Fellow humans,
Today is story time. Pay close attention. At the bottom of this post, underneath “Until next time” and my name, will be a picture of a bloody, gross, dying man. If you don’t want to see, you can still read the story, but make sure to scroll very slowly, and don’t scroll below the final paragraph and my name. The picture will be part of the “P.S.”
Yesterday I witnessed someone die. I don’t know if the medics/hospital were able to revive and stabilize him later, but he died on the scene. He was unresponsive and alive when I first saw him, but he eventually took his final gasp for air while I was about 3 feet from him. If you want to see the picture before reading, you can scroll to the bottom. That’s what I saw when I approached him.
Most evenings, I take a puff of weed, and then ride my bicycle around New York City. Yesterday was no different. As I approached the bike trail, I stopped to put on music, and then continued riding. I paused my music 52 seconds later when I saw a man lying in a pool of his own blood on the bike trail, not moving.
Imagine someone slowly falling over on a bike. Bike on top of his leg and everything. That’s basically what he looked like. Except his head was lying in a giant pool of blood, blood coming out of his ear and mouth, and he was occasionally gasping for air (unconsciously) while gurgling blood. He was not breathing normally. After about 3-5 minutes, he took his final breath (which startled me), and turned purple.
Speculating on the details of the crash, based on how the scene looked — he likely lost control of his bike at high speed, fell over, and smashed his head on the concrete curb. Only one person actually witnessed the crash, but they weren’t close enough or paying close enough attention to see exactly what happened. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, which is unfortunate. I don’t usually wear one either, but yesterday I was, and will continue wearing one.
Three civilians were already on the scene when I arrived, but no medical people. As I approached on my bike, I stopped my music and asked if he’s dead. They didn’t know, and other than one guy on the phone with 911, they weren’t really doing anything. We didn’t know what to do. I crouched down next to him, and tried talking with him, but he was unresponsive.
This particular bike/walking trail is quite busy around this time (7:30pm), especially when the weather is nice. Shortly after me, people continued passing by — some stopping and trying to help, some looking and moving on, some not even looking, and one person had his video camera on us for most of the time.
As people were passing by, I was asking if they were medical professionals. One guy said no, but proceeded to check the man’s pulse. At first the guy said he had a pulse, but not after checking again. I continued asking people. After about 10 people said no, finally someone said yes.
The man got off his bike, and put down the kickstand. I don’t know exactly what or who he was, but he seemed like a doctor, because he was super calm, and immediately knew what to do. He (doc) said we should turn him to his back, so we can start chest compressions, because he was no longer breathing.
This was now happening about 3 minutes after he took his last breath. God must have sent the doc. If the man survived, it’s because first and foremost the doc showed up. Timing is so crazy — both my music situation and the doc showing up minutes after the man stopped breathing. Had I not felt the urge (probably from God) to stop my bike and play music at that exact moment, I might have missed the entire incident, and would have been unable to help.
Picture coming after 3 more paragraphs, so scroll slowly if you don’t want to see.
A small number of us worked together to turn his body. I was the lucky one to handle his head, mostly because the other guy seemed hesitant to get blood on his hands, and we had zero time to waste. As we turned his body, I noticed the other side of his head, and his injury was very severe. I could see his skull.
The doc started chest compressions, and didn’t stop until the fire department (FDNY) arrived. The first chest compression caused blood to basically erupt from his mouth. The man started getting normal color back in his face, but was still unresponsive. Another man showed up, offering to help with chest compressions if the doc got tired, but the doc was a champion.
FDNY showed up in numbers — put an oxygen mask on him, put him on a stretcher, and took him away. After FDNY gained control of the situation, I went to a nearby pond to rinse the blood off my hands, and then to a nearby restroom to scrub with clean water and soap. The ambulance had the sirens on as they left, so maybe that’s a good sign. Hopefully he survived, but we may never know.
Until next time,
Salvatore Norge
P.S. — Was checking my phone for the time, so I figured I would quickly snap a picture.