The Deadly Odor Of Coolant And Gasoline Struck My Nose

The volatile odor of coolant and gasoline struck my nose as I took in the chaos around me; a metallic film filled the air. Metal groaned as the car settled into its mangled state. While my parents raced over to the vehicle, I stepped out of the backseat, my seven-year-old body trembling. My mother yelled over her shoulder, â€Å"Kaydie! Come here right now!† I ran over as she pulled open the back door, revealing a sobbing 4-year-old girl. â€Å"Kaydie, this girl needs you and we need to help her parents. Can you sit with her?† Heart pounding, I crawled into the seat next to the girl. She looked at me with terrified eyes. â€Å"Where is my mommy and daddy?† I held her hand and reassured her that my parents were with hers. We sat, hand in hand, as I told her a story of a little girl riding a unicorn while I observed my parents helping hers. Sixteen years later, I still recall that moment vividly. I was grateful I was able to bring comfort to that girl, but I desperately wished I had been able to help her parents as well. That experience laid the foundation for the life I have today and the future I am pursuing. My senior year of high school, I obtained my Emergency Medical Responder certification. Not long after, I witnessed a rollover where the victim was trapped inside. I was the only one on scene with medical training. Through my certification I was able to push my adrenaline aside and stabilize the woman until EMS arrived. Although I had been able to provide emergency care – I was