Left for Dead

A trauma victim came into the emergency room in the early hours of the morning the other day. He was clearly drunk, mentally challenged, and he had just gotten out of prison. He had been badly beaten – his eyes were swollen shut, he was missing teeth, he had broken glass in wounds all over his arms and legs, and a huge gash in his scalp which was bleeding badly. We stopped the major bleeding, made sure none of his other injuries were immediately life-threatening, and then began the arduous task of cleaning and mending his every laceration.

The most disturbing thing of it all was that, as far as we could piece things together from the police, this assault had happened several hours ago. The police found him unconscious in a pool of his own blood, hours after the nearest bar – which he had been seen at – had closed. It seemed his assailants beat the heck out of him, and simply walked away as he lay on the asphalt, with a slow, dark red pool forming underneath him. He wasn’t exactly dead, they must have known, but maybe, with enough time, he would get there. Fortunately for him he was discovered and brought to us.

I’m not quite sure which is worse, really – the physical abuse of someone, or the walking away. Because walking away necessitates being fully aware of the suffering and therefore fully aware of the solution, and yet choosing to do nothing about it.

When you are left for dead – and I pray it will never happen to you – you end up with a lot of time to reflect. “Time on my hands, could be time spent with you” quoth Sir Elton John. It turns out he knows what he’s talking about.

And what have I done with that time? Gone for walks. Starred out the window. Drank way too much. Had bad thoughts. Drank again. And again. And through it all I keep asking myself – how are you not watching? How is it that I’ve been left for dead? Like that man on the street I lay still, drunk, unable to move, with the blood slowly filling in the spaces between me and the cold pavement. It’s nice to know my blood is so warm.

And all I can do is wait patiently for the police to come, and bring me to some over-worked trauma resident to mend my wounds and stop the bleeding. I hope it happens soon.