Chris DiGiuseppi's Blog, page 11
June 25, 2011
INTERVIEW WITH MIKE ANGLEY
Retired Air Force Colonel Mike Angley's interview with The Light Bringer Authors – http://childfinder.us/blog/
June 24, 2011
June 14, 2011
Tragic Stories of Texting and Driving
The tragic stories of texting and driving – http://on.mash.to/g50zih
The Light Bringer Book Excerpt #9
Alan stepped closer to the table to see what Andrea was examining and immediately saw the three large, black marks across her back. They resembled deep bruises.
"What's that?" asked Alan.
"Hmm, don't exactly know yet. You two said that you suspect an overdose?"
"Just a guess," replied Clint.
"Looks like some type of deep bruise. There's some kind of blistering on the surface. Let me get a closer look." She positioned the scalpel and slowly made a shallow pass over one of the marks.
The flesh separated and widened to show a deep, black gash. Andrea turned and grabbed a small penlight sitting on the tray next to the table. She directed the beam down into the open wound and drew her head closer in an attempt to further examine it.
She shook her head. "Looks like a burn, cauterized perhaps. It's very deep."
"So it was something hot, something that burned her?" asked Alan.
"No. It was something cold—very cold, almost like frostbite. Like it crystallized and deadened the tissue. I've never seen anything like this."
She moved the flashlight closer so that the end was only half an inch away from the surface of the gash. Alan peered over her shoulder and saw something that made him gasp. The beam of light streaming from the bulb was being absorbed—as if it were being sucked into a vacuum.
June 7, 2011
The Light Bringer Book Excerpt #8
"There has to be evil so that good can
prove its purity above it."– Buddha
As Alan pulled up in front of the rundown apartment he noticed a beat-up Chevy parked out front. Calling in the plates, he confirmed that it was indeed Mary's car. He approached the front door and was about to knock when he discovered that it was slightly ajar.
He pushed it open and called out, "Hello, anyone here?"
No response.
He called in once again, "Police officer, anyone here? Everyone okay?"
Again, no response.
Drawing his gun, he held it down at his side and stepped through the threshold of the doorway. His heart began to pound faster. He peered around the corner into a small living room where he saw a couch, TV, and a coffee table littered with food, beer cans and newspaper. As he moved closer he noticed remnants of a burnt, crystallized substance in an ashtray, along with a syringe and a clear glass tube with a charred end. He made his way into the kitchen, which was in the same state of disarray as the living room. He turned and entered a small hallway. Pointing his gun straight in front of him, he once again called out, "Police officer, anyone here?"
There was no reply.
He headed to the end of the hallway, where a bedroom door stood open. Alan entered and observed a man and woman lying on the bed.
"Hello," he called out to them. "Police officer. Is everyone okay?"
Neither of them moved nor responded. He made his way over to the woman and placed two fingers on her neck to locate a pulse. As his fingers made contact with her skin, he drew his hand back quickly. Her neck felt like a block of ice. He once again attempted to find a pulse, shocked by how cold her body was. Unable to locate any signs of life, he quickly turned his attention to the man's body. His skin was freezing also.
Alan's adrenaline rose. Something's wrong, he thought.
"Something's very wrong," he said aloud.
May 31, 2011
The Light Bringer Book Excerpt #7
I'm not letting go, not this time. It's not about me this time, he thought.
He started rocking back and forth, swinging the chain to gain momentum. His arms were completely numb but he kept rocking. Once he had reached the point where they were very near the stairwell, Ross flung Emily toward Alan. As she hurtled forward, Alan caught her hands and held on just as Ross's legs slipped from the chain link and he plummeted downward. On his descent he saw the levels that they had climbed rushing past him and a cold, dark mist began to burn his face.
He knew he was going to fall into the darkness. It was closing in on him…
May 27, 2011
TORNADO IN JOPLIN – ER DOCTOR'S ACCOUNT
45 Seconds: Memoirs of an ER Doctor
from May 22, 2011.
My name is Dr. Kevin Kikta, and I was one of two emergency room doctors who were on Duty at St. John's Regional Medical Center in Joplin, MO on Sunday May 22,2011.You never know that it will be the most important day of your life until the day is over. The day started like any other day for me: waking up, eating, going to the gym, showering, and going to my 4 00pm ER shift. As I drove to the hospital I mentally prepared for my shift as I always do, but nothing could ever have prepared me for what was going to happen on this shift. Things were normal for the first hour and half. At approximately 5:30 pm we received a warning that a tornado had been spotted. . Although I work in Joplin and went to medical school in Oklahoma, I live in New Jersey, and I have never seen or been in a tornado. I learned that a "code gray" was being called. We were to start bringing patients to safer spots within the ED and hospital.
