He hit me... Please don't tell!

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It is 02:45 hours and the pager sounds. "23 year old female, injuries from a fall." I jump out of bed and into my car. I wonder what a 23 year old would be doing at this hour that could possibly cause injuries from a fall as I am driving to the firehouse.

My Captain tells me to get collars and a backboard. He grabs the trauma bag, and we enter the scene. There is a woman lying on the ground, next to a bed. She is extremely thin, abnormally so, and clutching her middle. Her boyfriend is there and looks worried. We transfer her to the backboard. Her boyfriend tells her it will be okay, that he will be at the hospital soon, and tries to kiss her on the forehead. She turns her head away from him before he gets the chance.

We load her into the ambulance. My Captain asks her what happened, and the story comes out. She is on parole, she tells us, and her boyfriend threw her around. She says she's been drinking tonight even though she's not supposed to, and begs us not to tell the police. My Captain tells her that it's not our place to turn her in, we're just concerned about her health. She looks relieved. My Captain instructs me to examine her to make sure there are no obvious fractures while he gets her vitals. I check her pelvic bones to see if they are broken, which they aren't. She talks and talks. She asks my Captain what to do? He tells her to just tell the nurse's that she fell. She says okay. She looks like she is formulating an alibi as we speak. She smiles and is trying to cover her desperation. She is sad, though. I can tell. She jokes and laughs, but she is in pain. She is lost and confused and scared and completely, totally alone.

I am frustrated with our patient and with my Captain. What makes women stay with these men, what makes them defend these men, is beyond my comprehension. And I want to shake our patient, I want to look her in the eyes and have her get it. I want her to understand what life is supposed to be like. But of course, further injuring the patient is against all kinds of laws, so I sit still and simmer in frustration, anger, confusion, and of course, love.

My Captain asks if I want to give the radio report. I am scared, as this would be my first time. He says go for it. I say I'm not so sure. Our patient laughs and says "aww, go ahead honey." I give up, and grab the radio. "See? That wasn't so bad!" My Captain says. I grin despite of myself.

We get to the hospital and are told to report to triage. I want to tell her I understand. I want to direct her to help. I want to let her know that this isn't how love is supposed to be, but I am a rookie and do not want to overstep my Captain, so I keep my mouth shut. We transfer our patient to a wheelchair. My Captain hands the PCR to the triage Nurse. I place my hand on our patient's shoulder, look her in the eyes, and tell her to take care of herself. She places her hand on top of mine and thanks me with the deepest, saddest "thank-yous" I've ever heard. I wish I could have stayed with her.

As we leave, I overhear the skeptical triage nurse interrogating our patient about her apparant "fall" out of bed. "Good." I think to myself. "At least someone sees through her, other than me." I leave the ER feeling better. We return and eat breakfast at the firehouse.