After we go off duty, I run over to his house and help him lug his stuff 7 stories down to the parking lot. We knock out a quick round of rock-paper-scissors (which, incidentally, is how many decisions are made on the squad) and I jump behind the wheel for the first part of the drive.
12 hours later, I'm still driving. He's racked out in the seat next to me, no doubt dreaming of a world where our patients never have maggots on them and GI bleeds smell like roses.
As I drive through Albuquerque on Interstate 40, I see a bunch of brake lights blink on a quarter mile ahead of us. It's after midnight, and while there is some light roadway maintenance work going on, there's no obvious reason for the whole freeway to come to a standstill.
A minute later I make it to the bottleneck.
A midsize sedan has rear-ended an 18 wheeler, and the tow truck operator is preparing for the vehicle recovery. Or so it appears. A quick survey of the scene reveals that there is no EMS, fire or law enforcement presence. No flares, no cones, nothing but a lone tow operator that's clearly overwhelmed.
The tow truck has clearly happened upon the wreck, which has just happened. Outstanding.
I wake Vince up, and he groggily tells me that another crew can handle the wreck. I tell him we're off duty and he really needs to wake up. After a moment of confusion, he realizes what's happening.
I pull the car behind the cones separating the construction work zone from the freeway and get out of the car.
The scene is pretty contained and presents as a relatively simple incident. We have a passenger vehicle vs a standard 53 foot big rig trailer hauling electronic goods for a major retailer. The truck driver is uninjured, and the driver of the sedan has self extricated through the hole left by the roof being sheared off of his car. The truck driver states that he was stopped at the time of the collision, and the lack of skid marks from the sedan, coupled with the extensive damage to the car, seem to suggest that the sedan was traveling at highway speed.
The tow operator's dispatch had already advised the appropriate folks of the incident, so I don't bother calling 911.
We approach the patient and hold C-spine. As I begin my assessment, an unmarked Crown Vic screeches to a stop next to the tow truck with it's stealth lights blazing. I figure it's Albuquerque PD or New Mexico State Police, but to my surprise and dismay, a 40-something lady in street clothes jump out and says, "I'm a retired EMT, how can I help?"
Great. A 'retired' EMT? What does that even mean? And why is she in a cop car?
Whatever. She hands me gloves, and my opinion of her markedly improves. She also had a c-collar, which was helpful.
So back to the assessment. The patient is a male in his mid-thirties who is alert and oriented to person, place, time and event. He admits to recent alcohol consumption, and complains of ear pain. Physical exam reveals that his left ear is nearly torn in half, but is otherwise unremarkable. Had he been sitting upright, he would have been killed. Since he was slumped over in a drunken stupor, though, his ear was turn in half. The luck o' the drunk, I guess.
Vince walks up to the destroyed sedan to make sure there's nobody else in the car, and get an idea of the mechanism of injury. Ha. So while he pokes his around around the wreckage, I start talking to the patient. He wants to call his mom and let her know that he's okay, so I dial his phone for him, as his drunken finger fumbling wasn't very productive.
While the patient cries to mom, a New Mexico State Trooper pulls up and rolls his window down.
"Howdy. What's going on here?"
"Not too much. One patient, minor injuries."
"That's it? Okey-doke. We've got a fatal outside town, and I need to get to that. APD will be here when they get here."
Before I can reply, he's off like a flash. Great. So we still have no flares, no cones, and a couple of unequipped first responders. Thank God we at least had the tow driver and 'retired' EMT directing traffic.
As the trooper beats feet away from the scene, Vince walks back up. The patient is telling him mom that he almost made it to Louisiana, and Vince's eyes go wide.
"He's altered! Louisiana?!?" I laugh and point behind Vince at a large road sign:
(Not my picture - originally posted at crosscountryroads.com)
Funny stuff.
So fire and EMS show up, followed by a couple APD units and another trooper. I gave a quick report, and faded into the background.
I'm not typically one to stop, unless A) I witnessed the wreck, or B) ALL of the following are true:
1) There are no responders on scene
2) There are obvious injuries (or a significant mechanism. Snicker.)
3) It is safe for me to do so.
In ten years, I've stopped at a total of 4 wrecks. There have been a few that looked legit but were unsafe to stop at, so I made 911 calls giving the accurate location and a brief size-up based on what I saw while passing the scene.
The other three I've stopped for are interesting stories in their own right, so look for those in the future.
As Vince and I got back on the road, we laughed about his mistake on the whole altered-Louisiana bit. We also talked about the retired EMT. She was very eager to please, and wasn't nearly the nuisance I initially thought she would be. But still... why the undercover cop car?
The rest of the trip was uneventful, and thankfully we never came across the fatal that NMSP had told us about as he flew through the scene.
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