At 5: 42pm a security guard yelled to everyone, "Take cover! We are about to get hit by a
tornado!" I ran with a pregnant RN, Shilo Cook, while others scattered to various places, to the only place that I was familiar with in the hospital without windows, a small doctor's office in the ED. Together, Shilo and I tremored and huddled under a desk. We heard a loud horrifying sound like a large locomotive ripping through the hospital. The whole hospital shook and vibrated as we heard glass shattering, light bulbs popping, walls collapsing, people screaming, the ceiling caving in above us, and water pipes breaking, showering water down on everything. We suffered this in complete darkness, unaware of anyone else's status, worried, scared. We could feel a tight pressure in our heads as the tornado annihilated the hospital and the surrounding area. The whole process took
about 45 seconds, but seemed like eternity. The hospital had just taken a direct hit from a category EF-4 tornado.
Then it was over. Just 45 seconds. 45 long seconds. We looked at each other, terrified, and thanked God that we were alive. We didn't know, but hoped that it was safe enough to go back out to the ED, find the rest of the staff and patients, and assess our loses.
"Like a bomb went off. " That's the only way that I can describe what we saw next. Patients were coming into the ED in droves. It was absolute, utter chaos. They were
limping, bleeding, crying, terrified, with debris and glass sticking out of them, just Thankful to be alive. The floor was covered with about 3 inches of water, there was no power, not even backup generators, rendering it completely dark and eerie in the ED. The frightening aroma of methane gas leaking from the broken gas lines permeated the air; we knew, but did not dare mention aloud, what that meant. I redoubled my pace.
We had to use flashlights to direct ourselves to the crying and wounded. Where did all the flashlights come from ? I'll never know, but immediately, and thankfully, my years of training in emergency procedures kicked in. There was no power, but our mental
generators, were up and running, and on high test adrenaline. We had no cell phone service in the first hour, so we were not even able to call for help and backup in the ED.
I remember a patient in his early 20's gasping for breath, telling me that he was going to
die. After a quick exam, I removed the large shard of glass from his back, made the clinical diagnosis of a pneumothorax (collapsed lung) and gathered supplies from wherever I could locate them to insert a thoracostomy tube in him. He was a trooper; I'll never forget his courage. He allowed me to do this without any local anesthetic since none could be found. With his life threatening injuries I knew he was running out of time, and it had to be done.
Quickly. Imagine my relief when I heard a big rush of air, and breath sounds
again; fortunately, I was able to get him transported out. I immediately moved on to the next patient, .an asthmatic in status asthmaticus. We didn't even have the option of trying a nebulizer treatment or steroids, but I was able to get him intubated using a flashlight that I held in my mouth. A small child of approximately 3-4 years of age was crying; he had a large avulsion of skin to his neck and spine. The gaping wound revealed his cervical spine and upper thoracic spine bones. I could actually count his vertebrae with my fingers. This was a child, his whole life ahead of him, suffering life threatening wounds in front of me, his eyes pleading me to help him.. We could not find any pediatric C collars in
the darkness, and water from the shattered main pipes was once again showering down upon all of us. Fortunately, we were able to get him immobilized with towels, and start an IV with fluids and pain meds before shipping him out. We felt paralyzed and helpless ourselves. I didn't even know a lot of the RN's I was working with. They were from departments scattered all over the hospital. It didn't matter. We worked as a team, determined to save lives. There were no specialists available– my orthopedist was trapped in the OR. We were it, and we knew we had to get patients out of the hospital as quickly as possible. As we were shuffling them out, the fire department showed up and helped us to
evacuate. Together we worked furiously, motivated by the knowledge and fear that the methane leaks could cause the hospital could blow up at any minute.
Things were no better outside of the ED. I saw a man man crushed under a large SUV, still alive, begging for help; another one was dead, impaled by a street sign through
his chest. Wounded people were walking, staggering, all over, dazed and shocked.
All around us was chaos, reminding me of scenes in a war movie, or newsreels from bombings in Bagdad. Except this was right in front of me and it had happened in just 45 seconds . My own car was blown away. Gone. Seemingly evaporated. We searched within a half mile radius later that night, but never found the car, only the littered, crumpled remains of former cars. And a John Deere tractor that had blown in from miles away.
Tragedy has a way of revealing human goodness. As I worked , surrounded by devastation and suffering , I realized I was not alone. The people of the community of Joplin were absolutely incredible. Within minutes of the horrific event, local residents showed up in pickups and sport utility vehicles, all offering to help transport the wounded to other facilities, including Freeman, the trauma center literally across the street. Ironically, it had sustained only minimal damage and was functioning (although I'm sure overwhelmed).
I carried on, grateful for the help of the community. At one point I had placed a conscious
intubated patient in the back of a pickup truck with someone, a layman, for transport. The patient was self- ventilating himself, and I gave instructions to someone with absolutely no medical knowledge on how to bag the patient until they got to Freeman.
Within hours I estimated that over 100 EMS units showed up from various towns, counties and four different states. Considering the circumstances, their response time was miraculous. . Roads were blocked with downed utility lines, smashed up cars in piles, and they still made it through.
We continued to carry patients out of the hospital on anything that we could find: sheets,
stretchers, broken doors, mattresses, wheelchairs—anything that could be used
as a transport mechanism.
