Rescue

When I come to, my face is planted into the dashboard and blood is dripping from my head. I watch droplets of it dribble down my pants leg and gather in a puddle between my legs.

My right arm is dangling, bent in more places than just the elbow and shoulder. The pain is paralyzing. The combination of the radio blaring and screaming from the back of the car startles me.

Lifting my head, I see Emily slumped over the wheel, and fragments start to piece together like a good mystery. We were heading to camp: Emily, Frank, and I. Frank must be the one screaming in the back seat of the car. I wish he’d stop.

Rescuers are trying to get to us, but the doors are locked, and the driver's side of the car is tightly pressed against the tree we must have hit.

“Are you okay? Can you open the door?” So loud—the yelling, the radio, Frank’s screams for help, and now Emily is spitting mad, cursing up a storm.

Then silence at least for a moment. Someone has reached in the window, turned off the car, clicked open the door, and taken Emily out. I hear people talking to Frank, and now someone is talking to me.

****

We are participating in an intense three-day Wilderness Medicine Associates recertification course for Wilderness First Responders. The setting at YMCA Camp Pepin is ideal, and the camp directors, Erik and Emily, are knowledgeable and kind.

I’m thrilled to be staying in a cabin named Faith. After a full day of learning, with harrowing simulations—of car wrecks, people falling from the high ropes course, a roofing incident where a screwdriver gets lodged into the roofer's upper thigh and their coworker is unconscious with what appears to be a broken neck—the solitude of the cabin is welcoming.

But it’s not all blood and trauma. Upon waking in the morning, the first thing I see is Lake Pepin, a wide spot in the Mississippi River. To my surprise, agates dot the beach, along with many clear quartz rocks which I hand-pick while an eagle in a nearby treetop watches my every move. I assure it that I’m not taking any of the fish it’s counting on for dinner!

Last night, after spotting small morel mushrooms in the field by the lake, we marked them with plastic cones so they could grow without being trampled, but there were too many to mark them all. This morning we’re all walking gingerly across the grass, eyes cast down. No one wants to crush a priceless morel.

It’s time for breakfast. We’ve discovered that learning brings on a huge appetite and hopefully burns extra calories. Erik’s meals are well thought out and delicious, and even include homemade ice cream.

****

Four people are scattered in the field. We grab our packs full of first aid supplies, along with our pocket notepads to keep track of important information, and off we go.

We assess each of the “victims” for three minutes. Each has been assigned a malady, as we were earlier in our car crash scenario, and our job is to figure out what could be wrong: a kidney stone, dehydration, an allergic reaction, thrush foot, hypochondriasis (such as in homesick kids at camp), diabetic coma, or giardia from unfiltered water. The list is long and varied.

Wilderness First Responders are trained to respond to emergencies in remote locations. The training involves sizing up the scene (level of safety, number of people needing help, mechanism of injury); making a primary assessment of the circulatory, respiratory and nervous systems; and doing a secondary assessment that includes a physical exam, SAMPLE history (symptoms, allergies, medications, pertinent history, last ins and outs, events), and vital signs.

****

Driving home, exhausted yet excited, I notice I’m more aware, more cautious. I’m driving slower, paying attention to the other drivers, keeping my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel.

When I get home, I’m thinking about the next hike with friends, the next backpacking trip, the next vacation, and going over scenarios and rescues. But I also know that even though we were trained for remote locations, all the accidents and illnesses we prepared for could just as easily happen at home.

I vow to be more careful. I vow to do the best I can in any rescue situation.