Making A Difference

I gained a new respect for first responders last weekend. I took for granted that fire fighters faced fires and put them out. They have all the necessary equipment and training, so they go in and do their job – they put out fires.

Todd, Bill, Joe, Mike, and I spent Saturday in and around Hope, Indiana, – think corn country – participating in a charity bicycle ride to raise money for the local Hope food bank. Our day wrapped up around 4:30PM. And after a shower in the high school, we packed up our bikes and hit the road, squeezing all five of us and three bikes into a Honda Odyssey. The other two bikes hung on a rack off the back.

We traveled along route 46 between Hope and Greensburg when Todd, who was driving, let out something like, “Oh my God.” The rest of us, tired as we were, looked forward in time to see the Toyota pickup truck in front of us collide head on at 60 mph with a Mercury that had drifted into our lane. The force of the impact hurled the pickup sideways and onto the shoulder. The engine compartment caught fire.

I said, “Do we stop?” A resounding “Yes” brought our van to a halt and the five of us jumped out. “Call 911!” No freaking signal. Thank God someone else had a signal. The order of events is unclear to me after we jumped out. Todd ran to the woman in the Mercury. No pulse. We all ran to the Toyota. Two guys inside in pretty bad shape. Lots of smoke especially around the driver. How to get the doors open? I don’t think we ever figured out how the doors actually opened, but Bill said that the locks just popped up. Get the seat belts off them. Back away and get some air so that we can go back again.

At this point I’m thinking, “what if this thing explodes? I can barely stay in the smoke a few seconds, how is this guy still alive and moving around?” He’s been breathing it in for two minutes. Another guy joined our efforts to free these two guys. Geez, the impact crumpled the dash of the car around both their feet. Can’t we catch a break? Out of the smoke again to catch a breath. The fire starts to move into the passenger compartment. Somehow the driver is lucid enough to uncross his own feet. Todd and Joe drag him out the window and carry him a safe distance from the truck. Bill and another guy splash water and Gatorade on the fire near the passenger’s feet trying to buy a few more seconds. That did it. His feet were freed, and a number of us carried the passenger away from the vehicle. In two more minutes flames engulf the Toyota.

The driver understood what happened. He gave us his wife’s phone number and we called her. The passenger didn’t seem to understand anything that had just happened. We tried to stabilize his head. We put pressure on an open gash on his forehead. His abdomen seemed distended and badly bruised. He called out over and over again, “What happened?!” and “I’m scared. I’m scared.” He did not seem to hear our desperate attempts to comfort him. I swallowed hard wondering if we might lose him right there in our arms.

The paramedics and fire department arrived next. The paramedics transitioned care away from us. After we helped roll the badly injured men onto backboards, we carried them down the median and placed them on gurneys. The emergency crews rolled them into waiting ambulances. The police officers covered the woman in the Mercury with a sheet.

Todd saw everything and completed a police report. After the fact, a woman who had passed the Mercury in the moment before the accident said that the driver had slumped over in her seat. She may have fallen asleep or even had a heart attack, which may have been the cause of her drifting.

The bottom line is that, despite our efforts, we left the scene with more questions than answers. And now, a few days later, that is the part that is difficult to live with. We felt, deep down inside, less than adequate. Why on earth would I question whether or not we should stop and help? These guys were badly injured and we were pulling on them like rubber bands to get them out of the burning truck. In tears, Todd questioned his own actions, “We had to get them out. They would have died.” The balance of our own safety, our families, vs risking our lives to get these guys out. The questions bounce around like a racquetball inside our heads – on and on and on.

From another perspective, the guys in the Toyota saved our lives. If they had not been in front of us, the five of us would have been the victims. We owed them our lives.

I called Todd on Sunday to see how he was doing. He said an officer called him to get more details. He said we saved their lives. Todd asked about the guys. The ambulances transported them to the local hospital where they were airlifted to Indianapolis. Both the guys looked like they would make it. Todd, though, was hanging on day-to-day. I left a message with Mike. I reached Bill, and he took the news of the guys condition as if a boulder had been lifted off his shoulders. Now he had the freedom to cry and let the experience continue to sink in. I’m just sort of numb. I don’t feel like I did anything to help out – nothing like Todd, Joe, or Bill. I know Mike shared these feelings, too. So is this the human experience? We want to overcome and be here for our brothers and sisters, but in the end our deepest inadequacies are exposed?

Still, I prayed for these guys over and over. I prayed for Mike, Bill, Todd, and Joe. I don’t know what’s in store for me, but I do know that my experiences help me understand how to navigate my life when I reach places I’ve never been before. I’m having a hard time imagining what I’m going to need this experience for.

A part of me didn’t want to write this. A part of me had to. I look at the fear I had to deal with wondering if that truck would explode. Then I saw the fire department approach the engulfing flames and put the fire out. And I’m grateful in my heart for them. Thank you.

I hope this is coherent.

- Andy

This entry was posted Monday, September 22nd, 2008 at 10:53 pm and is filed under Life. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.