As I finished up what I could do at St John's, I walked with two RN's , Shilo Cook and Julie
Vandorn, to a makeshift MASH center that was being set up miles away at Memorial Hall.
We walked where flourishing neighborhoods once stood, astonished to see only the disastrous remains of flattened homes, body parts, and dead people everywhere. I saw a small dog just wimpering in circles over his master who was dead, unaware that his master would not ever play with him again. At one point we tended to a young woman who just stood crying over her dead mother who was crushed by her own home. The young woman covered her mother up with a blanket and then asked all of us, "What
should I do?" We had no answer for her, but silence and tears.
By this time news crews and photographers were starting to swarm around, and we were able to get a ride to Memorial Hall from another RN. The chaos was slightly more controlled at Memorial Hall. I was relieved to see many of my colleagues, doctors from every specialty, helping out. It was amazing to be able to see life again. It was also amazing to see how fast workers mobilized to set up this MASH unit under the circumstances. Supplies, food, drink, generators, exam tables, all were there—except pharmaceutical pain meds. I sutured multiple lacerations, and splinted many fractures, including some open
with bone exposed, and then intubated another patient with severe COPD, slightly better controlled conditions this time, but still less than optimal.
But we really needed pain meds. I managed to go back to the St John's with another physician, pharmacist, and a sheriff's officer. Luckily, security let us in to a highly guarded pharmacy to bring back a garbage bucket sized supply of pain meds.
At about midnight I walked around the parking lot of St. John's with local law enforcement officers looking for anyone who might be alive or trapped in crushed cars. They spray painted "X"s on the fortunate vehicles that had been searched without finding anyone inside. The unfortunate vehicles wore "X's" and sprayed-on numerals, indicating the number of dead inside, crushed in their cars, cars which now resembled flattened recycled aluminum cans the tornado had crumpled in her iron hands, an EF4 tornado, one of the worst in history, whipping through this quiet town with demonic strength. I continued back to Memorial hall into the early morning hours until my ER colleagues told me it was time for me to go home. I was completely exhausted. I had seen enough of my first tornado.
How can one describe these indescribable scenes of destruction? The next day I saw news coverage of this horrible, deadly tornado. It was excellent coverage, and Mike Bettes from the Weather Channel did a great job, but there is nothing that pictures and video can depict compared to seeing it in person. That video will play forever in my mind.
I would like to express my sincerest gratitude to everyone involved in helping during this
nightmarish disaster. My fellow doctors, RN's, techs, and all of the staff from St. John's. I have worked at St John's for approximately 2 years, and I have always been proud to say that I was a physician at St John's in Joplin, MO. The smart, selfless and immediate response of the professionals and the community during this catastrophe proves to me that St John's and the surrounding community are special,. I am beyond proud
To the members of this community, the health care workers from states away, and especially Freeman Medical Center, I commend everyone on unselfishly coming together and giving 110% the way that you all did, even in your own time of need. St John 's Medical Center is gone, but her spirit and goodness lives on in each of you.
EMS, you should be proud of yourselves. You were all excellent, and did a great job
despite incredible difficulties and against all oddsFor all of the injured who I treated, although I do not remember your names (nor would I expect you to remember mine) I will never forget your faces. I'm glad that I was able to make a difference and help in the best way that I knew how, and hopefully give some of you a chance at rebuilding your lives again. For those whom I was not able to get to or treat, I apologize whole heartedly.
Last, but not least, thank you, and God Bless you, Mercy/St John for providing incredible
care in good times and even more so, in times of the unthinkable, and for all the training that enabled us to be a team and treat the people and save lives.
Sincerely,
Kevin J. Kikta, DO Department of Emergency Medicine
Mercy/St Johns Regional Medical Center, Joplin, MO
May 25, 2011
Book Excerpt #6
The three of them began walking. After about fifteen minutes the hallway split. Taking the rightpassage, Alan led everyone forward. The floor descended for a while before it began to level out once more as they came to a dead end.
"Let's go back," he said to the others with a tinge of disappointment in his voice.
They all began the longwalk back as Amy started to panic. "I'm sorry. I've caused this. I've caused all of this," she said as she attempted to push past Alan.
He grabbed her arm, "It'll be okay. Just stick close." He loosened his grip and grabbed her hand instead.
"Let's check out the other way," suggested Simmons.
As they approached the place where the hallway had split Alan noticed that the opposite passage led upward. They began climbing. As the hallway ascended and the grade became rather steep their pace slowed. Once they reached the top of the slope the floor became level once again. They continued, slowing to catch their breath from the climb. The smooth, black surface of the marble walls reflected their distorted figures like a mirror that had been twisted and bent to alter its reflection. After about ten more minutes of walking, Alan could see the faint outline of a door reflected at the end.
"There. I told you we'd make it."
He glanced at Amy, who now wore a look of relief on her face.
Alan reached for the door handle. As he was about to open it, Simmons yelled, "No, don't open it!"
May 20, 2011
KINDLE GIVEAWAY BEGINS TODAY
See www.seekreadblog.com for details – Kindle giveaway begins today!
