Previously Unpublished

Psychology. The science of mind and behavior. I think if I were to go back to college to start over again and had to pick a different major, I would likely choose psychology - literature would be a close third (I was, predictably for a law student, a political science major). I am constantly fascinated by how people think and react to situations. To me the range of settings within which the mind can dwell, from the artificial effects of chemicals to the distorted perception of those with eating disorders, are open to endless exploration probably to a point we’ll never fully understand.

Anorexia is a disease that in real life is foreign to me; or at least if someone I know has been afflicted, its effects have been shielded from my knowledge. Thus to me, the symptoms seem almost fiction-like: completely skewed perceptions of oneself, crumbs literally too much to eat; it is hard for me to conceive of even though I know the illness is real and is worth knowing about. It almost seems like some fantastical plot device used to generate drama in the seemingly mundane world of everyday people (I think I first really heard about anorexia or its cousin, bulimia, during an episode of Baywatch).

But I’m a law student and this morning I got up fairly early for a Sunday to read about equal protection before bidding my family farewell after a wonderful and food-laden Thanksgiving weekend. Procrastinating, I perused the NY Times online this morning, I clicked on an article by Harriet Brown called “One Spoonful at a Time.” It details the beginning of her family’s ongoing struggle with the grip that anorexia has on her eldest daughter. It feels wrong to call such a serious article, mesmerizing, but it was. Obviously reading about the experience is not the same as living it, but this article is powerful and provocative. I want to write about this and talk about this disease that is often portrayed as the residue of our Hollywood-culture, but is likely originated somewhere between genetics and the unknown.

Why am I so interested? Well, it was a fantastic piece of writing, and to quote John Donne:

“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were. Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

Plus, I’m not an expert now, but I understand anorexia a little more. As a lawyer, a main part of the job is to understand, especially the mind and behavior (all other alterior motives aside).

-jd

So I’m driving from Ticket’s place to go meet up with some friends the other night, sort of scanning my iPod for a song I’ve been listening to all day, but also doing the usual scan of the horizon as all good drivers should, when all of a sudden there is a motorcycle rolling over diagonally and in the distance in front of me, before coming to a stop with a guy continuing to roll like a ragdoll in the aftermath. I was stunned, it was a surreal scene. I have never seen an accident of any consequence before and it was almost like I couldn’t believe that the guy didn’t just pop up, pick up his bike, and go on his way. Then, in what was probably less than a second, but seemed like much too long of a delayed reaction, I realized that I was the closest to the driver. There were not that many other cars around, if any that had actually seen what had happened, since I only caught the rolling part. Not quite sure how he ended up that in that trajectory in the first place.

Well, since the rider just lay limp and unmoving in the middle of the street - shockingly to my sterile little collection of edgy life experiences, it was clear he was hurt and needed help. Call 911. I’ve never called 911 before. The closest I’ve come to dialing official help was probably during a high school scavanger hunt when guys had to call a teen pregnancy hotline describing their “symptoms.” Maybe one other time I called the local police number directly to report a car casing my parents house, but never 911 because that is for emergencies. I think I delayed for another second as I opened my car door after pulling to the side of the road and pressing the emergency light on my car because it still wasn’t clear to me that it was a 911 situation and I didn’t want to call the paramedics for less than an emergency.

Well, by the time I was approaching the guy and had the phone in my hand and was dialing, it appeared he was convulsing, so clearly emergency personnel should be involved. The violence of even a single person roll-over is staggering. The motorcycle had pulled out of the upper parking lot of the university to make a left hand turn and so he couldn’t have been going more than maybe 20-30 mph in terms of force, though that is assuming he was at a standstill. I didn’t see him actually go into the turn, but even at that speed, the torque that must have gone through his body to cause his shoes to fly off, along with half his personal belongings was just crazy. By the time I reached him, a number of people had stopped and were also trying to help. I am extremely impressed by how many students took the time to try and help.

I was not impressed by getting the answering service for 911. No less than 5 people tried calling and only perhaps 5 minutes later did someone get through. By then a campus safety officer had driven over with lights flashing to take control. Presumably someone driving in the other direction - because traffic basically stopped going our way due to all the people who had gotten out of their cars - had reported the incident to the guard post at the campus entrance. It was sort of a bad situation on the road and makes me think I should get a reflector or something to keep in my car, because for a good ten minutes I was stationed in the middle of a fairly major road essentially at the mercy of drivers not speeding and paying attention to the 4-5 people in the middle of the street in the dark trying make sure a hurt rider didn’t move and that his bike was in the center divider and not in a traffic lane.

Aftermath: As far as I know, the guy should be alright. He didn’t appear to have serious injuries after the shock wore off his body. Basically no major bleeding and he was moving once the cop arrived. Hopefully he went to a hospital to make sure there were no internal injuries. His bike was pretty banged up. I’m more shocked by how it affected me. I proceeded to my dinner plans, late of course, and then could not really follow the conversation because I kept having images of this guy and his motorcycle rolling in the middle of the street. In the end, it turned out to not even be that big of an accident - it could have been a lot worse, I didn’t even contemplate that by the time I actually got to the guy he might still be unconscious and need CPR. I think I’m taken back with how hesitant and then helpless I felt when the accident first happened. Is it serious enough for 911, should I insist he not move, do we touch the bike or do the police need to photograph it for any insurance claims, can I leave or do I need to give a statement (the cop didn’t ask and although I stuck around a couple more minutes, people started to go without anyone saying anything)?

I like to be prepared and I didn’t feel prepared for the image, to respond quicker and more confidently had he needed more serious aid, for the aftermath. This was not fighting in Iraq and watching your buddies explode while on patrol. This was a guy apparently hot-shotting his turn to try to beat a car coming towards him (as he later told the cop). If that image of a person getting so violently thrown around and at least temporarily disabled had that effect on me, I wonder if I’m too sensative, not sensatized enough to the world…how the hell are 19 and 20 year olds in Iraq handling this shit. I’m actually pretty much over it now. I talked to Ticket, I’ve thrown it around in my mind for a couple hours, and I’ve written about it now, so I guess it’s just a new experience.

My interview that morning and having my memo incorporated almost verbatim into a motion at my internship and going out to dinner and re-playing the Snow Patrol song for the 100th time were small and trivial all of a sudden. And then those small accomplishments and pleasures were simultaneously very important because no doubt I would hear music differently if either myself or someone I loved ended up on the wrong side of an accident.

Okay reflection over. I’m blogging again because writing is soothing. My phone had this crazy graphic come on the screen when I dialed 911. I want to see it again, but not really.

-jd