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Mass Casualty Incident (MCI)
Sep. 3rd, 2003 06:40 pmThat's what they call it. By definition, it's any incident in which the number of victims overwhelms the first responders. 4 Victims, 4 rescue qualified workers, 1-2 nurses that arrived over the course of a 30 minute time period. There were a number of bystanders, but no one with training. Or maybe they had training and didn't step up to the plate. I don't know, I was only there 30 minutes and there wasn't time to chat. It was chaos to anyone that's never run the situation through their head (repeatedly as a part of training), but it was pretty orderly to me in retrospect.
I'm driving down 138 west, heading to I-5 North in the mountains north of LA. We're (Stacey was with me, my best friend) so proud of ourselves for bypassing LA traffic on Labor Day, 9-1-03. About 10 miles from I-5, we come upon an accident. It took about 20 seconds to realize it, but we finally figured it out when we were able to see the line of destruction created by the car that now looked like a cube of metal in a field off the roadway. A pair of skid marks on the road showed an exit angle of 30-45 degrees from the road. I asked Stacey, my most trusted friend in this world if she thought I should pull over. She glanced at the traffic on the roadside and the single fire engine on scene, and said it looked like there were plenty of people there already. I nodded, but there's this little voice that said, "True, but I don't see any ambulance and what if they DO need help and you drove by? Pull over Michael, Stace will understand." And that's exactly what we did. I also grabbed my orange Civil Air Patrol Ground Team Shirt (no way am I being hit by a car and becoming a part of the scene as a victim), and proceeded to the scene across the road, leaving my medical bag at the truck. I didn't think there was anything in it I could use that the fire fighters didn't already have. I ended up being wrong on that count. Mistake #1.
I identified myself to a Fireman as well as my qualifications (being a certified first responder), and asked if he could use a hand. A rather shaken firefighter says, "I don't know... Follow me." I move 30 feet east to enter the field where the wrecked auto created a hole in the fence. In my mind, I start having a conversation with myself, "Ok Mike, it's time to use what you know, you can do this, keep your head up and be alert, ask permission from victims to treat them, get supplies when asked, do quick trauma assessments ONLY until triage is complete, that is IF you're doing triage... I hope the first person we come to isn't a dead kid... *sees first pair of little feet on the dirt* Oh my God, its a kid, I think he's already dead..." What I saw was a child's feet, yellow color, you could tell no blood or not enough blood was getting to his toes for sufficient perfusion to take place to sustain life. My eyes made a sweep up the body of this young boy, until I realized he had only one eye left to look back at me. That eye was bulging a bit, staring almost straight up. face was pretty smashed. His right temple, and cranium was deformed, dented, like a football with 1/4th of it dented in like it didn't have enough air to stay inflated. Small amounts of gray matter I believe was visible. I was 8 feet from his head and couldn't see too well with the bright sun shining down. The good news, he was reported to have a weak pulse. However there were no respirations. I was told we have 3 other victims at that time, besides this badly bloodied boy, and that this boy was 3. He could've been close to 5, I don't know for sure. I knew we had to move on, but I couldn't bring myself to speak up to ask permission to move on. Is that heartless to want to move on, or was is stupid of me to not speak up when I knew the way triage works? Who knows, maybe it was a mistake. I was in L.A. County's jurisdiction and was there to assist them, not try to override them. If they had said try to treat him, I would've started rescue breathing.
If I were dead on the sand, and 3 others that were in a car with me were salvageable, I'd want you to get the hell away from me and take care of them. Maybe the kid told us to move on. As sad as it was, the decision was clear, "Cover him up" the lead firefighter says. I knew why, even though the Mexican guy (bystander) that was taking the kids pulse was upset at the decision. It's called an MCI, or Mass Casualty Incident.
You perform triage, or a separation of 4 types of people.
Green tag- Walking wounded (stable, generally ok).
Yellow Tag- Not walking but not an instant priority (delayed transport)
Red Tag- Immediate Transport, needs help fast, but they've got a shot at living.
Black Tag- Dead or dying, do not use time to treat them, move on to next victim.
Welcome to Triage rescues.
The little boy, even with a weak pulse, was a black tag, it was time to move on. We cover him up with a beach towel, it's all we had. We move on to Victim #2. 8 year old boy. He was laying down on his right side, clutching his right arm. It was broken. I started a brief look over to see if there were any immediate life threats... Nothing spurting, pooling, but he's VERY upset and screaming for his mother. It does no good, his mom is trapped in the Trailblazer 20 yards away. After deciding he'll be ok long enough for me to check out victim #3, I leave for the next group of closely huddled people.
