I called 9-1-1 for the first time in my life on Sunday. Thank goodness they continuously reiterate that number in your mind starting when you’re 3 because in the heat of the moment I was lucky to remember my own name.
On Sunday my friend Lauren was in town for work. I told her about a beach I’d heard of in Sausalito that had black sand and we decided to check it out. The beach is located in a beautiful area with cliffs overlooking the bay and long, windy one-way road to get there. As we left (we drove separately) I was driving (still on a one-way road) and there was an old, historic, dilapidated fort on my left. As I was coming to it I saw what looked like something falling off the roof of the fort. I couldn’t tell right away if it was a person or someone just throwing a coat down, but I pulled over. As soon as I opened my car door I could hear a kid screaming. Without thinking about it I grabbed my phone out of the console and started running in that direction. Another man beat me there and he was standing over a child that was very obviously in pain and bleeding from his chin. I volunteered to dial 9-1-1 and started dialing before I even got agreement from him. This man’s sig other came over while I was calling, who was thankfully a former EMT, and shortly thereafter the child’s mother. The mother wanted to move the son and the EMT lady and I both in unison shouted, “NO!” unsure of what kind of injuries the boy could have since he was obviously in pain. As the San Francisco emergency responders transferred me to Sausalito I ran back to my car to grab my big beach towel, realizing the kid was shivering.
The Sausalito emergency responders asked a bunch of questions about the fall as they dispatched their crew. Within 10 minutes they had a park ranger, followed by two fire trucks, an ambulance, and two emergency rescue vehicles were on the scene. They were quick to put the boy in a neck brace and make sure he could move all his limbs. They cut up his shirt and pants to make sure nothing was broken. By the time they left they were hopeful he was more scared than hurt and would probably just need stitches in his chin.
After I left I called Dubs, since she lives in Sausalito, to replay the event for her and tell her she was in good hands with the Sausalito medic team. We joked about me being a Good Samaritan and being in the right place at the right time.
When I got home there was a man in my parking garage that started walking towards my car when I pulled in. I sat in the car for an extra minute as I watched him to see what he needed. I got out of my car and he quickly introduced himself and his apartment number. He explained that his car was dead and was hoping I could give him a jump. Naturally I moved my car over to his, happy to help, and his car started on the first try. I guess I was in the right place at the right time…twice. Or else the universe is trying to tell me something about becoming a superhero.
Posted on November 12, 2013, in Life in 'Frisco. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.
See, you are a super hero! FarmGirlHipster by day, Robyn by night! (wait, those two things happened during the day… wtv)
It reminds me of that discussion you and I had when I was in SF, about wether someone is a “flight or fight” kinda person. You’re def a “fight” person!