I was used to being the one giving the orders, but I’d trained these paramedics. They didn’t need orders from me. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done, watching them take care of Jacob, realizing there was nothing I could do. Earlier that night, examining the kids, I’d felt almost normal, as if I was still a doctor, still had something to contribute. But now, bouncing in the back of the ambulance, watching others take care of a man I loved, I realized how empty my future had become. The only thing I could do was hold Jacob’s hand. He somehow managed to remain conscious, clutching my fingers, squeezing them as if trying to get a message to me. With his jaw fracture and facial injuries, he couldn’t speak. He was lucky he was able to still breathe on his own. The overhead exam lights flashed off metal trauma shears as the medics efficiently stripped him naked, applied their monitors, started two IVs, one in each arm, and assessed his injuries. During the intricate choreography, I had to let go of his hand twice.
