Short Stories

Young Hands

A pair of hands, scarred, bruised.

Handing an ice cream cone to a child too poor to buy his own.
Frantically trying to bring life back to a three month old girl as her mother screams for her to breathe.

Skillfully cutting open a car to free trapped children.
Cutting through a noose that took a young woman's life.

Helping an amputee who fell out of her wheelchair.
Picking up body parts after a homeless man wandered onto train tracks.

Helping an old woman lost in the woods get back to her family.
Holding the hand of a dying woman who just wanted to hold someone's hand as she died.

Hands that have spent hundreds of hours learning how to save a life, handing a deceased infant to her mother to hold for the last time.

Hands that have signed on the dotted line to spend time away from their family so that they might make a difference in others... only to see families be torn apart.

Starting IVs, intubating, drilling IOs, cricothyrotomys, needle decompressions, cardiac pacing, cardioversion... just a few of the things these hands have learned.
Yet it never seems to be enough.
No matter how hard they try, no matter how quick they move or how precisely... in the end fate decides where these hands go.

These hands may be raised in celebration, applauding the great work of their coworkers...
These hands may be sunk deep into pockets, holding up a heavy head, wiping away tears.

These hands have only seen nineteen years of life, yet they have seen more than most ever see in a lifetime.