Since you’re reading this, you obviously have a concern for your child’s well-being and safety. Some things are worth repeating.
We’re physicians, and a couple of things make us cringe as we drive down the highway or maneuver through the streets of our city. The first is to pull up beside someone in a closed-up car and watch as the driver puffs on a cigarette, exhales a cloud of carcinogens into their vehicle, and then turns to say something to their two-year-old in the back seat. What are they thinking? The answer has to be that they’re not. It’s one thing to make the decision to pollute your own lungs, but your child’s? That’s a hard thing to see, and disturbingly cringe-worthy.
The other thing is even worse. Much worse. One of us witnessed an example of this just a few days ago. We’ll let him tell his story.
It was a Monday morning, a little before 8 o’clock, and I was on my way to the clinic. I was driving behind a small sedan, trying to keep a safe distance behind the female driver. That wasn’t easy, as she unpredictably slowed down and sped up on the two-lane country highway. The road was too twisting to try to pass her, so I resigned myself to being cautious and exercising as much patience as I could muster. It was during one of those slow-down spells when I noticed the toddler in the back seat. At first I couldn’t be sure, but when the little boy moved from one side of the car to the other, I knew. He wasn’t in a car seat or even a seat belt. He was unrestrained—a disaster waiting to happen. My patience evaporated and I wondered what I might be able to do to protect him. I glanced beyond the sedan, knowing we were approaching a stop sign. The driver must have been unfamiliar with the road and didn’t expect the upcoming intersection. Almost too late, she slammed on her brakes, swerved from side to side, and came to sudden stop a few feet from the sign. I hadn’t been watching the car, just the boy in the back seat. He had been standing in the middle of the car when she slammed on the brakes and the boy was violently thrown forward. He bounced off the back of the woman’s seat then caromed toward the front passenger side. His arms went out and he somehow grabbed the passenger head rest, held on for dear life, and managed to avoid going through the windshield. The driver looked into the rear-view window, caught my eye and shook her head. Then she looked down at the boy. He was wide-eyed and seemed about to burst into tear, but apparently unhurt. She started laughing and I watched as he gave her a nervous smile and they drove away.
That was a near-miss. I looked down and realized I was white-knuckling the steering wheel. It wasn’t out of fear for my own safety. It was the memory of something that happened a few years earlier.
7:30 p.m.
The crew from EMS 2 had just rolled their stretcher into the ER, carrying a young man who didn’t appear to be in any distress.
“Auto accident at the intersection of Mt. Gallant and Celanese,” the paramedic told me. He tilted his head to the young man and added, “Just a few scratches and a sore shoulder, nothing bad.”
His partner pulled me aside and spoke quietly. “EMS 1 is bringing the woman from the other vehicle. She’s okay too, but her baby…” He paused, looked at the floor, and shook his head. “Her baby’s not okay. It’s going to be tough.”
Two highway patrolmen approached the nurses’ station and dropped their notebooks on the counter-top. They told me what had happened.
The young man EMS 2 brought in was an eighteen-year-old college student. He had been travelling west on Celanese Road and had a green light through the busy Mt. Gallant intersection. Heading into the intersection on Mt. Gallant was a young mother driving a late-model SUV. For whatever reason, she didn’t see the red light and barreled through the crossroads. The college student slammed on his brakes but couldn’t help T-boning the SUV, causing it to spin three hundred and sixty degrees before flipping and landing on its side. The young woman was gripping the steering wheel—wild-eyed and screaming. But she was safe—restrained by her seat belt and shoulder harness.
Her three-year-old son had been sipping a Coke, sitting in the middle of the back seat, unbelted and unrestrained. At impact, he had been thrown against the back left door, breaking his left upper arm. As the van spun violently, he was thrown across the back seat and into the passenger-side window. The force with which he struck the glass was enough to break it and his neck. When the SUV flipped over, he was ejected from the vehicle and landed fifteen feet away in the middle of the intersection. The first-responders found him in a pool of blood—no pulse and no respirations. His mother screamed in the background.
The patrolman finished telling me this story and the ambulance doors opened. EMS 1 silently pushed their stretcher past the nurses’ station and down the hallway.
“If only. Those must be the two saddest words in the world.” ~ Mercedes Lackey
…
This is an excerpt from the new book I’m writing with pediatrician Dr. Robert Alexander. The book will address 100 questions from parents regarding their children’s health. Feel free to email us with questions: askthedox@yahoo.com
Add Comment