Chat
09-22-2010, 12:13 PM
Came to a deserted gas station, area around it was clear. Went inside the store, there is a woman with a several lacerations on her right arm, leg, & side; she is not moving. She is white, brown hair, skinny, 5"6," wearing khaki shorts & a short-sleeve shirt. Next to her is a baby girl, maybe 10 months old, brown hair, blue eyes, wearing a diaper & a pink t-shirt with "Daddy"s Angel" on it. The baby isquietly playing with keys. I reached down to check her pulse; it is thready at best. I send my son to get the medical kit. I begin to gently tap her face & she slowly comes to. She is very incoherent, but after several minutes I am able to piece together what she is saying. She was hungry, went looking for food, pack of dogs attack, protect Risa, made it inside store, dogs left, need help, save Risa, husband come home, it hurts.
As she rambled on, I did a physical exam. One laceration on her arm was fairly deep & showing the beginning signs of infection. The gash on her leg is down to the bone and showing signs of putrefaction; it is also slightly swollen with some tissue already turning black. I take a closer look at the leg wound & see pus oozing; it also has a foul smell. My son comesin with the kit; I take out the thermometer & take her temperature; she has a very high fever. I tell my son to take the baby & wait outside. I search my kit, I have no antibiotics -- they would not help anyway; gangrene has already set in. All I can do is ease her pain & give her comfort. I find a vial of morphine & a needle and give her a lethal dose. I move to put her head in my lap. Her speech is still very fragmented; I gently stroke her head & softly murmur soothing words.
She grabs my hand, looks me directly in the eyes, & very clearly makes me promise to take care of "Marissa" (so it"s not Risa) until her husband comes for her. I promise, she smiles,& thanks me, & her whole body goes slack. I check her breathing & pulse -- nothing. I close her eyes & tears slowly slide down my face. I take a deep breath, lower her head to the ground, & begin to search her pockets for an id. To my disbelief, she has a driver"s license. Her address on the license is only a mile away. I walk out of the store; shake my head in the negative, in answer to my son"s unspoken question.We get in the truck, drive to the house listed on the license. The door is closed, but unlocked. I go in, it's neat. I see a picture of woman, man, & the baby on the end table - I grab it. Walk down the hall, locating the baby"s room, thereis only two diapers & a handful of wipes. I grab both & stuff them and a few clothes into a nearby diaper bag. Walk out, go to the kitchen, on the frig, there is picture of the man, in uniform -- he is in a desert environment. I shake my head & think to myself that if he is in the desert, he has one hell of a journey ahead of him. I grab the picture, turn it over, the date reads 7/15/11 (a small chortle escapes from my lips & I shake my head).I look through the drawers & find paper and pen. I scribble a note to the man, informing him of his wife"s passing & that we have his daughter. I also give him coordinates where I will check every day at noon for him. I put the note up on the frig along with a small picture of me & my son, and open the front door.
As soon as I open the door, there is thick white mist; when I close the door, the mist clears & I am fast-forwarded to 6 years into the future. I am speaking with Marissa &I am explaining to her that she can't come with me because it isn't safe. I leave her with my son. There are other people there; they are with me, can"t really see them as they remain in the background. I get to the location, survey the area & see a man standing in theclearing. It"s Marissa"s dad. I walk into the clearing, calling his name. He turns towards me; he is very guarded & apprehensive -- looks at his hand, up at me, back at his hand, then back at me again & smiles (Marissa has his smile). He looks just like his picture, except now he has a beard. I tell him my name and that Marissa is just wonderful; he smile gets even bigger. We start walking, a million questions about Marissa tumbling from his lips. I smile at him answering his questions. We arrive at camp, my son steps out of the house with Marissa -- they are holding hands. My son looks at me, I nod in the affirmative; he whispers something to Marissa, she smiles, runs towards her dad, & jumps into his arm.
As I look upon the reunited pair -- I think to myself, how am I going to explain about his wife…then I wake up.
As she rambled on, I did a physical exam. One laceration on her arm was fairly deep & showing the beginning signs of infection. The gash on her leg is down to the bone and showing signs of putrefaction; it is also slightly swollen with some tissue already turning black. I take a closer look at the leg wound & see pus oozing; it also has a foul smell. My son comesin with the kit; I take out the thermometer & take her temperature; she has a very high fever. I tell my son to take the baby & wait outside. I search my kit, I have no antibiotics -- they would not help anyway; gangrene has already set in. All I can do is ease her pain & give her comfort. I find a vial of morphine & a needle and give her a lethal dose. I move to put her head in my lap. Her speech is still very fragmented; I gently stroke her head & softly murmur soothing words.
She grabs my hand, looks me directly in the eyes, & very clearly makes me promise to take care of "Marissa" (so it"s not Risa) until her husband comes for her. I promise, she smiles,& thanks me, & her whole body goes slack. I check her breathing & pulse -- nothing. I close her eyes & tears slowly slide down my face. I take a deep breath, lower her head to the ground, & begin to search her pockets for an id. To my disbelief, she has a driver"s license. Her address on the license is only a mile away. I walk out of the store; shake my head in the negative, in answer to my son"s unspoken question.We get in the truck, drive to the house listed on the license. The door is closed, but unlocked. I go in, it's neat. I see a picture of woman, man, & the baby on the end table - I grab it. Walk down the hall, locating the baby"s room, thereis only two diapers & a handful of wipes. I grab both & stuff them and a few clothes into a nearby diaper bag. Walk out, go to the kitchen, on the frig, there is picture of the man, in uniform -- he is in a desert environment. I shake my head & think to myself that if he is in the desert, he has one hell of a journey ahead of him. I grab the picture, turn it over, the date reads 7/15/11 (a small chortle escapes from my lips & I shake my head).I look through the drawers & find paper and pen. I scribble a note to the man, informing him of his wife"s passing & that we have his daughter. I also give him coordinates where I will check every day at noon for him. I put the note up on the frig along with a small picture of me & my son, and open the front door.
As soon as I open the door, there is thick white mist; when I close the door, the mist clears & I am fast-forwarded to 6 years into the future. I am speaking with Marissa &I am explaining to her that she can't come with me because it isn't safe. I leave her with my son. There are other people there; they are with me, can"t really see them as they remain in the background. I get to the location, survey the area & see a man standing in theclearing. It"s Marissa"s dad. I walk into the clearing, calling his name. He turns towards me; he is very guarded & apprehensive -- looks at his hand, up at me, back at his hand, then back at me again & smiles (Marissa has his smile). He looks just like his picture, except now he has a beard. I tell him my name and that Marissa is just wonderful; he smile gets even bigger. We start walking, a million questions about Marissa tumbling from his lips. I smile at him answering his questions. We arrive at camp, my son steps out of the house with Marissa -- they are holding hands. My son looks at me, I nod in the affirmative; he whispers something to Marissa, she smiles, runs towards her dad, & jumps into his arm.
As I look upon the reunited pair -- I think to myself, how am I going to explain about his wife…then I wake up.