This is a calm little girl, about 10 years old. She has Ice applied to her right wrist to control the massive swelling, an obvious break. She has a slight burn on her neck from the seatbelt that saved her life. No other signs of major trauma, no bleeders, she's talking, she knows her name, the day of the week, etc. "She's delayed" I tell myself, yellow tag.
Victim #4, the mother and driver of the now destroyed Trailblazer. The car is on the drivers side, with a tire against the roof to stabilize it. The mother is laying back on the roof of the car, head close to the passenger side window, that now is acting like a moon roof. Door is jammed, but the crew cabin is VERY well in tact. The only reason everyone wasn't thrown out upon impact I believe. Mom is woozy, but responsive. I can't do anything for her, she's by default a Yellow Tag in my mind. An air ambulance lands at that time 70 yards away in the field and I decide to get back to the 8 y/o boy and give him a better exam.
He's not consolable, he's crying and still screaming for his mom. I try to talk to him, "Son, it's ok, I just saw your mom, I just visited her, she's ok and as soon as we take care of you, you'll feel better and you'll see your mom soon, look at me son..." He'd have NONE of it. He kept screaming. But, I had a job to do, so I got the background from people that had been with the boy. He thankfully was extracted from the car by rescuers, he wasn't ejected like his dead brother. The exam showed that he had dried blood in his ear canal, multiple contusions/abrasions/lacerations, including a nasty cut on his lower left leg, RIGHT over the bone. His bone was showing, but there's nothing you can do about it now, its not even bleeding (which made me wonder how long ago this had happened... Before I could ask, Medics from the chopper were arriving. I brief one on the boy, stating he's priority 1, his sister is #2 for transport, and by default mom is #3 since she's trapped in the Trailblazer. He does a quick assessment of the little girl, agrees with me, and we begin packaging. I ask him if he wants C-Spine, he says yes, I ask him about collars, and if he has one, he doesn't answer, but he directs me to the child's legs to assist in the lift and securing of the boy to the board for air med-evac. You know what I thought about that? "Mike, you were right to go to that training session before the 49er game." We practiced ELT search, and air Med-Evac/packaging. All I had to do was stay home and sleep, then go to a football game that night with my Stacey, bless her heart. She got us tickets for that game through her bosses at work in trade for a banana pie. But no, I put my time in to learn a skill that in all honesty I thought while I was learning it, that "I'll never use it for real". I was wrong. I was glad I was on scene to use what I learned. You never know when you'll be asked to use what you know, so I suggest to anyone that reads this, that you know all you can about your job. It might pay off for you, or someone else in the future.
So, after a small moment of personal pride knowing what I learned was paying off for this child, I have to hold his broken leg down before he kicks the air medic that was standing above him... He would've caught him right in the crotch if he got his leg away from me, or hurt his neck even more then it was... But he DID manage to get a leg free from my hands. I quickly got a hold of his leg again and strapped it down. After I got it back, and saw a wonderful sight, Stacey. I saw Stace looking over at me, taking in what I was doing, sending best wishes to everyone, telling me I was doing the right thing, asking if she could help, asking if I needed anything, all with a single look and no words exchanged. Her eyes were a vacation from the situation, but I couldn't just take a break, we had more people to treat.
The lead air Medic in his blue flight suit looks at me, asking where C-spine was, and why I hadn't given it to him yet. "I THOUGHT YOU HAD C-SPINE?" He says to me as I'm strapping the kids feet down. I respond, "I asked you if you had a collar, do you want me to go get a collar from the engine?" *he nods in an understanding way* He wasn't angry, he knew that the chopper was so loud in the background that he might have missed what I had said. I knew it wasn't an attack, he just needed to know ASAP where his C-Spine collar (neck brace) was and who would own up to it. Well, I did. I think of it as Mistake #2, and my NOT wearing gloves, Mistake #3.
