Mortality and morality

September 22, 2012

I saw a stranger die tonight in a horrific car accident while on the way home from seeing Macbeth. We stopped to render aid, and as Hunter was parking on the side of the road and calling 911, I ran to the scene of the accident found the body. It was about 30-40 feet from where the truck finally stopped. There was no pulse, no breath, and his clothes were torn half off his body. It was bad. For the rest of my life, I will regret that I didn’t have the presence of mind to administer CPR. It’s true, and I feel terrible. All of the blood, the horror of it all, it got to me and I blanked out. I thought I was stronger than that. I will be next time. I was told by several people that it wouldn’t have done any good, but that still doesn’t alleviate me from that guilt.

It was so surreal. We saw the truck flip about 4 times, coming down the hill straight at our truck. We pulled over immediately to assist, but there was nothing to be done. I make no judgements, but there were full bottles of cold Corona lying all around him (I had to move his hand off a full, capped bottle to get to his wrist to try to find a pulse when I couldn’t get one from his neck) and I can’t imagine how a man of his considerable size could have been thrown from the vehicle if he was wearing a seat belt. ::sigh:: I just keep thinking about the frailty of human life and how he’s never going to show up wherever he was going. HIs family has lost him, his friends have lost him, all in the space of a few seconds. Damn.

I was surprised when on of the Sheriffs that showed up said that most people don’t stop to render aid. How could you NOT? It was obvious that anyone in that truck was going to be in bad shape. The accident was like a movie, it flipped over several times, how could you NOT stop to assist? What the hell, people? Really? So you have to fill out an incident report. So you might have to be inconvenienced for an hour or so. It’s a damn person! UGH

So anyway. That’s my day. I come home from seeing Macbeth and witness this. Then I go all Lady Macbeth, washing my hands to get the dead man’s blood off and just not feeling like they’ll ever come clean. The irony is not lost on me. I don’t believe I’ll be watching the Scottish Play again. Bad memories.

As for me, it’s an Ambien and a prayer that I can sleep tonight.

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