That’s what I imagined the title would be if an article were written about her. I didn’t know her name. I didn’t know her background story. It wasn’t the kind of patient death I was used to. I typically know why my patients code, or why they pass. I usually know the background story of their life, and I get to know them. But this one hit me differently in the heart. I didn’t know a single thing about her. I don’t even know if she was homeless, but looking at her disheveled clothing and overall appearance, it was unlikely that she had access to a home.
It was my first day of work and I was driving on I5 North, right before Tukwila when I saw her body get struck by the van in front of me, and flip into the adjacent lane. Luckily no one else had hit or run her over. I pulled over as quickly as I could when I realized that it was not a jacket that flew out of a car. I ran back with my stethoscope to check on she was doing. I checked her heart rate, her pulse, and watched her take in agonal breaths. (death breathing).
Luckily someone pulled up with a first aid kid that had gloves, and I checked her body for any obvious wounds. The wound that I knew would cost her her life was the one directly to the back of her head where she struck concrete. Her hat laid next to her filled with gelatinous red goop. Her black messy hair tangled around the wound. It wasn’t looking like anything was going in her favor. I stayed with her while someone was on the phone with 911, awaiting paramedic and police arrival. Another nurse was with me watching her breathe. We kept yelling to “stay with us,” “it’s going to be okay.” I kept providing sternal rubs to try and keep her awake. Nothing came from her mouth except froth. I tried to check her capillary refill but her fingernails were so blackened, like she had been cold for so long. Every moment that passed, my heart broke a little more.
This woman with no name and no story was dying in front of me, surrounded by traffic instead of family. Surrounded by strangers and not friends. By the time I was handed a police report for my statement, the paramedics had secured her to a stretcher, and I watched her be taken away. I cried and I shook as I watched her leave. I would never know the outcome, but I knew deep down inside that it would be hard to bring her back from a head trauma that severe. Her pupils fixed and dilated. Gasping for breaths.
The image haunts me at night. The image plays in the back of my mind as I drive down the freeway. My eyes scan the street for where her blood was now washed away by the PNW rain. People say I was meant to be there in that specific moment, for her. Some people say that I could’ve been the thing between life and death. But the only thought I have left of her is her image and her blood stain on my white sweater. The only thing I have for her, is my prayers that wherever she is, she’s at peace, and hoping that all the people are right about her being okay.