I get a collar after looking through 3 compartments of the engine, and return to the boy. I hand them 1 collar, and I move on to the fire fighters, giving them 2 collars (adult). "I need a cardboard splint" another medic yells. No doubt for the broken arm and leg of the boy. I get moving back to the Engine after I ask a fireman where the splints are. "It's in the compartment you got the collars out of." Very well, back to the engine I go. I FINALLY find that they're kept in a BACKPACK, which he failed to mention at the time. I lost 40 seconds to that. Mistake #4, in my mind, it just took too long. I grab the bag and start back through the fence, and I see the boy being moved to the chopper. I make my way to the chopper, keeping my head low to avoid a serious haircut by the rotors. However, the nurse next to me charges to the copter without ducking... I tell her, "HEAD DOWN PLEASE!", she ducks thankfully, and smiles. We drop off supplies in the chopper, it was so loud... must've been a Huey. I knew if Jess was there, she wouldn't have been able to stand it. We get the "We're good to go" thumbs up, and we depart the blade danger area. En route to the little girl that was still on scene, I get a tap on the shoulder from a fireman, one of our heroes who's name I don't even know, "Thanks very much for stopping to help." That's all I needed to keep going. "Anytime. We've got 2 people left to take care of, lets do it."
What a compliment.
Back to the little girl, time to get vitals and do a trauma assessment. I look up as I arrive at the girl, and we've got paramedics on scene, but they take charge of the mom since she's now being removed from the car and the little girl is basically ok. I look to Stacey as I approached the girl, taking solace in her eyes as she still is looking for something to do, clutching my medical bag with the cross facing out, signaling she had supplies for anyone that needed them, and I asked her for my blood pressure cuff. She hands it to me and I start to get access to her left arm for pressure and pulse after I ascertain it's not broken/injured. At that time, a Sheriff/Paramedic asked me to step back so he could move in and treat the girl. In my opinion, he should've taken the other side, so I could get vitals on her left side. BUT, it's not my job to ignore instructions, it IS my job to obey them, so I back out. He starts his exam, calls for his emergency bag, gets out his sheers, cuts away her clothing, and does an exam. No guarding, no major injuries, no scaring, no uneven chest movement, no apparent injuries that have gone unnoticed.
I pull away, ask a fireman if they have things under control, he says after looking around that "We're ok now." I look at Stace after I do a last scene size up, and tell her, "It's time to go now." as gently as I can. She doesn't move.I see her eyes, her body, her breathing, Slow sweeps visually of the scene. I couldn't decide if she was about to lose it, if she was in shock, or just zoning out. I give her a little time, maybe 30 seconds, and move closer to her trying to make eye contact. "Stace, it's about time to go. There's plenty of people here that can do far more then I can. The BEST thing we can do, is give them room." She looks around, looks at me with eyes I've never seen, and says while batting her eyes slowly, in a whisper, "ok."
We have to walk by the dead child one last time, and then we go over the downed fence/barbed wire. I get Stace to move clear of a Paramedic trying to overtake us from behind and get to her rig. We cross the street, and have a brief conversation with a woman I saw taking pictures from the fence line. She's a neighbor in the area, and she says wrecks like this happen all the time, people getting in a big hurry and are careless. I tell her a child is dead, and she shrieks an "Oh no". I think to myself either this woman is maybe sweet despite her taking pics of the accident instead of helping, or the worst over-actor in the world.
CAP shirt goes back in the bag, medical bag goes away, we start to get in the truck as the second chopper makes a 180 overhead looking for the Landing Zone for the dust off (patient pick up). We depart slowly, emergency vehicles passing us going to the wreck every few minutes. It was over.
30 minutes, that's about it.
Stace and I try to make small talk, but it's sometimes limited to bees hitting the windshield... I try not to say, "I DON'T WANT TO THINK ABOUT THINGS GOING SPLAT", it just reminded me of the dead little boy. I get past that, see the humor, and try to get back into the swing of things. Stacey was a diamond in the desert that afternoon, I'm glad she was there. I almost lost my emotional control when we talked about seatbelts... She sometimes doesn't wear the belt for the crew seat when she rides with me and she's in the back. She promised me she would now. I felt like I was begging her to, my heart wanted to let go, but I didn't.
My dreams suck now. I'm falling, or about to impact things, I just can't get good rest. Falling dreams, only I leave the ground on a bike jumping from a bike ramp, and then mi go like, 100 feet into the air and come screaming down to the ground. I only want to be curled up and have someone wrap me up where ever I choose to lay. Yeah, I'm a puss right now. Jess cuddles, but makes it a pussy cuddle with my girlfriend. Jess is a motherly type, and it would feel that way. I don't want that. Does that make sense? I want to shut the world out and go off radar sometimes now, like last night till 12:30am. I don't know. I need to swim, or play tennis, or exercise... I need to do laundry too.
