No one told me when I took this job, that it would be on the 'front lines' of the war on crime!
I am so not a morning person. As far as I am concerned, anytime before 7 may as well not exist. But I have an appointment with the midwife today, and Kevin wants to go, and he gets to work at 6:30. *sigh* Fine. So I come in with him sometimes. Getting out of work at 3 is super fun, but getting to work at 6:30 super sucks.
Early mornings are just wrong. Bad things happen in the morning, much like bad things that happen in the middle of the night. When you get down to it, 3 am, which was described in the Exorcism of Emily Rose as the witching hour, is not much different than say, 5:30 am. 5:30 am is just the time of day that all those rotten things that happen at 3 am get discovered and cleaned up. By the time I stroll into work between 8:30 and 9, well, it's pretty much daytime then, so, phew. Good.
But this morning, when we turned the corner to get to work, there was a tow truck stopped in the middle of the street. The driver was standing next to an old man laying on the ground by a building. I may not have noticed him laying there at all, and if I did notice him, upon first glance I would have driven past assuming he's just a homeless guy. There's a lot of those on the east coast.
Anyhow, when we turned the corner, good samaritan tow truck driver rushed over to our car, and I rolled down the window, and he said "This guy's hurt! I'm calling 911--what street are we on?"
Neither Kevin or I knew the actual street name (it was two down from the street we work on, but since there are a lot of one ways, you always have to take a round about way to get to work). A bunch more cars past us, the good samaritan talked to the 911 operator, and the guy just laid there, bloody and oblivious. And he was old. Lots of gray hair. And he appeared to be wearing an old fashioned suit. Kevin went to check what street it was, told the guy, and then said "OK, let's go".
I was torn. Part of me wanted to stay and help. Part of me knew I had to go to work. Part of me would prefer to stay and help than go to work. Part of me knew that if the guy was severely beaten or hurt or dead, there was no way I could handle that. I asked Kevin if he thought we should stay to help, and he said that he definitely couldn't, and there was no way that he thought I should.
Because a hysterical crying pregnant girl who doesn't even know the guy, is probably the last thing the ambulance workers need when they arrive, right?
So we went to work.
But I keep wondering if he's ok. And what the heck was he doing down here? Everyone knows that this place is a blatant f-ing ghetto. Why would some old guy--homeless or not--come down here? Maybe he has alzheimers and wandered away from his family, and came here, where some stupid punks beat the crap out of him for his aarp card? Nice. But that's the kind of stuff that happens here.
A few months ago, someone dumped a body outside a masonic temple right next to where this guy was. Some girl was raped and strangled and left dead in the middle of the night outside the masonic temple. They found her body of course, the next morning. That was the talk of work that day. Maybe it was the Illuminati! Aren't they the evil group associated with the masons?:) I read Angels & Demons.
See?? Mornings. Yuck.
Oh, and where I work, yuck, too.
God, please don't let that guy be dead. Or severely hurt. Hopefully he's just an alzheimers patient, who wandered off, got a nosebleed, and laid down to take a nap. And he's just hard to wake up. Yeah. Please let that be it.
posted by ElliottPreciousPants @ 5:56 AM
3 Comments:
Ugh. Awful morning. Sorry. Thing is - he could be fine, he could be dead - you really don't know. Both are equally likely. In these cases, I am a big proponent of "think positive"...
Even though it's early, I would love to come in with Kevin all the time. Save money on gas, not have to drive--rocks! But they won't let me. Except for special circumstances, like a midwife appointment. I'm not permitted to work that schedule, I must work a schedule in which I never arrive later than 10, and I never leave earlier than 4. Unless, like I said, special circumstances....
I hope he's ok too. I keep thinking about it. I talked to another guy here at work who saw it, and he said that the guy is an old mentally challenged guy that lives around here, and has for several years. I guess lately the guy has been wearing his suit and standing at the bus stop at 6 am to go someplace--but this morning, he wasn't there, and when my co-worker turned the corner--oops, there the old guy was, laying on the pavement with some ambulances on the way.
Poor old guy.
Um, for the record, I didn't think he was cute. Although, I don't normally think old people look cute. Sometimes scary, because when I see them I realize I too will one day be wrinkled and gray and crypt-keeper looking, and maybe smell like rotting, but not usually cute. He especially didn't look cute with the blood all over his shirt and his face on the sidewalk. Eeeeeek! I didn't like it at all.
I am thinking positive. I hope he's not dead. I don't know that I will ever know. Would they put that in the paper??
my 2 cents:
i was driving one day when i was about 17, and this old guy got hit by a car while he was crossing the streets. it was before the ubiquitous cell phone era, and before I could pull over and realize that no one should move the guy, someone had called. I stayed until we heard sirens, there were a couple people just trying to make sure he didn't get hit again in the road. once the ambulance got close, i realized i was only in the way. i only looked at him once, and all the brain was leaking out. i got home and was just hysterical, which seems funny to me now, but i was beside myself. my dad was all worried, and i couldn't get the whole story out at once, between sobs. "old guy.. hit by car... definitely dead..." my dad thought i hit him... the next day i read in the paper that he was in serious but stable condition. i felt better. Point: even when someone looks really hurt, they're sometimes ok.
from the amb-a-lance experience, i guess i would also say that looks can be really deceiving. especially on the head, and when there's blood. there's a lot more blood that i think we estimate to be in us, and you can get rid of a bunch, and still do fine. head/ face cuts bleed like hell, but aren't such a big deal. One kid i saw had a 2 inch lac to his forehead, and was covered head-to-toe in dried blood. i thought he was going to be dead, looking at him, but he was fine, even argumentative. they scrubbed him, stapled him, and sent him home.
The other part of the ambulance thing is that bad stuff happens to old people, and they are ok or not, and your being around doesn't change anything but being exposed to the rare and delicious diseases of the elderly yourself. if you had stayed, you would need gloves to start with, and more equipment if you hoped to do anything besides make things worse. the best thing people can do is call, and you guys helped with that. if i were you, i would think of it as a shitty thing that happened, and luckily someone (you guys and truck man) was there to help the guy out as much as possible.
Post a Comment
<< Home