Drama In Real Lifereadersdigest.co.in 109was severed. The pelvis holds up
all the vital organs, so when it’s com-
promised, internal haemorrhaging
doesn’t stop.
On top of that, my left femoral ar-
tery was severed. The blood would
run through me and right out again,
over and over. Our bodies hold
roughly 10 pints of blood. That day, I
went through 78 pints—eight bodies’
worth. At times, I had lost so much
blood that there was nothing left for
my heart to pump.
Twelve hours after I’d left for work
that morning, I was stable enough
for Sean to be allowed to see me in
the ICU. I had tubes running into my
nose and mouth. I was bloodied and
swollen. My belly was so distended
that I looked like I was pregnant with
triplets. Sean gingerly took my cut-up
hand in his. He had been by my side
for only a minute when a nurse saw
red fluids staining my gown again.
“You need to leave. We have to keep
working on her. Now!” she said firmly.
He kissed my forehead and said a
quick prayer before being ushered
back to the visitors’ lounge.W
ith the odds stacked
against me, the doctors de-
cided to place me in an in-
duced coma, a life-saving step that
slows down brain function and re-
duces swelling in order to prevent or
lessen brain damage.
During this period, I was in and out
of surgery several times. Once, I wokebegan screaming out orders: “YOU,
STOP TRAFFIC. YOU, HOLD HER HEAD
STILL. YOU, COVER HER ABDOMEN
WITH THIS. Holy ... God. Hang in
there, girl. Hang in there.”
The paramedics arrived—a team of
three women. They began by rolling
my body onto a backboard. Later I’d
learn that for one of them, it was her
first day on the job. In fact, I was her
very first call.T
he ride to the hospital took
about 20 minutes. The dou-
ble doors of the ambulance
opened to the sunlight, and from
there it was straight to the emergency
room, where, for the next eight hours,
I kept dying. I would flatline, some-
one would do CPR and they’d pull me
back from the abyss. They did this
over and over. People had to keeprotating because keeping me alive
was exhausting. At the same time, the
orthopaedic-trauma team was de-
briding my insides—cleaning out
the gravel and rocks and debris. My
stomach was ripped open, my back-
side was ripped open, my pelvic boneI WOULD FLATLINE,
SOMEONE WOULD
DO CPR, AND THEY’D
PULL ME BACK
FROM THE ABYSS.