I'm kind of drained, and have my first test next week, and injections, and HazMat on the 13th all day... I hope the others lived. What do you say to the mother? "I'm sorry, I had to let one of your babies go without a fight because we needed to take care of you and your other kids." That's exactly what we did, it had to be done. IT HAD TO BE DONE THAT WAY. I'm sorry there wasn't anything more we could do. I'll repeat this until I'm blue in the face, or until I really know it was the case.
I'm driving down 138 west, heading to I-5 North in the mountains north of LA. We're (Stacey was with me, my best friend) so proud of ourselves for bypassing LA traffic on Labor Day, 9-1-03. About 10 miles from I-5, we come upon an accident. It took about 20 seconds to realize it, but we finally figured it out when we were able to see the line of destruction created by the car that now looked like a cube of metal in a field off the roadway. A pair of skid marks on the road showed an exit angle of 30-45 degrees from the road. I asked Stacey, my most trusted friend in this world if she thought I should pull over. She glanced at the traffic on the roadside and the single fire engine on scene, and said it looked like there were plenty of people there already. I nodded, but there's this little voice that said, "True, but I don't see any ambulance and what if they DO need help and you drove by? Pull over Michael, Stace will understand." And that's exactly what we did. I also grabbed my orange Civil Air Patrol Ground Team Shirt (no way am I being hit by a car and becoming a part of the scene as a victim), and proceeded to the scene across the road, leaving my medical bag at the truck. I didn't think there was anything in it I could use that the fire fighters didn't already have. I ended up being wrong on that count. Mistake #1.
I identified myself to a Fireman as well as my qualifications (being a certified first responder), and asked if he could use a hand. A rather shaken firefighter says, "I don't know... Follow me." I move 30 feet east to enter the field where the wrecked auto created a hole in the fence. In my mind, I start having a conversation with myself, "Ok Mike, it's time to use what you know, you can do this, keep your head up and be alert, ask permission from victims to treat them, get supplies when asked, do quick trauma assessments ONLY until triage is complete, that is IF you're doing triage... I hope the first person we come to isn't a dead kid... *sees first pair of little feet on the dirt* Oh my God, its a kid, I think he's already dead..." What I saw was a child's feet, yellow color, you could tell no blood or not enough blood was getting to his toes for sufficient perfusion to take place to sustain life. My eyes made a sweep up the body of this young boy, until I realized he had only one eye left to look back at me. That eye was bulging a bit, staring almost straight up. face was pretty smashed. His right temple, and cranium was deformed, dented, like a football with 1/4th of it dented in like it didn't have enough air to stay inflated. Small amounts of gray matter I believe was visible. I was 8 feet from his head and couldn't see too well with the bright sun shining down. The good news, he was reported to have a weak pulse. However there were no respirations. I was told we have 3 other victims at that time, besides this badly bloodied boy, and that this boy was 3. He could've been close to 5, I don't know for sure. I knew we had to move on, but I couldn't bring myself to speak up to ask permission to move on. Is that heartless to want to move on, or was is stupid of me to not speak up when I knew the way triage works? Who knows, maybe it was a mistake. I was in L.A. County's jurisdiction and was there to assist them, not try to override them. If they had said try to treat him, I would've started rescue breathing.
If I were dead on the sand, and 3 others that were in a car with me were salvageable, I'd want you to get the hell away from me and take care of them. Maybe the kid told us to move on. As sad as it was, the decision was clear, "Cover him up" the lead firefighter says. I knew why, even though the Mexican guy (bystander) that was taking the kids pulse was upset at the decision. It's called an MCI, or Mass Casualty Incident.
You perform triage, or a separation of 4 types of people.
Green tag- Walking wounded (stable, generally ok).
Yellow Tag- Not walking but not an instant priority (delayed transport)
Red Tag- Immediate Transport, needs help fast, but they've got a shot at living.
Black Tag- Dead or dying, do not use time to treat them, move on to next victim.
Welcome to Triage rescues.
The little boy, even with a weak pulse, was a black tag, it was time to move on. We cover him up with a beach towel, it's all we had. We move on to Victim #2. 8 year old boy. He was laying down on his right side, clutching his right arm. It was broken. I started a brief look over to see if there were any immediate life threats... Nothing spurting, pooling, but he's VERY upset and screaming for his mother. It does no good, his mom is trapped in the Trailblazer 20 yards away. After deciding he'll be ok long enough for me to check out victim #3, I leave for the next group of closely huddled people.
This is a calm little girl, about 10 years old. She has Ice applied to her right wrist to control the massive swelling, an obvious break. She has a slight burn on her neck from the seatbelt that saved her life. No other signs of major trauma, no bleeders, she's talking, she knows her name, the day of the week, etc. "She's delayed" I tell myself, yellow tag.
