This morning, as I was driving to work, I had to slow and swerve for a young deer with a broken leg in the roadway. It was standing and trying to walk, but one of its front legs was clearly broken. I had to slow to nearly a stop, and I locked eyes with it. Fear and panic.
I pulled over and called 911 and reported it to the local police. They said they'd send someone right out.
I continued to drive to work. I possessed no means to help the deer, either by trying to fix it or by compassionately dispatching it. I don't know what the police chose to do after they arrived.
I was instantly transported back to 1981. I was a young Marine MP at Camp Pendleton, CA. I was standing guard duty at one of our northern-most gates, working the graveyard shift. When my shift ended, a van came from the Provost Marshal's Office with my replacement, and I got aboard to be driven back to PMO to turn in my weapon and stand down. I-5 bisects Camp Pendleton, north to south. As we drove south on I-5, we saw a car that had gone off the southbound I-5 road and into the ditch between north and south. We pulled over and ran over to the car.
The car had hit a tree, but the tree had bent and then broken; the broken trunk had impaled the driver from beneath the car. When I got to the driver's side, there was only the driver and so much blood. He was bleeding out from the groin area, impaled by the broken tree. His face was covered with blood and his eyes were rolling around. We locked eyes and I saw his fear and panic. We locked eyes. It was just like the deer. I was helpless to do anything for him. I tried to reassure him that help was on the way, but he was beyond hearing me and didn't acknowledge me. He just stared at me and died.
Being helpless and not knowing what to do is hard. Very hard. And it makes me feel deep guilt.
We train our minds and bodies to defend ourselves. But we will all die, and we probably won't know what day that will happen or how. Maybe how we live is as important as that we live.
Life is precious. Perhaps because it ends, not in spite of it.
That's all I have to say at the moment. Memento Mori. Peace to all.
I pulled over and called 911 and reported it to the local police. They said they'd send someone right out.
I continued to drive to work. I possessed no means to help the deer, either by trying to fix it or by compassionately dispatching it. I don't know what the police chose to do after they arrived.
I was instantly transported back to 1981. I was a young Marine MP at Camp Pendleton, CA. I was standing guard duty at one of our northern-most gates, working the graveyard shift. When my shift ended, a van came from the Provost Marshal's Office with my replacement, and I got aboard to be driven back to PMO to turn in my weapon and stand down. I-5 bisects Camp Pendleton, north to south. As we drove south on I-5, we saw a car that had gone off the southbound I-5 road and into the ditch between north and south. We pulled over and ran over to the car.
The car had hit a tree, but the tree had bent and then broken; the broken trunk had impaled the driver from beneath the car. When I got to the driver's side, there was only the driver and so much blood. He was bleeding out from the groin area, impaled by the broken tree. His face was covered with blood and his eyes were rolling around. We locked eyes and I saw his fear and panic. We locked eyes. It was just like the deer. I was helpless to do anything for him. I tried to reassure him that help was on the way, but he was beyond hearing me and didn't acknowledge me. He just stared at me and died.
Being helpless and not knowing what to do is hard. Very hard. And it makes me feel deep guilt.
We train our minds and bodies to defend ourselves. But we will all die, and we probably won't know what day that will happen or how. Maybe how we live is as important as that we live.
Life is precious. Perhaps because it ends, not in spite of it.
That's all I have to say at the moment. Memento Mori. Peace to all.