9 Years Past My Shelf Life
I came to on the basement floor. Tara, one of my co-workers, was holding my hand. I’d been out for about ten minutes? I don’t remember being in pain, but I sure as hell wasn’t gonna move.
I really don’t remember how long I was down there total. At some point they got me strapped to a board and took me out a back door from the basement to go around the house and to the front, where the helicopter was waiting. I was together enough to reel off a few phone numbers to my boss, Jimmy. How to get in touch with my girlfriend and my mom.
I was in the air in the helicopter, flat on my back. The attending paramedic was a sweet woman. Comforting, but I could certainly sense concern. She did a really good job keeping me calm by just talking to me.
In the midst of this conversation she asked, “Have you ever been in a helicopter before?”
“No, I haven’t. Do you think you could prop me up so I could look out the window?”
(I heard a bit later that there was actually a small pool of blood under my head on the concrete floor where I fell.)