Road death emphasizes need for safety

Spectrum

J.R. Wiederholt

I am an emergency medical technician in the Matanuska- Susitna Borough. Two weeks ago, I and my crew responded to what I can only describe as a horrific single-vehicle rollover accident.

As I understand it, a small black car, driven by a young man in his early 20's, was racing some friends in another vehicle along Big Lake Road. At speeds likely in excess of 100 miles per hour, the young man lost control of his car, striking the ditch so hard as to leave an impact crater of considerable size. The vehicle cart-wheeled and barrel-rolled several times through a stand of birch and alder, eventually coming to rest so far off the roadway as to be almost invisible from passing traffic.

The young man was violently ejected from the car, either through an open door or window. Mere moments after the crash, my ambulance crewmate found him some 40 feet ahead of the car's path.

It appeared as though the driver might have struck a large tree when ejected from the car. He was unconscious. His breathing was labored and irregular. His eyes revealed the ominous signs of a severe, closed head injury.

My crew (and bystanders, some of whom were this man's friends, themselves involved in

the "race") rapidly back-boarded him and placed him in the ambulance. It was here that I had my first, and what will be my only, meeting with this soft-featured young man - really just a boy.

We tried very, very hard to help him. We breathed for him, we monitored his heart and other vitals. We summoned a Life Guard helicopter to transport him to Providence Hospital. We did everything our training demanded of us.

I have since learned that his brain injuries were too great. That nothing we, or the hospital staff, could have done, would have saved this boy from the consequences of just a few seconds of carelessness. His brain was irretrievably injured.

Ultimately, God has placed other demands upon this boy's future.

At some point in my EMS career, I learned to cope with such things on an emotional level. To accept the brutal reality of self-inflicted injury, and worse, with some measure of self-preserving objectivity and dispassion.

Yet this tragedy, for this boy, was truly different for me. Maybe its because I have three sons of my own.

In any case, and while I've seen this sort of thing before, what strikes me as so ironically terrible was how universally "uninjured" this boy had been. Had it not been for the head injury, there appeared nothing more serious than bumps bruises, and scratches, all things to heal and get over.

Had this boy been wearing his seat belt, I know he would be alive today. His friends would not, as they must, feel some measure of responsibility.

They would be seeing him this weekend. They would know his friendship, his companionship and spirit surely for many years.

His parents would not now bear the grinding pain that only a parent feels when a child is lost. If he had only slowed down. If he had only worn his seat belt.

Please, please, accept the word and counsel of those of us who've seen this mind-numbingly horrific picture too damn many times. Slow down. No appointment is worth your life. Wear your seat belt.

Your life, and those who love you depend on it.

J. E. Wiederholt is an Anchorage resident who works in the Valley.