It was the morning of Mother's Day and I was prepared for the wrong emergency.
My town was hosting their annual 5K run, and I had just joined my town's volunteer ambulance corps after graduating EMT school. Part of me was sad I was not going to be spending my morning with my mom, but I was excited to gain my first bit of clinical experience. In order to avoid the traffic of incoming racers, my team left for the site early. As we were preparing to leave, we were relaxed. Our crew chief had assured the two teams that the corps were requested by the town administration to be at the race mostly for their peace of mind and that past "emergencies" had been fainting spells triggered by dehydration and overexertion. He was right, there were to be no emergencies that day, not at the race. However, as we set off for the road, almost immediately we received a dispatch for a motor vehicle accident that had occurred on the other side of town. Though both teams were right next to each other on the road, a decision was quickly made that my team would continue to the race. Not long after, however, our team was dispatched for backup. Confused as to why we were being requested, as the other team was already on their way to the hospital with the patient, and there were no other injured persons, we arrived on scene to a pool of blood staining the middle of the street, and no people to be found. I hustled over to the police car, expecting to find answers as to why we were being requested. I opened the side door to find a small, maybe 8-year-old girl, staring in front of her with an expressionless face. Caught off guard, I introduced myself and was about to ask her what she was doing there when I realized that even though she had turned to look at me, her eyes did not seem to actually be paying attention to me at all, her mind was elsewhere.
I eventually found out from the police that the girl and her mother had been walking across the street when a driver struck the mother. I found out later from my friend who had been in the other rig that though they initiated CPR as quickly as possible, they could tell almost immediately that the situation was too dire to be fixed. My team had been requested to transport the daughter to the same hospital the mother was taken to because of police protocol. The girl was not speaking to anybody, and I, specifically, was requested to sit in the back of the ambulance with her because she was Korean, as am I, and it was unclear whether she would use Korean or English if she at any point wanted to speak. She never did choose to speak with me. Once in a while she would look toward me in a sort of questioning way, but I found myself unable to think of what to say. Though I knew the answer to her likely question, I did not feel equipped to answer.
As a current second-year medical student, I often think about that time. Though I had just graduated from EMT school and was at my most booksmart, and had spent that morning specifically preparing for a day of potential emergencies, nothing could have prepared me for what actually happened. I have come to realize that though I can, and should, aim to be as prepared as possible for emergency situations, there will always be events in both my professional and personal life that I will have no control over. As I continue to wrestle with that, I will always remember that small girl in the back of the police car. Though I could not find words for her, I aim to be able to for my future patients.
When we left the hospital that day, the drive back to the race was silent, and we returned to the race as it was beginning to end. I watched as a mother and daughter held hands as they walked across the finish line, and right away I requested to go home early. I spent the rest of the day with my mother, the most grateful I have ever been to have her in my life.
Sarah Kim is a second-year medical student at Cooper Medical School of Rowan University in Camden, NJ.
Illustration by Diana Connolly