Victim #4, the mother and driver of the now destroyed Trailblazer. The car is on the drivers side, with a tire against the roof to stabilize it. The mother is laying back on the roof of the car, head close to the passenger side window, that now is acting like a moon roof. Door is jammed, but the crew cabin is VERY well in tact. The only reason everyone wasn't thrown out upon impact I believe. Mom is woozy, but responsive. I can't do anything for her, she's by default a Yellow Tag in my mind. An air ambulance lands at that time 70 yards away in the field and I decide to get back to the 8 y/o boy and give him a better exam.
He's not consolable, he's crying and still screaming for his mom. I try to talk to him, "Son, it's ok, I just saw your mom, I just visited her, she's ok and as soon as we take care of you, you'll feel better and you'll see your mom soon, look at me son..." He'd have NONE of it. He kept screaming. But, I had a job to do, so I got the background from people that had been with the boy. He thankfully was extracted from the car by rescuers, he wasn't ejected like his dead brother. The exam showed that he had dried blood in his ear canal, multiple contusions/abrasions/lacerations, including a nasty cut on his lower left leg, RIGHT over the bone. His bone was showing, but there's nothing you can do about it now, its not even bleeding (which made me wonder how long ago this had happened... Before I could ask, Medics from the chopper were arriving. I brief one on the boy, stating he's priority 1, his sister is #2 for transport, and by default mom is #3 since she's trapped in the Trailblazer. He does a quick assessment of the little girl, agrees with me, and we begin packaging. I ask him if he wants C-Spine, he says yes, I ask him about collars, and if he has one, he doesn't answer, but he directs me to the child's legs to assist in the lift and securing of the boy to the board for air med-evac. You know what I thought about that? "Mike, you were right to go to that training session before the 49er game." We practiced ELT search, and air Med-Evac/packaging. All I had to do was stay home and sleep, then go to a football game that night with my Stacey, bless her heart. She got us tickets for that game through her bosses at work in trade for a banana pie. But no, I put my time in to learn a skill that in all honesty I thought while I was learning it, that "I'll never use it for real". I was wrong. I was glad I was on scene to use what I learned. You never know when you'll be asked to use what you know, so I suggest to anyone that reads this, that you know all you can about your job. It might pay off for you, or someone else in the future.
So, after a small moment of personal pride knowing what I learned was paying off for this child, I have to hold his broken leg down before he kicks the air medic that was standing above him... He would've caught him right in the crotch if he got his leg away from me, or hurt his neck even more then it was... But he DID manage to get a leg free from my hands. I quickly got a hold of his leg again and strapped it down. After I got it back, and saw a wonderful sight, Stacey. I saw Stace looking over at me, taking in what I was doing, sending best wishes to everyone, telling me I was doing the right thing, asking if she could help, asking if I needed anything, all with a single look and no words exchanged. Her eyes were a vacation from the situation, but I couldn't just take a break, we had more people to treat.
The lead air Medic in his blue flight suit looks at me, asking where C-spine was, and why I hadn't given it to him yet. "I THOUGHT YOU HAD C-SPINE?" He says to me as I'm strapping the kids feet down. I respond, "I asked you if you had a collar, do you want me to go get a collar from the engine?" *he nods in an understanding way* He wasn't angry, he knew that the chopper was so loud in the background that he might have missed what I had said. I knew it wasn't an attack, he just needed to know ASAP where his C-Spine collar (neck brace) was and who would own up to it. Well, I did. I think of it as Mistake #2, and my NOT wearing gloves, Mistake #3.
I get a collar after looking through 3 compartments of the engine, and return to the boy. I hand them 1 collar, and I move on to the fire fighters, giving them 2 collars (adult). "I need a cardboard splint" another medic yells. No doubt for the broken arm and leg of the boy. I get moving back to the Engine after I ask a fireman where the splints are. "It's in the compartment you got the collars out of." Very well, back to the engine I go. I FINALLY find that they're kept in a BACKPACK, which he failed to mention at the time. I lost 40 seconds to that. Mistake #4, in my mind, it just took too long. I grab the bag and start back through the fence, and I see the boy being moved to the chopper. I make my way to the chopper, keeping my head low to avoid a serious haircut by the rotors. However, the nurse next to me charges to the copter without ducking... I tell her, "HEAD DOWN PLEASE!", she ducks thankfully, and smiles. We drop off supplies in the chopper, it was so loud... must've been a Huey. I knew if Jess was there, she wouldn't have been able to stand it. We get the "We're good to go" thumbs up, and we depart the blade danger area. En route to the little girl that was still on scene, I get a tap on the shoulder from a fireman, one of our heroes who's name I don't even know, "Thanks very much for stopping to help." That's all I needed to keep going. "Anytime. We've got 2 people left to take care of, lets do it."
