Shaken

I’m feeling a bit shaken. Baby Z and I were walking back from the Wurst Festival about an hour ago, marveling at how packed Wallingford, when I looked across the street and saw a woman lying in the middle of the road, just off 45th on Sunnyside, outside the Erotic Bakery. We ran over (or hopped, my ACL is torn and running isn’t possible, baby Z’s stroller serves as my walker) and arrived at the same moment as a man from a van that had just turned onto Sunnyside.

The woman was unconscious and didn’t respond to our attempts to rouse her, so I called 911 and explained as quickly and clearly as I could, in that hurried, clipped, concise language I guess we’ve learned from TV (“woman down in the street, unresponsive, 45th and Sunnyside, send an ambulance”).

There was no sign that she had been hit, she was cleanly dressed, in an unremarkable Wallingford style and had a full purse by her side. The growing crowd was anxious, each newcomer asking if we’d called for help, one man taking her pulse and shaking her, the crowd remonstrating him (“don’t touch her, she could have a neck injury”, “she doesn’t have a neck injury!”).

The ambulance arrived quickly, less than 2 or 3 minutes, it seemed, and we told them all we didn’t know: nobody knew what happened, she was just there when we turned around. The crowd let back and dispersed, not wanting to get in the way of the professionals.

The woman had started emitting a low, keening moan by now, and the medics started asking her questions. She answered no, she had not been drinking, but I thought I heard her say she was high. When they moved her to the side of the street, she was conscious, but confused and angry.

I hope she’s alright.