A languid odor: marijuana mingled
with the fetid stench of alcohol.
Recoiling instantly, I held breath in
while dabbing gingerly where face had fallen
into windshield. MVC. Disgust
suffused my features as did pain contort
his own. This patient, though, had placed his trust
into my hands. He could not see my sort
of loathing festering inside. I held
his hand. Debridement done, he jerked his head,
immobile C-spine lifted up, eyes swelled
now parted lids to lock with mine. 'I need
to see who held my hand,' he said. The momentary
blindness was my own.

Right On . Samuel Andrew Taylor, Jr.