Yosemite, in dramatic fashion, changed my life.
Labor Day Weekend 2017. 50,000 people in the valley, I’ve got no wilderness pass and no reservations. Naively, with this being my first trip, I had no idea how busy the park would be and thought I could find a place to sleep. I did two loops around the valley and decided to leave the park taking Big Oak Flat Road towards San Fran.
Driving by Camp White Wolf I decided to stop and see if there were any sites open for the night. As you’d expect, there was nothing. Now, this is where it gets crazy; I’m at the intersection of Big Oak Flat Road and I can go left and continue in the direction I was going or, I could go right and head back to the valley. Something possessed me to go right, knowing full well I was not going to find anything for me there.
About 20 minutes from the valley a severe storm rolls in with high winds and rain. Just as I come around a corner I see a 110 foot tall pine tree fall and crush a car right in front of me. The tree fell down the long axis of the car completely crushing the passenger compartment.
The circumstances of what brought me to Yosemite are significant and are almost as dramatic as the events that took place that Labor Day.
I am a Special Operations Independent Duty Corpsman a lay person would understand this as a Special Forces Medic. The 3 months preceding my trip to Yosemite was spent in a Shooting Package with Force Recon, in preparation for an upcoming deployment.
During the training I had an explosive sympathetically detonate in my hand which did significant damage. I’ll spare you the details but it was a freak accident where one planned detonation produced enough heat and overpressure to detonate the explosive in my hand. Pretty not fun.
Despite the injury, I returned to training up to and immediately following surgery; a decision I regret. As you’d expect, when the training package concluded I needed a break and really needed to heal, mentally and physically. I cannot overstate the state of disrepair I was in. The Friday before I left I was cleaning gear out of my jeep and as I held my med bag to return to my locker, I thought out loud and said “I’m going to Yosemite this weekend, I should probably keep it with me”.
With my hand unhealed and the universe guiding me, I watched the tree fall.
As I got out of my jeep and slowly approached the vehicle the first observation I made was that the damage to the Prius was overwhelming. My immediate thought was that there was no way anyone was inside.
My heart sank when I realized a man and his daughter were outside the car screaming frantically. I realized someone was still in the car.
I looked into the drivers side window and saw the man’s wife unconscious and unresponsive, leaning into the center console. I shifted my eyes to the back and my vision narrowed; a small boy (later determined to be 4 years old) was crushed into his booster seat. He was bent forward at the waist, his right temple was on the outside of his left knee.
I entered the vehicle through the rear driver side window. I immediately assessed the mother, manually adjusted her airway and gave her a rescue breath, she started breathing. I directed bystanders to be careful of her head and neck and get her out of the car.
I was now focused on the little boy. I had to squat the roof off his back in order to move him safely and not do further damage. His lifeless body melted into my arms. (have since had a baby boy. This part of the story makes me particularly emotional).
I immediately assess his radial and carotid pulse; very strong. This boy is fighting for his life. Despite a solid pulse he is not breathing. I tried to open his airway and squeeze in a rescue breath but no response. His jaw was locked.
As I’m making these efforts, the roof is slowly being crushed further by the weight of the tree.
I hand the boy out the window and exit myself and immediately take him back. I am now 100% focused on getting his airway open. I gradually increased my application of strength to get his jaw open, to the point that i thought his jaw was going to break. Finally! It opens, it is completely occluded with blood and vomit. I removed the obstructions and and send another rescue breath.
He arches his back and lets out a crying scream like a newborn baby. The relieve I felt brought tears to my eyes then and does now.
I spoke to dispatch after I heard a bystander call them and say “i think the little boy is dead”. I said “give me the phone”. I relayed patient disposition and stated “I do not recommend ground transport. They need to be flown out of here”.
The only questioned they asked was “who are you?”.
As I was assessing the mother, who was breathing but unresponsive, I thought to myself “man, I’d kill for a BVM and a cervical collar”… and then I remember I had my freakin med bag!
I was managing care and using a Spanish speaking bystander to translate what I was doing to the father and daughter. Heartbreakingly, they were on vacation in Yosemite visiting from Mexico.
12-15 mins later paramedics arrived. I left in the ambulance with the little boy and continued assisting in treatments.
Within mins of us arriving at the Helo Landing Zone, a Life Flight Helicopter was arriving from Modesto Children’s Hospital. Dispatch had listened to me. They requested a helicopter immediately.
Much happened after that event. I went on to get a camp site in Upper Pines. I spent that night and the following 5 in the wilderness reflecting on the events that day. My hand still had stitches in it.
I’ve attached a few pics, hopefully they upload.
