jane. She fought the gag reflex and nausea…I'll show you…
Another bed, a quieter room. She opened her eyes as the door opened and several doctors came into the room. The oldest man started talking to the younger white coats… "We have here a female, age 18. She was in a MVA yesterday. What can you tell me about her injuries based on her chart and what you see here?"
The young men looked slightly embarrassed as the doctor unceremoniously threw back her top sheet and pointed to the various wounds on her body. "Notice here, here and here. Now what can you tell me?" I am not a piece of meat or a lab specimen! she thought indignantly.
The senior physician turned to one of the scared looking young men and said, "Get a history and meet us back in the lecture room in 15." He looked at Jane without seeing her and said with a pasted smile that quickly came and went and meant nothing, "You're going to be fine." Without another word, without ever having acknowledged Jane at all, he left the room and the other men followed.
The intern sat down on a chair beside her bed, and asked, "What do you remember about the accident?" Jane looked at him in outrage. He wasn't even looking at her. How dare he! She was speechless. When she didn't answer, he checked something off on his clipboard, and then asked, "Have you ever been hospitalized before?" He looked up, saw the look on her face, and had the grace to blush. She said tersely, "I remember enough. I have never been in an accident before."
She stared straight ahead, unable to trust herself to speak without saying something nasty. He got up, looked briefly at his notes, and then parroted, "You're going to be fine." She just shut her eyes and pursed her lips tightly closed. She knew that she would never be fine again. Never….
The alarm clock shrilled beside her bed, insisting that she wake. She pulled herself willfully inch by inch out of sleep, not rested at all. She sat up stiffly and buried her head in her hands. The sounds and smells and images in her mind could not be shaken away. She wasn't really a 24 year old school teacher; she was an 18 year old accident victim who had just lost her family.
Could she face a room full of six year olds' energy today? She had promised to check in with the Côté family at the hospital before work, but it physically hurt to think about going anywhere and doing anything.
The phone rang, and Jane reached over automatically to answer it. "'Lo?" she muttered. She just didn't have the energy or the will to talk to anyone.
"Hey, how's my girl? You sleep okay? I'm just getting off shift and I thought I'd see how your evenin' went, before you took off for work." Oh, Johnny. She smiled despite her malaise.
"Um, actually, I had a bad night. Bad dreams." Bad memories in reality…
"Sorry to hear that. 'Cause of the accident yesterday?"
She had to work to answer him. "I think so."
"Listen, I'm real sorry 'bout that. We just needed someone who knew French, and Cap suggested you. I should'a said no…"
"No, Johnny, it was fine. It's just some, uh, issues from the past that kind of got stirred up…"
"Ah," he got it now, "Your parents."
"Yes. I'd better go; I've got to get ready since I promised M. Côté that I would drop by the hospital before work."
"You sure, feelin' like you do?"
"I promised, John, and I'm going in."
"Okay. How's 'bout this? I meet you there and we get some breakfast together – that is, if you got time before school."
"Um, I think I'm going to call in sick today. I don't think the children should be subjected to me right now. But I have to go to the hospital anyway, so yes, I will meet you there, and I would love to have breakfast with you."
"Great! I'll see you soon." She grinned feebly as she hung up the phone. Already she felt a bit better knowing she would see John soon. Nevertheless, she was still going to call in sick; Mrs. Gumby could take her class today. She could face the hospital, barely - especially since her visit wouldn't take too long and Johnny would be there - but there was no way she could face work.