What a compliment.
Back to the little girl, time to get vitals and do a trauma assessment. I look up as I arrive at the girl, and we've got paramedics on scene, but they take charge of the mom since she's now being removed from the car and the little girl is basically ok. I look to Stacey as I approached the girl, taking solace in her eyes as she still is looking for something to do, clutching my medical bag with the cross facing out, signaling she had supplies for anyone that needed them, and I asked her for my blood pressure cuff. She hands it to me and I start to get access to her left arm for pressure and pulse after I ascertain it's not broken/injured. At that time, a Sheriff/Paramedic asked me to step back so he could move in and treat the girl. In my opinion, he should've taken the other side, so I could get vitals on her left side. BUT, it's not my job to ignore instructions, it IS my job to obey them, so I back out. He starts his exam, calls for his emergency bag, gets out his sheers, cuts away her clothing, and does an exam. No guarding, no major injuries, no scaring, no uneven chest movement, no apparent injuries that have gone unnoticed.
I pull away, ask a fireman if they have things under control, he says after looking around that "We're ok now." I look at Stace after I do a last scene size up, and tell her, "It's time to go now." as gently as I can. She doesn't move.I see her eyes, her body, her breathing, Slow sweeps visually of the scene. I couldn't decide if she was about to lose it, if she was in shock, or just zoning out. I give her a little time, maybe 30 seconds, and move closer to her trying to make eye contact. "Stace, it's about time to go. There's plenty of people here that can do far more then I can. The BEST thing we can do, is give them room." She looks around, looks at me with eyes I've never seen, and says while batting her eyes slowly, in a whisper, "ok."
We have to walk by the dead child one last time, and then we go over the downed fence/barbed wire. I get Stace to move clear of a Paramedic trying to overtake us from behind and get to her rig. We cross the street, and have a brief conversation with a woman I saw taking pictures from the fence line. She's a neighbor in the area, and she says wrecks like this happen all the time, people getting in a big hurry and are careless. I tell her a child is dead, and she shrieks an "Oh no". I think to myself either this woman is maybe sweet despite her taking pics of the accident instead of helping, or the worst over-actor in the world.
CAP shirt goes back in the bag, medical bag goes away, we start to get in the truck as the second chopper makes a 180 overhead looking for the Landing Zone for the dust off (patient pick up). We depart slowly, emergency vehicles passing us going to the wreck every few minutes. It was over.
30 minutes, that's about it.
Stace and I try to make small talk, but it's sometimes limited to bees hitting the windshield... I try not to say, "I DON'T WANT TO THINK ABOUT THINGS GOING SPLAT", it just reminded me of the dead little boy. I get past that, see the humor, and try to get back into the swing of things. Stacey was a diamond in the desert that afternoon, I'm glad she was there. I almost lost my emotional control when we talked about seatbelts... She sometimes doesn't wear the belt for the crew seat when she rides with me and she's in the back. She promised me she would now. I felt like I was begging her to, my heart wanted to let go, but I didn't.
My dreams suck now. I'm falling, or about to impact things, I just can't get good rest. Falling dreams, only I leave the ground on a bike jumping from a bike ramp, and then mi go like, 100 feet into the air and come screaming down to the ground. I only want to be curled up and have someone wrap me up where ever I choose to lay. Yeah, I'm a puss right now. Jess cuddles, but makes it a pussy cuddle with my girlfriend. Jess is a motherly type, and it would feel that way. I don't want that. Does that make sense? I want to shut the world out and go off radar sometimes now, like last night till 12:30am. I don't know. I need to swim, or play tennis, or exercise... I need to do laundry too.
I'm kind of drained, and have my first test next week, and injections, and HazMat on the 13th all day... I hope the others lived. What do you say to the mother? "I'm sorry, I had to let one of your babies go without a fight because we needed to take care of you and your other kids." That's exactly what we did, it had to be done. IT HAD TO BE DONE THAT WAY. I'm sorry there wasn't anything more we could do. I'll repeat this until I'm blue in the face, or until I really know it was the case.
