“Speed kills!” throw in a few advertisements targeted at drunk driving, tiredness and speed targets and where do I find myself . . . ? Being escorted by three police officers through the hospital at 06:00.
I did not think that a combination of alcohol, sleep deprivation and excessive speeding would result in a family reunion so soon. I was young, full of bravado and enthusiasm to get out and discover new things. I had the world at my feet with the opportunity to choose which path to follow and many undiscovered journeys ahead, or so I thought . . .
She often tries not to think about the cold, dark, metal fridge-like shelf that my warm, shroud- wrapped body was placed prior to shutting the door on me.
A lady sits at her computer typing my story for a short story competition. Why does she remember me? I never got to speak to her, yet she spoke to me, providing comfort and reassurance that it was okay to close my eyes.
She sat with me while we waited for the police to arrive, she remembers every detail about me. What time I presented in the early hours of the morning to the hospital following a car accident, intubated and requiring surgery. Scrubbing and assisting the surgeons with my surgery as they worked tirelessly trying to repair the injuries I had sustained. Participating in CPR as I crashed on the table. And she recalls vividly when the anaesthetist called time of death and cleaned my lifeless body in preparation for my family to sit with me and hold my hand.
Her shift ended by accompanying me with the police to the mortuary and she often tries not to think about the cold, dark, metal fridge-like shelf that my warm, shroud- wrapped body was placed prior to shutting the door on me, thereby eliminating the warmth, sun and joy of life that I would never get to experience again. I was 16 years old, too young to die.
— Katherine Megchelse is a clinical nurse specialist with 25 years’ experience.