(excerpt)
Matt
knew that they had to get the beam off of the pastor before anymore of the
floor above caved in. He also knew that lifting the beam would likely kill the
man. The solid weight of the beam was crushing the man’s insides…ironically it
was also the only thing that was keeping him from bleeding out.
“Son,
please tell me honestly what my chances are.” The clergyman laid his hand on Matt’s
arm as he was putting a face mask and oxygen on the trapped man. He noticed
Matt’s slight hesitation. “The Lord sent you here to do his work and you are
doing the best you can. But in the end it is God’s decision whether I live or
die, not yours. You've already done so much good here by rescuing our
children.”
“I’m
sorry I didn't get to them all in time…”
“That
was God’s decision.”
Matt
sighed. “Sir, I’m giving you some saline and pain killers. There’s a
possibility that when we lift the beam off of you… it’s going to be very
painful and you’ll probably lose consciousness.” He added sodium bicarb into
the IV line to hopefully keep his patient’s blood pressure a little more even.
“Because
of the pain?”
“No,
because right now all of your blood is pushed up into your upper body and when
the beam comes off it will be like opening a faucet. It’s all going to rush
into your lower body and it will be like you are bleeding out.” He kept the
explanation simple. Crush syndrome was often fatal. “I can’t give you enough
saline to keep your upper body filled.”
Jay
was busy positioning an inflatable pillow under the beam to lift it. He glanced
sympathetically at Matt. Matt was trying to reassure the man without making any
false promises.
“I
don’t need any painkillers, son.”
“I
think you’ll be more comfortable… and it will make our jobs easier.”
“I
don’t feel any pain now…”
Matt wasn't surprised, he doubted the man could feel any of his lower body. Even if
he lived, there might be significant spine damage and paralysis. There was a
huge risk he would suffer renal failure. The odds weren't good, but Matt was
going to try his best.
Matt
spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Can you see if anyone up there has an old MAST
on their truck?” MAST, military anti-shock trousers for short, weren’t used
often anymore, but the inflatable trousers could help to keep the patient’s
pressure up long enough to get him definitive treatment in the hospital. It was
a shot–it was the only shot they really had.
A
set of MAST trousers was taken from the local fire department’s EQ and sent
down with a reeves and straps to package the Pastor in and transport him up
top. Being unconscious would actually be a blessing thought Matt. Jay began to
inflate the airbag and the trapped man went unconscious as soon as the pressure
was relieved. Matt and Jay pulled him straight out and on to the reeves. He got
the trousers on and inflated them quickly. Then they cocooned the reeves
stretcher around the man and dragged him towards the hole they had been lowered
through. Rescuers on top used straps to drag the man up while Matt and Jay
guided him. It was slow going.
The
floor above them shifted from the weight of the rescue workers and debris
showered down. Matt’s helmet was knocked from his head, Jay was knocked down.
When the dust settled both men were coughing. They could taste the plaster, but
were otherwise unscathed. The rescue rope was tossed down for them and Matt
pushed Jay towards it. As Jay was being pulled up and out of the hole more
plaster fell and for the first time Matt actually worried that he might not make
it out.
The
local towns were torn apart. Houses and entire lives were collapsed. They found
a child’s bed and favorite nighttime doll wedged into an uprooted tree, the
distraught parents couldn't find the child anywhere. Even all of the help that
arrived couldn't do anything to relieve the anguish that survivors felt over
the loss of their family members. Nearly five days after the tornadoes tore
through the area the hard decision was made to move from rescue attempts to the
recovery of bodies. Matt and many of the other local EMS first responders were
being sent home.
He
only got to call Sudah one time during the four days that he was there. Matt
was standing next to a group of federal rescue workers when he tried his cell
phone and saw he couldn't get a signal. One of the DMAT team members let him
use a satellite phone to call and say hello to his wife. The two minutes went
by too quickly. She sounded strained and he felt guilty for having left her
alone for so long. He was going to have two days off after his return and he
looked forward to making up lost time with his wife and son.
Each
day they found fewer survivors and more casualties. The strain showed on all of
their faces. It was hard not to see the faces of their own loved ones in a mass
of bodies. They were told that this town was the worst hit, they had the least
warning and it appeared the most casualties. The DMAT members set up pseudo
hospitals in tents and survivors lined up for treatment of various injuries and
other ailments. Supplies like food, water and blankets were being trucked in,
but there wasn’t nearly enough yet. Matt and the other members of his S.O.D. team were ready to go home. They missed their
families. There was no more they could do there.
No comments:
Post a Comment