Good Samaritan or Crazy Person?

Recently, I was minding my own business driving to the library when something caught my eye. Two people were making unnatural movements on the sidewalk along the side of the library.  It took a minute for my brain to translate what my eyes were seeing. First, two women fighting.  Second, a lot of blood.

I don’t know what other people would’ve done, but after the last realization it all clicked and I stopped the car, almost pulling to the curb. As I got out, the other women ran and got into the passenger side of the truck in front of me and sped off (she must’ve heard of me and my bad ass reputation)!

I got to the bleeding woman and asked her what I could do, not realizing the severity of the situation.  She sat down on the grass and said call 911.  She didn’t even say it sarcastically or with a condensing tone with which I would have expected from such a stupid question.

I ran back to my car to get my phone and called 911.  I ran to the hatchback and grabbed the wipes that had been left by Emily on her last visit.

I applied pressure to the deep gash above her eye.  Blood was everywhere, it was pooling on her chest. The 911 dispatcher asked me a lot of questions and I relayed the information between the girl and her. That is how I found out the reason for all the violence.  Amanda said the weapon was metal, like a pipe or a wrench.  She had broken up with her boyfriend and the new girlfriend had accused her of stealing clothes.  Sounds like a solid reason for attempted murder to me.

I continued try to comfort her, telling her the ambulance was on it’s way and then she would be okay.  I said we should listen for the sirens (exactly what I was saying to Allison the night of the seizure). She seemed to be breathing strangely.  I told her over and over to breath slower and deeper.  Every baby wipe I applied to the wound filled right away.

10 minutes and 100 bloody wipes later, I finally heard the sirens.

Revealed, I left her to the EMTs.  I picked up the blood soaked wipe and her purse and carried them to the ambulance.  Then I had to run back because I realized I had put my phone in her purse.

I didn’t realize how shaken I was until I started to write a statement and my hand wouldn’t stop shaking. I was writing illegible nonsense.  I told the police officer I wasn’t making any sense.  He was really kind and asked if I just wanted to take it home and he would pick it up.  The thought of the police coming to my house and having to prolong this nightmare propelled me into tough mode and I said I would start again, but first let me melt into a pile of tears.  It took me a few minutes, I recovered, stopped shaking and wrote down what I had witnessed.

A little bit of reflection…no one stopped to help us in the ten minutes we waited for the ambulance!  We couldn’t have been missed!  Amanda with blood pouring down her face and me, propping her up with bloody tissues surrounding me on the grass. I really could have used the help.

I was back home telling the story to Allison when I realized something.  What if when I jumped out of the car, the woman with the weapon came after me?  What if the driver of the car jumped out with a gun and shot me? The list of bodily injuries that could have been delivered on me was massive!  It was like the time recently when a woman and her dogs were being attacked by a pit bull in the street.  I did the same thing! Stopped my car and jumped out to help. Just what the hell was my plan?  Get ripped to shreds along with the dogs and their owner?

If a situation like this happens again, I am going to try to park, STAY IN CAR and dial 911! I may have gotten away with being a good Samaritan this time, but next time I might be a dead person.  I hope it doesn’t take me being killed to realize this.

 

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