I'm so tired, it's ridiculous. It's 5:03 AM. Imagine, however, that I was also tired at 2:53 AM when I was approaching the exit from 66 to go home. I tell myself that I will be home in less than 10 minutes, so just stay awake, concentrate, and enjoy the soft warm bed soon enough.
Visions and Oneness
I dropped my friend off at 2:20, and the entire way home, I was so tired I had to bite my wrists and forearms to stay awake. (This works VERY well!) But, I was so tired that even staying awake, I kept hallucinating. I kept feeling my body slipping away--not trying to slip away, but fall off or into something else. It was so strange. I hate hallucinating... anyway, my hallucinations involved me seeing huge biped creatures in the distance walking in or across the street. I won't even bother trying to explain how strange and scary this is, but imagine 15 foot Sasquatch dragging a club and walking across 66 in the distance. It's almost 3 in the morning and you've been awake for almost 24 hours. This happened from the time I was still in DC until I was about a mile away from home (over 30 minutes later.) As I turned into my subdivision, the vision returned.
I saw a creature walking slowly, zombie like, in the street. It was only a few feet away, and as I slowed down my driving, I realized that it was a real person. What the hell was he doing in the street? Behind him sat a totaled car wrapped around a tree. Funny how all your self-preservation instincts go out the window when someone else is in trouble. I rolled down the window, to ask him if the guy needed help, from the safety of my car, but even as I did so, I pulled over behind him, turned on my flashers, and got out to talk. I asked if he needed someone to call 911 since there were no emergency responders around. He said he did. The guy looked scared as shit, but definitely not drunk or belligerent. I guess I subconsciously knew this because I didn't hesitate to open my phone to call as I also opened my trunk and searched for a first aid kit. I was shaking so much, I felt enclosed by an entire cloud of sleep-deprived adrenaline. The one where your consciousness has all but shut down, the physical body is being animated by competing neurotransmitters and the mental body by the subconscious mind. God knows where emotional, spiritual, social bodies went... fair-weather friends. ;)
As I was calling, I was surprised to NOT hear my voice in my head as I spoke. It was like my lips were moving and communicating information with the 911 responder, but I had no idea what they were saying. In fact, when I first held the phone to my ear, I almost panicked that no one was answering before realizing I hadn't activated the phone application and dialed 911. I did it. Fumbling through the first aid kit on the ground to find gloves, the responder actually said, "Hello" to me 3 times before I realized someone was there on the line, that they were talking to me, and that it was my cue to answer. Amazingly, I gave an incredibly accurate description of the location. I continued to fumble with the gauze pads. The poor guy was sitting on the ground talking to his dad on the phone, scared shitless. I was scared for him, though the obvious extent of his injuries was the huge gash on his right knee. Fumble, fumble fumble. Fucken gauze pads. I think I broke the disposable ice pack trying to activate it. I asked the guy if I had permission to help him, though I was already crouching on the ground next to him, opening the kit and not paying enough attention to him to wait for a response. The responder asked me to ask him if he had any stomach or chest pain. He said he did where the seat belt caught him, but other than that, no. (And, BTW, thank GOD he was wearing the seatbelt. There is no amount of first aid kit in my trunk that would have helped him had he not been!!! So kiddies and adults alike, FUCKEN BUCKLE YOUR SEATBELTS!)
I wipe the blood that had dripped down his leg... there wasn't a lot, but the gash was deep and will definitely require stitches. The first gauze pad was comically thin, so I added the abdominal gauze pad on top. Perfecto! I held pressure until the paramedics arrived. The second set, since the first set was on their way to another accident further down the road but stopped to make sure that the guy I was with didn't have any life-threatening injuries. I'm glad they remembered the correct questions to ask because, between him talking to his dad on the phone and me shaking and waging a holy war against the sterile gauze pad packaging (who would have though tearing a fucken PAPER packet open would be so difficult) with no conscious facilities, I sure as hell wasn't gonna notice that he was missing a limb, his heart laying next to us(talking, no less!)or that his neck was broken in half, or something else painfully obvious. Fortunately, none of these things happened. Anyway, the po-po and the paramedics arrived, and I was surrounded by a dozen 30 to 50-something year old white dudes in the middle of the night... (Deja vu?)
The car was FUCKED UP! I mean, the poor guy! As it turns out, he was returning home from dropping off a friend and he fell asleep driving. (It was, after all, 3 in the morning!) His car hit the curb and did at least a 90 degree (and possibly a 450 degree, if done twice) spin around a tree. Ack! He hadn't been drinking... he was too scared and sober to lie about what happened. But he remembered driving, then he remember waking up with horrifying pain in his right leg and his car on the opposite side of the road. (Not his words.) At some point before the responders arrived, the operator I'd been talking to on the phone hung up. I don't remember when, I just know we asked me about the seatbelt thing, asked for something and I said the address again, which was the wrong answer apparently. I think the right one was my name and phone number. Anyway, responders arrived, took over, EMTs secured his neck and back to a board on the stretcher, police looked around the scene trying to piece together what happened, and I just kinda sat there in my car since I couldn't get around any of the vehicles at this point. I picked up my phone to call my mom and let her know what happened, or to play bejeweled, or send a text to my friend whom I'd dropped off earlier... and my phone died instantly. Had it died 10 minutes earlier, or with just a few more functions like another text message or so earlier in the evening, I wouldn't have been able to call 911. Weird how things work out, huh?
Anyway, the kid's dad came (sorry, I should say that the guy was probably about 19 years old... and I'm calling him a kid, even though he's only 5 years younger. Hehe.) The dad followed the ambulance to the hospital. I don't think he saw me at all the whole time. Funny how I just disappear sometimes. The po-po got my information. Had I not been so scared when they asked for it, I'd have said something like, "Go ask Officer So-and-So in This-and-That county... or 50 other of your cop friends. I've been pulled over enough times, I'm sure ONE of them has my data!" Anyway... free to go. Me, sleepy to the point of hallucinating, had been on scene for 30 minutes.
I got home and told mom, "You'll never believe where I just spent the last half an hour: doing first aid at the scene of a car accident a mile away from the house." I guess I felt proud because I know some people will just drive past, assuming that responders have already been called, afraid that the person involved might be some sociopath, or just not wanting to be bothered with being obligated to someone for a period of time--however brief. But, the more I think about it, the less proud I feel. Feeling proud should come from doing something extraordinary, in my opinion. Helping out a fellow living creature is NOT extraordinary in most circumstances. It's something that, if done more often, would lead to a much happier, less fucked up world.
I FINALLY got home, and approaching the door I see a bug moving on the porch. I stepped over it, not wanting to look at it (because if you look at it, you have to acknowledge it's form and the fear it incites within, which I would have rather not done.) I turned around anyway, and saw a beetle on it's back, it's legs desperately waving in the air to either grab onto something with which to leverage itself up, to flip itself over, or to get my attention. Only the latter worked. I bent down and flipped it over with my house key. I left before it could walk any closer to me. Fear, yes, but even that doesn't excuse us from our duty to other living beings.
Locking the front door and walking over to my mother to tell her the story of the evening, I was reminded of a verse, "i have abused my so-called power forgive me/ you mean we actually are all one/one one one one one one one."
-One, by Alanis Morissette
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