Friday nights are perfect for hanging out with your buddies and partying, maybe going a little nuts. It’s just innocent goofing off, all fun and games… until someone wraps a car around a lamp post and the three amigos are pulled from the wreckage.
Well, first, there’s the dead one. He never had a chance. The impact tossed him around for a few seconds, until he was ejected. He landed 30 feet from the car. There was no life left in him to salvage when the cops arrived.
Then there’s the organ donor. He was driving. By the time the medics got him out, his body and brain were already giving up. They kept his body alive long enough to get him to the ER. Then we were able to keep him alive long enough to gather the family. Mom, dad, and little brother look shell shocked this morning. Grandma’s still crying. There’s about thirty friends with tear-streaked faces loitering about in the hallways. People are asking each other, “How could this happen?”
Easy peasy, I want to reply, Take three young men who believe that they’re special immortal snowflakes, add a case of beer, and the keys to dad’s sports car. Voilà. Instant wreckage.
Instead, I walk past, head down, in respectful silence.
Finally, there’s the spoilt brat. There’s always one. He has a couple of extremity fractures and the delightful attitude of Verruca Salt. He appears to be doing his best to antagonize the nurses. Periodically, you’ll hear him bellow from across the ward, “Nurse! I want some water! Nurse! Where’s my food, I’m hungry! Nurse! Gimme my pain meds!”
I wonder if he’s confused and believes that he’s at Burger King. You don’t get to have it your way in the hospital, buddy.
Perhaps, for now, he thinks he’s the special-est snowflake of them all. But eventually, even he will melt into nothingness.