By definition a lot of the posts on this site are going to be sad/troublesome/tragic etc, particularly when it involves a needless death, and an accident not too long ago is one of the few that – during my 5 years with Samui Rescue – will stay with me a long time.
I was driving the pick-up back from Nathon to Maenam, and had got to the bottom of the mountain (Nathon-side) when the cars in front of me started to slow – then stopped altogether. At first I thought it was (yet another) lorry that couldn’t make it up the mountain (which hardly qualifies for the term really… it being more of a big hill), but as I looked up the road I saw the remains of a motorbike in the other lane, and cars coming in the opposite direction had also stopped – just over the top of the ‘mountain’.
Obviously an accident had just happened, so I switched on the emergency lights and gave a blast on the siren as I pulled out from the line of traffic on my side and accelerated up the ‘wrong’ side of the road, which was empty.
As I got closer I noticed the rider of the downed bike, obviously seriously injured, and not moving. There was a very large river of blood running down the mountain away from the rider.
I got the car up as close as I could in the opposite lane, to ensure no cars would endanger our safety further. But – unusually – everyone was being particularly good, with nobody trying to squeeze past the accident.
I parked-up, and, grabbing my medical bag, I jumped out of the car, opening my bag and grabbing a pair of surgical gloves as I got closer to the injured man, and then using my radio to call in to both Maenam and Nathon rescue stations to report the accident and ask for help.
He was in a very bad way indeed… in fact, when I got to him I couldn’t find a pulse, and he didn’t seem to be breathing.
I thought he was dead.
I looked up at the sound of a voice I recognised, and saw another Samui Rescue volunteer that had heard my initial call and was driving his taxi close by. He came to see what he could do, and – just as I was about to say that the unfortunate guy was already dead, he shocked me by taking in a huge breath and then coughing up a lot of blood.
He was still alive, and that meant that there was hope.
I quickly checked over his legs and arms to see if anything was obviously broken, but they seemed ok.
We weren’t sure whether he had any neck or spinal injuries, and so we reacted as if he did have.
He was comatose and unresponsive, and his pupils were huge, but we needed to get him safely into some kind of recovery position so that he wouldn’t choke on his own blood. I held his head tightly as we gently rolled him over into as close a recovery position as we could, and instantly his breathing became less laboured, although he was still completely unresponsive and coughing up large amounts of blood.
In turning him I realised that I had committed myself to holding his head off the ground… I couldn’t let go of it as this would seriously change the relative position (between his body and head) that he was in prior to us turning him. So I sat on the ground cradling his head in my hands. It was then I could see more of the serious injuries his head had sustained (witnesses said that he wasn’t wearing a helmet).
As I sat holding him, I remembered the old adage that ‘hearing’ is the last to go, so I started talking to him… telling him not to worry, and that all he needed to do was concentrate on that next breath, and that we would soon have him on his way to hospital. I kept telling him that he was going to be ok, and that the ambulance would be here soon.
As I was talking to him I realised I needed to get an airway into him, to maintain a clear air passage, and – trying hard not to move his head, I managed to release my right hand and reach out to my bag and rummaged around in the pocket where I keep the plastic airways. The airway that was the perfect size had been used by me only the day before, and I hadn’t bought a replacement yet, but there was an airway that would do… it was only a little too long, but it would keep his airway open.
I grabbed it and gave it to my Rescue colleague, who tore it out of its bag and handed it back to me. A second after I had inserted it the guy coughed up a lot of blood. It was obvious that – apart from the serious head injuries, he also had some very serious internal injuries too. I just kept telling him that he was going to make it, and that when he got out of hospital he was to meet me and buy me a beer or two and a new airway. I didn’t know if he could hear me or not, or even if he could understand English, but I kept on talking.
The guy was a foreigner, white, possibly European.
To this day I don’t know what nationality he was, or his name, or whether he was on holiday, or a ‘long-term resident’ on Samui. (I suppose that I could call the hospital, or – now that it is all over – get the details from Samui Rescue… but I am not sure now if I want to. Sometimes it is better not to know too much… I think… but I don’t know.)
As we waited for the ambulance (it seemed an eternity, but was in fact only a couple of minutes), and I held his head, a Thai woman (the driver of a car who saw what happened) came over to tell us that she saw him come over the top of mountain – on his way towards Nathon – and then seemed to lose control of the bike, which went down heavily, at speed, and threw the man to the ground. His bike was some 10 metres further down the mountain.
She said that nobody else was involved, and said that he had been going quite fast.
We waited… and I kept on talking.
Eventually I heard the two-tone siren of the Rescue ambulance coming from the Nathon station, and so leaned down to the guy’s ear and told him so. ‘Not be long’ I told him, and told him just to keep on breathing.
The guys from Nathon were great, and we had a collar around the guy’s neck only seconds after they came to a stop.
After the collar was in place we didn’t waste any more time cleaning him up before we carefully rolled him onto a board – I told the guys that I had already checked for obvious breaks, and that there didn’t seem to be any. I held his head as the other guys slowly and carefully slipped the board underneath him and rolled him onto his back, with me making sure that his head turned at exactly the same rate as the rest of his body.
Seconds later the board straps were tightened around him and we all lifted him into the back of the ambulance.
A few seconds after that, the ambulance had completed its U-turn and blasted off towards Nathon Hospital… a 3 minute drive with ‘Blues and Twos’ on.
It was another 15 minutes or so before I could leave. I had to wait for the police to come and move his bike.
I spent the time with my colleague directing traffic around the bike and the blood on the road.
When the police arrived and took over the scene, I walked to the pick-up and got a couple of bottles of water to swill down the large pool of blood on the road as the police moved the bike onto the back of a pick-up.
I spent the rest of the day wondering if he made it or not, and finally called one of my Thai colleagues to get them to ask the hospital if he was still alive… this was late afternoon.
They said that he was still alive.
The next morning I found out that he had died during the night, as a result of both the serious head and internal injuries.
Now I don’t know whether a helmet would have saved this guy’s life or not… and this is not the time for either the practical or philosophical arguments for and against wearing a helmet.
But… it makes me think of this poor guy’s family, friends, and loved ones… all who now have to come to terms with his death, and also makes me want to scream at some of the holiday makers on Samui that I see driving around the island like the proverbial ‘nutter’ – oblivious to the danger or risks they face/take – and ask them whether riding a bike ‘a bit too quick’, and/or without a helmet, is really worth the risk.
Of course… they would probably just laugh at me and call me an old fart or something, before screaming off into the distance – under the impression that ‘accidents happen to other people – not us’!
RIP, whoever you were, and my sincerest condolences to his family and friends.
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