An Ambulance Ride

Experiences make us strong especially when those experiences taught us important lessons in life. These experiences come in different packages; sometimes they bring us joy; at times they teach us invaluable lessons; and most of the times they make us wish they never happened at all. I have had my shares of life experiences: happy, wonderful, memorable, enriching, disappointing, sad, and difficult. And because these experiences are sometimes sad, difficult, and disappointing, there is one experience I would never want to happen twice in my life. I still remember the day I rode at the front seat of an ambulance. It was Daniel’s (my nephew) third day in the ICU at MCU Hospital. He had been in comatose for three days and when he finally woke up, the doctors allowed us to transfer him to the Philippine Heart Center where we had already made arrangements for his transfer. At 4:30 in the afternoon on February 2 last year, I took the ambulance ride which was my first and hopefully the last. Beside me was my brother-in-law while my sister was at the back together with two doctors, a nurse, and two medical assistants; all from MCU Hospital. I could still see the frantic look on my sister’s face as we began the trip, slowly at first. Daniel was on a manual respirator and it was really difficult for he was having seizures and the slightest discomfort could cost him his life. Barely five months old, his small body could hardly take what was happening to him. As we drove along EDSA, my heart thumped like the beatings on a drum. The siren was non-stop, and so was the honking of the ambulance’ horn. I could feel my blood rushing inside me, my face turning red, and my head swelling. I wished I could swear but I couldn’t. I wished I could just go down and stop all the cars slowing us down each time I hear my sister shriek when Daniel stopped breathing. I wished I could wring the necks of the insensitive drivers who tried to overtake and slow us down as we looked flushed and hopeless inside the ambulance. All I could do at the time was to plead God to let us arrive in time at the PHC. The 15-minute ride felt like eternity. As Daniel was carefully lifted up to the stretcher and rushed to the emergency room where the head of the pediatric section was already waiting for him, I uttered a silent prayer thanking God that Daniel made the short trip from MCU to PHC. As darkness slowly engulfed the atrium where I was waiting for my brother-in-law, I could still feel the rapid beats of my heart. It was almost midnight when we were allowed to go inside the ward. Only then did my heart’s rapid beats begin to subside. (tvvillaflores-22/01/09)