Most of life is lived un-remarkably. The everyday minutiae fills up 99% of our lives. But we live for that magical, scary, remarkable 1%.

I heard the brakes squeal first, then a dull thud. I looked over and noticed a large plastic bag floating through the air. I was sweating and shirtless, finishing a 45 min run around my neighborhood. I ran a route I've done before but was feeling good and decided to continue a bit further, running downtown an extra 10 blocks. I turned the corner and was running against traffic on the street heading back home. The headlights glared at me as I kept to the left shoulder, confident that the drivers would see me. It was all downhill and I was moving.

I thought it was debris but the truck stopped. Something seemed off. I stopped running and turned off my discman. I looked over again in the street and realized, abruptly, that it wasn't a plastic bag. It was a woman and she was lying in the street, unconscious.

Things happened fast. In my head. Two main competing impulses took over. Keep running, it wasn't what you saw, you don't know what happened, just finish your run and go home. The other, which was running counter to my gut feeling, was the one which determined my actions for the next 15 minutes.

The truck sat blocking all traffic behind it. It was a large red bread truck with a black grate in front of the grill. The left headlight was out. I'm not sure if it was before he hit her. The driver was still inside. I wasn't worried about the truck though as I ran over. She was lying on her side completely motionless in the middle of the street. I wasn't alone for long as a few pedestrians who had also witnessed it soon hurried over. Some of them spoke English.

My training took over at this point. 1. Make sure the area is safe to enter: traffic had stopped, the truck was idling behind us blocking the rest of the cars. The other lane had already started backing up. 2. Check the patient, are you ok? ect...: No response. She was unconscious. 3. Pick someone out of the crowd and point to them, specifically. (You shouldn't just yell out "Call 911" because no one will take responsibility. If you single someone out and look them in the eye and tell that person to call 911 then they will feel compelled to obey.) 4. ABC's. Airway, Breathing, Circulation: I leaned over. The Hispanic man behind me kept telling me not to move her. I was scared. I knew I shouldn't lest she have a neck injury. But if she is not breathing or her heart has stopped, its kind of irrelevant. I leaned over her splayed body and put my ear next to her mouth. The sounds of traffic, the crowd and blood pumping through my ears faded as I strained to hear her labored breathing. She didn't need CPR or rescue breathing.

I was immensely relieved. I truly didn't know what I would have done if she needed it. Most medics I have spoken to have told me they would not give someone mouth to mouth with out some kind of protection, under any circumstance. I hope I would have ignored this advice.

She had small abrasions on her knuckles and forehead but no significant bleeding. Her purse was still hanging off her arm and her ipod headphones were smashed and dangling. Her shoes were nowhere in sight. I have heard that this is common and couldn't believe that it was true. She was knocked out of her shoes. Her left sock had a small hole at the toe. It is suprising the things you notice during times of stress.

I stood up to survey the traffic and to see who was around. The crowd was around 15-20 people and growing. A light rain was falling so I asked for a jacket to drape over her. It was at this point that she started groaning and moving slightly. She rolled partway onto her back but her eyes were still closed. A woman in the crowd wondered if she was pregnant. She didn't really look like she was but the clothes hid her. As she groaned she moved her legs which, in addition to the suggestion of pregnancy, panicked me greatly. Upon taking a closer look it was pretty clear she wasn't. But it was obvious that she was in a great deal of pain.

Someone had put up garbage cans behind us to divert traffic. I have no idea if any cars were even moving at all at this point, all I could see were bright white headlights that illuminated the scene. Though all this I was talking to her, trying to get her to wake up. Once she started moving slightly I grabbed her right hand and held it. She opened her eyes as best she could and looked up at me. I don't think she could focus though. She looked scared. People behind me were talking loudly in Spanish thinking she was Dominican, reassuring her.

She never looked at them. She just stared at me as I told her that she would be ok and that the paramedics were almost here. I squeezed her hand periodically to see if she would respond and she would squeeze back. All that was left to do was wait. Shirtless and wet I kneeled beside her speaking what words I thought would be encouraging. We were bonding in some strange way, she was listening and I was responding. I didn't know the rules, but tried to connect all the same. We were alone together. The people's voices behind me faded and I could only hear myself repeating the same lines and delivering them with all the earnestness I could muster, despite not know if they were at all true. Maybe she wouldn't be ok. Maybe the ambulance was still 10 minutes away. Maybe she would die holding my hand.

She didn't. But she did finally manage to speak. Classically, her first words were "What happened?" What could I say? "You were hit by a truck, help is coming" And help did come, first in the form of a police car which pulled up to help block traffic. The officer got out and stood over her, as helpless as the rest of the crowd. Not long after a fire engine and ambulance showed up. A wave of relied washed over me as the first paramedics walked over. They were promptly yelled at (by the man who told me not to move her in the beginning) for taking too long. The paramedic told the guy to back off, that they had gotten there in under a minute from getting the call.

The medics put a neck collar around her and told her to stop moving her legs. She was struggling against the restraints and becoming more and more coherent. I helped to strap her in while I recounted what I knew.

On the count of three they lifted her from the ground and carried her into the fluorescent bright doorway of the waiting ambulance. I stood up as most of the people cleared away, looking around at the scene for the first time in 5 minutes. I asked the nearest cop if he needed me for anything. He was non-committal saying I could stay if I wanted to put down something for the record and then promptly walked away. I was soon alone, standing where she landed, soaking and starting to feel the rain for the first time. It was coming down now.

I picked up my yellow long-sleeved shirt crumpled and wet from the run and my discman and slowly walked back home.

Those times, that rare 1%, takes up residence in ones memory. Singled out, pared down and edited into a story that begins "Did I tell you about the time..."

Anthony 4:20 PM