Hello friends,
This wasn’t a vacation experience I had expected to share, but it’s about bravery and resilience. A different kind of strength. It’s about things that happen in life and how we deal with them.
On the 3rd day of a 6 day vacation, we packed lunch, gathered towels, reef-safe sunscreen, and snorkel gear, and headed to Coral Bay on the eastern side of the island of St. John, U.S. Virgin Islands. We hit the crazy steep winding roads for a 30 minute drive from our rented house in a quiet neighborhood in Cruz Bay, to meet up with the wonderful, experienced skipper, my brother-in-law’s brother-in-law. We had a lovely time together on the water on our trip last year, so we were anticipating another perfect day.
Disclaimer, I’m not a snorkler, having found out many years ago (even as a strong swimmer) that floating over deep water triggers some primal fear in my brain that sets off panic. I think it’s something like vertigo but in water…but I digress…
We sailed to a cove where there’s an amazing array of sea life, and my sister, and sister’s hubby quickly popped on snorkels and fins and paddled away. I was happy to watch, along with my other sister who, when we found out that there was a recent shark attack at a nearby island, decided not to go in the water either. Even as a newbie, Michael was game to snorkel last year, and he was really looking forward to this trip, so he went down the ladder and jumped in too. My sister and I admired them as they swam way, but…
Immediately after landing in the water, floating backward, Michael matter of factly yelled, “I cut my leg.” Watching the water around him turning slightly pink (we thought of that shark!) and quickly pulled him in.
As we hauled him back into the boat, blood spurting from both legs, we began triage, grabbing gauze, bandages, and mopping up pools of blood on the boat. Really, pools.
Putting my trauma training to the test for real, I mentally knew what to do, with plenty of experience taking care of many scary, often severe wounds with 6 kids (4 boys, one of whom was frequently injured in cycling crashes), I felt prepared, but this was way more intense. Pushing thoughts of worst case scenarios of out of my head I went to work, my sister right there with me, afraid of sharks but not fazed at all by much of anything else.
Blood was everywhere, and my hands trembled as I unwound the gauze and pulled the gaping edges of the gash together. Self talk, “you got this, you know how to do it.” “Calm the F down and breathe!” Pressure on the other spurting inner thigh wound, bandaging both wounds, pressing here, pulling there. Inexplicably one wound is on the front of the left calf, and on the inner thigh of the right leg – did he hit the femoral artery? He has no idea of how it happened. Apparently it’s a common design of little hooks that hold the ladder, but both legs front of one and inside the other? We’ll never know.
Michael was brave and funny, telling knock knock jokes (in shock for sure), sailing back to the dock, got him on the stretcher, loaded into the ambulance, and sped to the clinic, up and down those incredibly narrow, steep, winding roads. If you’ve been to these islands you KNOW. The posted speed limit is 10, and the ambulance was passing cars at 45. The whole time the EMTs were cracking up with Michael while I held on for dear life.
Finally, after what felt like the longest, bumpiest 30 minutes, we were met outside the clinic by the amazing staff of 4 nurses and the doctor.
As the lidocaine was injected over and over again, squeezing my hand so hard, he said, “OK, ok! I’ll tell you where the money is!” Maybe it was still shock, but humor works as a great distraction from 35 staples in one leg, and 4 sutures in the other leg. One of the nurses (who also has 6 kids) calmly said, “this looks like a nice fillet”!
We’re grateful to the empathetic and efficient EMTs, and the wonderful care of the nurses and the physician at the Myrah Keating Smith Community Health Center in St John, USVI. You guys rock! What I had thought was possibly going to mean a medi-vac trip by boat to a hospital in St Thomas, was calmly and efficiently taken care of within a couple of hours. A reminder that sometimes things look worse than they really are. Bad enough, for sure, but not as serious as we all thought at first.
I’m pretty proud that even really frightened, I trusted my training, and was able to dig down to a calm, capable, professional place and take care of biz (I honestly think it sometimes does take a mom).
I’m proud of Michael for being a great patient enduring all those lidocaine shots, staples and sutures, and in the days afterward taking it in stride, and enjoying the rest of the vacation.
It’s a kind of strength that we can all access in times of stress.
We’re back home now, and looking forward to going back again next year. Michael says he’s definitely going snorkeling because he missed out this time!
x
Polli
