I was working in the squad room when a call to assist a fatal up on a curvy stretch of the highway came in. 

“Shit,” I though,  “I was just about 10 minutes to the door to head home.”  It was an hour drive for me.  The roads were bad and Christopher, my son, was at a friend’s house waiting for me to come and get him.  It was already 8:00 p.m. and I had not eaten lunch or dinner.

I drove out with a partner and we positioned the car just up from the traffic crash.  We were parked at the beginning of a large bend on a highway.  It was dark and a winter blizzard raged around us, the roads were instantly turning to ice because it was so cold.  There was so much snow falling that we could hardly see each other standing about 10 feet apart.

“It is so fucking cold I think I am going to loose my nose or my fingers because of frostbite,” I said as my whole body violently shook.  I touched my nose genuinely concerned that I would have to walk around without one for the rest of my life.

My partner replied, “We are more likely to be hit by a car that does not see us and lose a limb than we are of getting frostbite.”  I think he said this to make me feel better.

There were flairs all over the place, but we could barely make them out even knowing where to look.  If a car did come it would either hit the traffic accident scene or swerve and hit us.  Since it was a fatal we had to wait for the traffic accident re-constructionist to arrive and take measurements. 

I wish he would freaking hurry up is all I kept thinking.  I would have been in bed by now with my warm down blanket, it was the one indulgence to myself being on a tight budget.  The overtime isn’t worth the agony of standing here in the sub zero weather with the fear we could be hit at anytime.  Well, with the overtime I could buy another fricken blanket that I wished I had right now.

I am going to loose my fingers they are so cold.  Oh God, maybe I would loose my nose too.  I couldn’t imagine going through life without a nose.  How would you like keep it clean, my mind wondered.  You would have to wear a scarf over your face all the time.  I thought about the guy who lost his fingers and nose to the cold while climbing Mt. Everest. 

My kevlar gloves were not made for warmth.  They were made to get out in the cold for a few minutes then jump back into the car and put your hands on the heater.  The jacket I choose to wear was just as thin.  The driver was always in charge and my partner and I alternated every night.  When I drove we cranked the heat up breaking a light sweat, and now that light sweat was going to kill me.  I was going to freeze to death because the damn re-constructionist lived so far away and driving conditions were so bad.

The bad driving conditions are mostly what caused the accident.  A young mother and her 2-year old where going to pick up her boyfriend.  She took the turn too fast for road conditions and went into the oncoming lane.  It was a large truck that hit her small old car head on.  The driver of the truck had some minor injuries.  The mother driving was dead and the 2-year old had a broken hip, arm and leg, with several lacerations all over the body, but so far he was still alive.  The boyfriend was in critical condition.

Okay, maybe frostbite and loosing my noose was small in comparison to those injured in the crash.  My whole body was shaking violently.  I just kept thinking about the 2-year old to keep myself from the conscious fact that I could actually freeze to death.  I needed something warmer; damn I should have packed my warmer jacket.  I sure wish I had some hot coffee.

My lieutenant’s house was only a half-mile from here, having heard the call on the radio he made some hot chocolate and was just driving up to offer us some.  He had brought his own coffee cups, more than likely knowing they would be left or broken.  I was so grateful.  I put the cup up to my face, thinking between drinks I would try to save my nose from turning black and falling off.

I thought about the poor 2-year old waiting in the cold until the ambulance could get to the traffic crash.  Then thought about the young girl’s parents being notified that their daughter was dead.  The boyfriend, if he lived, would more than likely suffer from his injuries the rest of his life.  Very likely a traumatic brain injury would result in his reduced mental capacity.  Traumatic brain injuries were a common result of traffic crashes most people did not take into consideration.

People always say, “Thank God they lived when they hear about crashes or injuries.”  I want to tell them it isn’t always such a good thing, the pain and trauma continuing throughout their life.  Last week I took a call about a homeless man that was showing himself and urinating in public.  He had been in a traffic crash years ago and didn’t have the mentality of more than a five year old.  There was no one to take care of him, and due to the deregulation of mental hospitals during the Reagan administration many such cases wondered about.

It was so fucking cold.  All I could think about was self-preservation.  A car’s headlights appeared around the bend and headed in our direction.  As I started waving my flashlight at the oncoming car, it wasn’t my own self-preservation I worried about anymore.  My mind automatically went into ‘I am here for my fellow troopers no matter what’ mode.  It was just that way when the shit hits the fan.  You would put your life out there for each other because, hell or high water, we were in it together.  The troopers at the crash scene were counting on us to keep them safe while they conducted the investigation.

I forgot about how cold I was.  The car stopped just in time.  There were no alternate routes, so the car just had to park there.  Now we had to worry about a secondary collision occurring.  We had been out here for four hours now and the accident re-constructionist just showed up.  If he could get his measurements fast, the wrecker truck was already there, all they had to do was remove the body and the car, we might be out of here in an hour and a half. 

Well past midnight, we were finally able to clear the accident.  Six and a half hours of overtime later I was finally in a warm car.  My hands on the heater, my body shaking violently, my toes completely numb, we headed back to the post with the heat on full blast.  It was a long drive home, the snow had let up a little but there were still icy road conditions. 

My son was at a friend’s house, I was going to let him sleep, but I went and picked him up.  I just wanted him to be with me, it made me feel like he was safer.  That’s what I wanted to think anyway, it was more than likely my selfish need to know he was mine and he was still alive.  I tucked him into bed with me and climbed in, all night rolling over and running my hands through his hair and kissing the top of his head.

I was sad that somewhere a family was being notified of a loss they would feel the rest of their life, but I was relieved that it was not me or my child.