Marcy Phipps, BSN, RN, CCRN, ATCN, TNCC, an ICU nurse who recently took up flight nursing, is an occasional contributor to this blog.
I recently experienced a series of events that seemed interconnected and orchestrated.
It started with my usual morning run. I was jogging out of my neighborhood, already sweating in the summer heat and absorbed—coincidentally—in an audio podcast about trauma care, when I came upon a man sprawled in the middle of a usually very busy thoroughfare. His motorcycle, badly damaged, was lying on its side next to a car with a crumpled door panel. The accident had clearly just occurred—traffic hadn’t yet backed up and no sirens could be heard heralding imminent assistance.
I had the weird sensation that I’d been running to the accident all along. I held his C-spine and monitored his neuro status while an off-duty paramedic managed the scene. Unexpectedly, a cardiologist I sometimes work with emerged from a nearby café and held his fingers to the man’s radial pulse, and then several more off-duty paramedics arrived.
It seemed fortuitous to me at the time—not the accident, of course, but the proximity of medical personnel who were so quickly available. And I had the impression that, despite not having worn a helmet, the motorcycle rider would be okay. He was talking to me, after all, and I didn’t see any obvious deformities or signs of severe injury.
About a week later, with the motorcyclist (and a shred of doubt) in the back of my mind, I glanced through the obituary section of the local paper. I should say that I almost never read the newspaper. When I do, I don’t look at the obituaries. And yet, on this rare occasion, I saw that not only had the motorcyclist succumbed to his injuries several days after his accident, but also that a patient with whom I’d developed a friendship several years ago had died, and that his memorial service was the following day. Read the rest of this entry »