The Trainer

Today I spoke with the boss of the athletic trainer, the true first responder to Jeff when he collapsed. I had spoken to the EMTs several months after Jeff died and had wanted to find the trainer who I was told responded to him first...but I wasn't able to find his name until recently. I have been having increasing concerns about Jeff being in pain when he was dying and they were beginning to really bother me so I thought maybe talking to the trainer would help. I knew talking to the trainer would help make it real.

So, the boss of the trainer called me back because the trainer, Keith, felt uncomfortable doing so. Keith is in his early twenties. He continues to fell the impact of Jeff's death, yet he continues to practice as an athletic trainer. I feel badly for him. Like the Coach of Doug and Jeff's team who was that young as well, having to deal with the trauma of one of your athletes dying must seem insurmountable.
So I listened as she, (Kathy, Keith's boss) told me about how Keith was in the locker room getting dressed when he was called to the field by the coach. Keith was told that Jeff was hit by a ball and unconscious. Keith arrived on the scene at 3:46 p.m., April 11th. He gave Jeff CPR, saw Jeff's chest raise; he spoke to him and Jeff did not respond verbally or respond physically to him (he did move his finger or another part of his body when asked to do so). He put a mask on him, his pulse was rapid, he had no eye movement and his pupils were big. The EMTs came right away and took over from there, putting Jeff on a stretcher, putting a brace on his head, and moving him to the ambulance.
Writing this I feel immobilized. I feel completely detached from the situation itself and even from hearing about the situation. It doesn't seem real to me, I seems more unreal.
I was told today by someone who things would get easier with time. I am reminded of the parallel someone made to me between a parent who has lost their child and a person who has lost their functioning, a paraplegic. I was reminded of this person commenting about how foolish it is to tell someone in that position, a paraplegic, that things will get easier with time. They simply don't. You get better about living with the loss of function and with all the things you are unable to do. You get angry when you see people who can function, sometimes, or so I imagine. You silently yell at God for letting this happen to you...Why me?? You ask so very often. You sometimes feel like hitting people who use their legs and arms and don't ever think about it -- just take them for granted...or worse yet, abuse them. But it doesn't get easier with time. That is what we want to believe - we have to believe sometime...but it simply isn't true.
Each day, my love for Jeff grows as does my love for his brother. I pray that I am not overcome or immobilized by my grief as so often it feels like I am on the brink of doing so. I pray that Jeff continues to be an inspiration to me and that his life continues to make me pause, appreciate what is, love what I have and who I am with.