Part 8: The Golden Hour

Life on the second floor of the Murray’s home in Woodlawn was beginning to come together on its own. I still felt out of place, a stranger in a strange land, but kept focused on getting into MIEMSS’ Emergency Health Services program at UMBC and continuing my work here. Among the details to sort out was getting certified as a paramedic in Maryland.

In terms of a social life, there was none. I had no friends per se. There was Louis, my boss at the dry cleaners. But I didn’t consider him a friend. The Murrays were Christian and drinkers, two things that I am decidedly not.

Evan, who rented the other second-floor bedroom, creeped me out. He always wore a button-down shirt tucked into chinos, morning or night. With neatly brushed close-cropped hair, Evan was a dead ringer for a young Lee Harvey Oswald. He showed me his room; spotless, empty and devoid of character, with the bed made and everything put away. My room was cluttered with treasures.

Young Oswald was taking business classes at CCBC in Catonsville. He described ventures that he planned, enterprises that would lead to fame and fortune. Just from talking with him, it was clear that he wasn’t firing on all cylinders. I avoided him as much as possible.

I wanted to get out and meet people, learn about my new hometown. I inventoried my previous life in Memphis, the things I did that got me socializing with other people, to find things that might be transferrable to Baltimore:

• Taught CPR and first aid
• Answered phones at Crisis and Suicide Prevention Center
• Community papers/radio
• Student activities (if I get in)
• Tournament backgammon

I had to invent a new life from scratch. In the meantime, I devoured Shock Trauma, learning about why I’m in Baltimore.

“You think people die from accidents or heart attacks, but they really don’t. Not directly. Those things produce shock, which is sluggish or nonexistent circulation, and that’s what kills you. Shock…think of it as a pause in the act of dying.

“It turns out that your last moments of life are busy. A lot of things, chemical things, have to happen before you can die. We’re learning about this process, and how to stop it.

“What we’ve discovered is that if you stay in shock for very long, you’re dead. Maybe you’ll die in ten minutes or maybe you’ll die next week, but you’re dead. So if you’re in shock we have to work fast. You’ve got, at most, sixty minutes. If I can get to you, and stop your bleeding, and restore your blood pressure, within an hour of your accident…then I can probably save you. I call that the golden hour.”

R Adams Cowley in Shock Trauma by Jon Franklin and Alan Doelp (1980, St. Martins Press)