Ch-- and I are sitting at a red light at 106th Street and Second Avenue when the dispatchers calls.
"Manhattan to 18 Young"
"!8 Young, central" I answer
"18 Young take it over to 104th Street and the FDR for a motorcyclist down"
"10-4 Central . We're 63 (responding to the call)
Ch-- hangs two rights and we're traveling northbound up Third Avenue. Plan is to get on the FDR at 116th Street and head south. We enter at 116st and already the traffic is backed up half a mile. Fortunate for us this part of the highway actually has a sidewalk. Over the curb we go and are at the scene in about three minutes.
"18 Young 10-88 (on the scene)"
"18 Young 10-4. Be advised you have 15 Willie coming up from the south"
"10-4 central. Will advise"
Pulling up we see a motorcycle laying on its side in the middle lane. About twenty feet further on we see a man standing against the spiked guard rail, bent over at the waist. Its now just about dark and even with the passing car headlights it's hard to see. He looks to be trying to pick something off the floor. Charlie and I approach.
"Sir," Ch-- calls out, "are you OK?"
The man lifts his head and looks at us. His skin is ashen gray and he is sweating profusely.
"I gotta get this" he answers, gasping
Ch-- and I are about five feet away from him now.
"Holy shit, Ch--! Holy fucking shit" I stammer to my partner. at that close distance I was able to finally see what it was the patient was trying to pick off the pavement. It was a loop of his intestines!
"Rocco, grab him I'm going to get the long board and stretcher". Ch-- yells and runs back towards the ambulance. I'm standing there holding the guy up while he struggles with me to continue to grab at his now filthy intestines laying on the roadway.
Ch--'s back in an instant. With difficulty we lay the guy down on the stretcher. It's then we see the extent of his injuries. The patient is ripped wide open from just above his groin to just below his breastbone. I mean wide open to where we could see all the organs in his abdomen.
Just then 15 Willie pulls up. Ray comes running over
"Hey guys, whatcha g... Holy Shit!" Rays eyes are big as saucers to match mine and Ch--. Now we were all seasoned medics, Ch-- and Ray more than me. We've seen things that would turn a brunette gray in minutes. The guys injuries were terrible but we've seen severe injuries like this before. There was one small difference, though. This guy was still alive! That's what it was that was freaking us out so much, he wasn't dead!
We strapped the patient onto the stretcher. 15 Willie's vehicle was closer than ours so we placed the patient in the back. Ch-- jumped in to assist 15 Willie's crew member. I followed them to the trauma center. By then he was unconscious. Half hour later he was gone.
I waited outside for Ch--. He came out, opened the passenger door and sank into the seat.
I turned to Ch--
"That was unfucking believable" I said still astonished
"Holy shit! How that guy lived that long? I can't believe it", Ch-- replies
"What happened on the way in?" I ask my partner
"Well we gave him oxygen, popped two I.V.'s in him. All the way in he kept asking Am I Going To Die? Am I Going To Die?. It took every ounce of my strength to stop from yelling YES ! YOU ARE GOING TO DIE"