Because I want to share this story with as many people as possible, I’m making part of the book free through the following blog posts. The book is available in print on Amazon and as an ebook through both the Kindle and iBooks stores. Please enjoy and share!
CHAPTER ONE – ANOTHER DARK MORNING
Wisps of cloud drift by the windshield, drops of moisture clinging to the plastic like tiny jewels. Like spirits of the sky, they appear out of the ether then drift off into the blackness. The helicopter’s machinery humming through my helmet and the gentle throb of the main rotor lull me to into an exhausted sleep, my eyelids sinking heavily as I slip off into a dream that’s right there behind my eyes.
Then, from the back of my brain an alarm clangs. If I don’t pay attention I’ll lose control of the helicopter and crash. My head snaps up, eyes staring out into the dark.
My right hand is on a control stick between my legs that looks like it came out of a jet fighter, the main flight control for the helicopter I’m flying. If I fall asleep, the stick will flop over to the side and the helicopter will roll into a steep dive and tear itself apart, debris scattering over the miles of empty forest underneath us.
In the early days of aviation pilots had to be highly skilled at flying the unstable planes of the time or they would spin out of control and crash. But in the twenty-first century computer-controlled jets fly all over the world, perfectly safe for their passengers. Not so in the helicopter world. These small helicopters are much like the old wood and fabric airplanes, highly unstable unless the pilot constantly constantly guides them.
Awake and spun up, I stare into the blackness. It’s three o’clock in the morning and we’re headed into mountainous terrain. Our destination is a spot a hundred miles away, a country road lit up by a highway patrol car and an ambulance. I stare out into the darkness, anxious to pick them out of the gloom.
We’re flying to an accident scene where a trauma victim lies dying from his injuries. He won’t live long enough for the ambulance to drive him to a hospital. With us flying him he’ll be there within the hour and a trauma team will save his life.
During our seven days on duty we work three day shifts, then change over to a four-day stretch of nights, end day shift one day, then come back the following night. With no time in there to make the sleep transition to nights I’m on my seventh shift, and I am a zombie. Through my fatigue we have to find the ambulance, land safely on a small spot surrounded by high trees and rocky cliffs, then, with the patient aboard, climb up out of the trees and find our way to the hospital.
The weather could surprise us at any moment, wandering rain showers closing in around us and blanking out the few visual cues we have. If we had an engine failure, since we can’t see the ground, our usual gliding procedure to a safe landing becomes instead a fall into the trees, tearing the helicopter to pieces.
What weather information we had before we left forecast rain showers along the route. When dispatch called us, I wanted to turn down the flight. But my crew mates, two nurses highly trained to take care of trauma patients lying in the woods, insisted we go. In their mind, it was my job to overcome all obstacles between them and their patient.
So, when I pointed out the weather and the danger it posed, I was stared down. I would be to blame if we refused the flight and our management would give me a stern lecture. After moments of bitter silence, against everything I knew to be the safe, I gave in. Now we were deep into the flight and my instincts shouted we should turn back.
A later chapter will re-visit this situation, take the reader further into the dangers the crew faces, and deeper into the possible tragic outcomes.
Ten or twelve medevac helicopter crew members die every year, losing their way in the mountains, sometimes blundering into unseen bad weather, a lethal combination they cannot survive. Why do they risk their lives like this? Because they know their patients will die if they don’t.
Are they acclaimed heroes? Few even know of their existence. The media broadcasts shocking images of their crashes, but, even then, there is never any mention of their accomplishments, those 40,000 lives saved.
Forty years ago, when medevac flights first started in the US, hospitals were quick to adopt the concept. Their twin-engine helicopters were capable of flying in bad weather, night or day. Their cabins held medical suites capable of the most advanced mobile trauma care.
By the mid-80's hospitals trying to survive in the new HMO cost cutting environment began canceling their helicopter programs. The helicopter companies who had provided many of the aircraft stepped into the gap. Someone had to or many of those 40,000 souls saved every year would perish. They formed air medical companies, hired nurses and billing specialists who knew the medical reimbursement system and plugged themselves into the first responder network. With overhead costs a fraction of those at a hospital the operators saw a way forward.
They were so good at it they attracted the attention of private equity companies, who bought in, paying the operators well for their efforts. But then came more cost cutting from the new owners who were well known for such tactics. Again, the first casualties were the helicopters, the twin-engine variety with all-weather systems and autopilots replaced by light, single-engine types with only light plane instruments and minimal navigation gear.
This story is about medevac crews risking their lives in small helicopters to get to their patient. Nurses are driven to get to their patient while pilots are determined to save them from the mountains and the weather, their purposes often leading to conflict which they must work through if they are to survive. The anecdotes here tell of their bravery and dedication, the many close calls they experience and the thrill of saving a trauma patient’s life in spite of it all. There are those times when the patient doesn’t make it, and the crews suffer the loss along with the patient’s loved ones.
What was it like, one night in California, for example, when the crew was faced with flying a patient who was twice the weight they’d been told? Would the helicopter lift the hundreds of pounds they hadn’t planned on? Or would they fall back on the highway in a tangle of rotors and parts?
Each of the anecdotes in the story focuses on a particular aspect of the air medical mission, while taking us through another step toward to the ultimate question: how much danger am I in as an air medical crew member willing to take on to save a patient? And, at what point on a danger scale that gets worse every year as air medical companies continue cost cuts over safety, will we no longer take on the personal risk?
Read on.
Copyright © 2021 Woody McClendon. All rights reserved.
Although this chapter is being shared free of charge on flyinglowproductions.com, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to Woody@FlyingLowProductions.com
