This morning I did my two mile walk with Jaimito in his jogger stroller. He usually sings to me, babbling and carrying on with a musical tune. He likes music. He's always dancing and singing. The Wiggles, an Australian kids troupe, on the Disney channel are his favorite characters. or the "-ggles" as he says. Today, though he didn't sing, just happily sucked his bottle of juice, pulling it from his mouth to point out sights of interest along the way. We saw trees, palm trees, a cement truck and an airplane. Jaimito loves airplanes, or "a-bi" as he says. I think it's a cross between airplane and avión, in spanish. "A-bo, a-bo," he says turning his head up to me, pointing to a tree. I assume "a-bo" is arbol or "tree" in spanish. Wow, kids sure are good on the economy of language. Such clever creatures. Yeah, Daddy, why do you have all these distinct words. All I need to do is make a sound and point. See? Easy as pie.
Jaimito and I got back from our little walk, and had some breakfast. He loves fruit Kixs cereal. I don't complain, because he can't make a mess with it, and after all, it is "Kid tested, Mother approved." He loves to share with me, digging into the little cup of cereal with his dexterous deditos and feeding me the purple ones. Why purple? I have asked him the same question myself - perhaps when he can talk, he will reveal to me his hidden agenda.
Yogurt is his other favorite. Cereal and yogurt... ah, the stuff of which dreams are made, ahh, but, Daddy, I need some of your cereal too, or actually just the milk.
Daddy likes to eat Honey Bunches of Oats, with chocolate chips sprinkled on top. I'm bad, I know, but little Mr. So-and-so likes to mooch the milk from me. He makes his dramatic "mmmmmmp" sounds and smiles at me after each successful raid into my zone, pushing his pushy wiggle-puss into my bowl. I call him my "Moochie" or "Cachetero" (cheeky-one) on account of his bulging cheeks.
This has become our morning ritual.
After coffee, I checked my email, morning geek news (slashdot.org), world news (www.msnbc.com), and settled into work on Altabox 4.0.
This afternoon, we had a lunch date with a local state senator to build a strategy to communicate our vision for the tech sector with what will be, most assuredly the next governor of Puerto Rico. The rest of the morning was uneventful, and we headed out for our lunch.
I usually drive, because although Laura is a good and competent driver, she's got a lead foot. The new and improved phlegmatic Jim, has become a passive slowpoke, as it is the only way I can feel sane. Thanks Dad. I was pulling out of our sub-division when the car in front of me just stopped. A woman got out and ran across the street. Huh? I honked, what the hell is she doing? And just as I honked, I saw a crumpled shape lying in a ditch on the other side of the street. I pulled to the side, and leaped from the car to screams and clamor.
Apparently there was a slight accident, two cars had hit each other, but caught up in it was an old woman, a pedestrian who was walking along the side of the road. As the two idiots drivers fought and fretted about their situation, the poor woman lay bleeding in a drainage ditch, water flowing freely around her.
I raced over to her, fixated on this poor figure laying in the blood. Is she dead? I didn't see the accident, so I didn't know how severe it was. It wasn't clear exactly what had happened. Did she fall? Was she hit? I reached her limp form, and checked immediately to see if she was alive, breathing. I felt awkward. This stuff only happens in the movies, doesn't it? I was shaking, the adrenaline had kicked in. I couldn't help it. I was mentally calm and in control, but my body had other ideas as it decided to go into crisis mode. The people standing around me are all offered "helpful" suggestions. Don't move her, was pretty much all they could say, I guess they were content to just stand there and gawk while this bleeding woman lay in a ditch.
I touched her shoulder and gave her upper torso a little tug. First thing you do in a crisis is talk to the patient. Find out if they are okay, if they can tell you where it hurts or where they are hurt. First aid is trained frequently in the Army, repetitively, so that in the moment you don't have to think.
Say there's an explosion, your buddy goes down, and you immediately start first aid, checking limbs, tearing open clothes, thinking about tourniquets. "Hey dumbass, I'm fine. Just stunned, check out the rest of the guys." If the patient can talk, they can help you out. Basic stuff, but you'd be amazed how often people forget.
So this woman, was stunned, a little groggy. I recognized her from the first. She's who, growing up in N. Country, St. Louis, we all knew as the "Walking Lady," a woman seen at all hours of the day, in all seasons walking around, going shopping, running all her errands on foot. Here, lying in a drainage ditch was our very own, "Walking Lady," Paquita as she is called. Laura and I wondered if she was homeless, her weathered and somewhat tattered appearance fit the bill. She lives in our neighborhood, however. I see her most mornings as I head out on my morning bike rides. We usually exchange smiles.
I checked her head. Looks okay, she's got a cut across her eyebrow. That's where ALL the blood was coming from. Yeah, I remember those injuries all too well. Cut above the eye bleeds like crazy. You look like Carrie. I check around her head, talking to her. "Does it hurt any where else?" She's still groggy, I can't hear her. "You know me," I say to her, "It's me, from the bicycle. We meet each other every morning when I go out on my bicycle."
She smiled. I smiled back, and imagined myself, this huge gringo covered in blood crouched in a ditch holding this ninety pound little old lady, stroking her head.
I enlisted the aid of a by-stander to move her from the ditch into the shade. I was amazed at how hard it was to lift her small frame out of the ditch. I stumbled and stepped on her hand. I felt terrible about that. Poor thing. A limp weight is hard to lift. Jeez. A worker from the Energy Authority, trained in first aid arrived at the scene. He had his complete first aid kit, oxygen, bandages, blood pressure device, etc. He went to work, while I told her jokes and held her hand. I made her smile as her blood pressure and pulse came back normal. "Ah, as healthy as a twenty year old," I said.
It was super hot in the noon day, equatorial sun. I was dressed for a business lunch, and not only was I drenched in blood, I was pouring sweat like a thoroughbred. A man began to fan me with a piece of cardboard he found on the road. Ah, that felt good.
The ambulance arrived finally, and I got out of the way. They rolled her onto the stretcher and hoisted her up. I stayed with her to see her off. "Paquita, may you get better soon. We'll see each other next week, you walking, me on my bicycle." She smiled and we parted ways.
In the end, I didn't do anything really. I would have been more prepared to do CPR or mouth to mouth, but I felt good for having reacted so quickly and taking charge while everybody else fretted and stood idle, especially the two idiots in the cars that caused the accident in the first place. Like I said, though, I didn't really do anything, but today, the 25th of November 2003, I eased someone's pain and made a new friend.