Page 18 of Jessica and the Jarhead
“I’m here.” She was out of breath as she unwound the sled from her waist. “What happened? What do you need?”
Jess crouched down in front of me to look me over and I could tell the moment she saw the trap and the blood spreading out red on the white snow.
“It’s an old bear trap. I need you to step on those levers on either side of it, release it and get my leg free.” I pointed to the levers in questions and prayed that they would work and aren’t stuck.
“Ok, I see them.” She grabbed the nearby tree for leverage and then slowly stepped on the levers on either side of the trap. I grunted in pain when the teeth pulled free of my leg, but still moved my leg around to assess the damage.
“We need to stop the bleeding.” Adrenaline and pain were warring with clear thought, and I couldn’t move to make it happen.
Jess bent down in front of me to wrap her scarf around my leg and tie it tight over the wounds. She looked determined, and pride filled me at the sight. She was brave, always had been.
“Let’s get you on the sled.” She reached out to help me slide over to where she had positioned the sled.
“Will you be able to pull it?” I wasn’t sure if she could, but it would be easier than trying to balance and hobble back to the cabin.
“I think so,” she said as she wrapped the rope around her chest, “for once in my life, I’m glad I’m not small.”
“Oh, angel,” I whispered as she grabbed her poles and moved forward. Sure enough, she could pull me back to the cabin, picking up speed as we went.
By the time we reached the cabin, the pain had dulled to a low throb. Jess pulled me up to the porch support closest to thefront door and then came around to my other side to help me stand.
With her help, I hobbled into the cabin and collapsed on the couch.
“In my bag, there’s a kit with a red cross on it. Bring it here.”
She did as I asked and then went to the kitchen and filled the largest pot she could find with water and set it to boil. When it was done, she brought it over to me and unwrapped my wound.
“I think normally, you wouldn’t unwind something that was bleeding, so you don’t disturb the clots, but it’s just us out here. Sorry if it hurts.” It hurt, but I did my best not to show it.
“You seem to know what you’re doing.” She bent over my leg and took stock of what she found instead of answering me. “I’m pretty sure I need stitches. I don’t know how deep the punctures go, but it felt pretty deep.”
She picked up a clean rag and began dabbing at the skin around each wound. The cuts circled my leg like a cuff and would likely leave several scars.
“I’m sorry, but I need to clean the actual wound now.”
“In my bag is iodine and sealed supplies for stitching. You should cut away my pant leg,” I said, giving her directions, though she didn’t seem to need them.
“Found it.” She pulled on gloves and arranged the equipment on a clean towel.
“You’ve done this before,” I couldn’t help saying as she laid everything out.
“Stitch someone up? No.” She shook her head firmly.
I chuckled, “Not stitches, but caring for someone like this.”
She shrugged and looked down for a moment before redirecting her attention to cutting away my pant leg. It was a few moments before she spoke again.
“I came across an accident once,” she said slowly, hesitantly, “A car had hit a woman. Her body flew a whole car’s lengthbefore landing. There were children were standing around her, crying and screaming. They were hers.” Her voice hitched, and she took a deep breath before she continued. “I didn’t know how to help her. So, I stood there with her children while the ambulance came. I didn’t know what else to do.”
She stopped again. My pant leg was gone. She just sat there for a moment with the scissors in one hand and the strip of my pants in the other. I reached out to her and touched her arm. I regretted asking if it was this hard to answer. My injury meant that I couldn’t pull her into my arms like I wanted, but I could offer the small comfort of knowing she wasn’t alone.
“She died before they even got her to the hospital. Apparently, she had some severe internal injuries and there was nothing anyone could do, but I just kept thinking about how I couldn’t do anything.” Her voice wavered at the admission.“So, I took a class, and then another, and then some more. I’ve not had to use the skills before today, but I learned them just in case.”
She looked at me then, silent tears carved paths into her face. Her eyes were bright with more tears.
“You didn’t do nothing,” I said. “You made sure those children weren’t alone at the worst moment of their lives. If her injuries were as bad as you say, then you couldn’t have saved her, but you did something. Something very important.”
She nodded, but said nothing. More tears flowed along the same path as before. Oh, my angel. How does she not see how amazing she is?
