NATANIA NUNUBIZNEZ
Sudden Medic
Between watching E’s space in Serenity squat when he went away and living on the roof there- that is, before we wound up getting the 10x 7 foot room with a loft that had a transom window to the hall, and a shaftway window as light,—between those spaces, Okra had a friend that needed her apartment sat while she went on business, or maybe it was dance or theatre in Poland. Her apartment was south of Houston and going toward Chinatown somewhere, a far away walk from where we considered home-and where we hardly ever strayed in our neighborhood on the Lower East Side, but it at least got us out of the usual few blocks. And it wasn’t a bad apartment-on the second floor, painted yellow on the inside, and had loft bunk beds built around in it. We noticed little mice throughout the apartment, ones that would play with each other, or whatever mice did, and this made my daughter happy. (So happy that we had to go down to the pet and aquarium store on Delancy and buy a black and white mouse for 79cents, which they put into a paper bag for us, cause really they were to feed snakes. My daughter got the mouse back to the apartment, and played with it for a little while, and then she let it go to live with the other mice. I am sure that it would be interesting to see the woman whose apartment it was, to see her face when she came back and saw a very black and white mouse- named Cow- running around with the brown city mice- all around the kitchen, and up and down the walls together.
Well we were returning one night, kinda late-but this was city time-for the long walk down Houston- where we always passed and drooled at the pastries in the windows near Katz’s Delicatessen. Especially of this satisfyingly circular pastry that looked like the size of a softball and looked made of chocolate. It looked so amazing, and I remember my daughter saying “ One day we will get that!” I was drooling too. But the thing was sort of pricey, and really we had barely any cash anyways most of the time.
It was a weekend night and there was a ton of chaotic traffic. People drunk and racing to the next light, random pissed or suggestive honking, and loud clubbing voices all around us, music from fancy cars thumping bass and then fading off as they sped away in that weird way it has, sounding like a warped record. We crossed at the light from Ave B across Houston and right as we were getting ready to cross, we see a SUV slam into a bike rider, launching him 20 feet- and kept going. Okra looked at me and started racing after the SUV. I ran with my daughter over to the bike guy who was on his back, his bike pretty far away from him. A few people had started to gather, and I knelt down next to the bike guy, checked his breath and pulse. There were cars whizzing with traffic very near us, and I pointed to a woman who looked concerned and said ‘ This is my daughter. Sit with her at the median’, (which was a few feet away, but safer than where I was). I needed to be able to have my daughter safe, while I did my thing, which was to help this man live. I kept looking up to check on my daughter, and saw the woman talking with her. I directed two people to call 911. And I told more than one person to direct traffic, cause fuck if I was gonna get run over helping someone who just got run over.
The man kept trying, like a bug, to get up, and his pupils were going from pins to huge pupils, to pins. I tried to keep his neck steady, fearing a neck injury, which was very possible, and holding his head, I felt some brains and blood and bone in my hand, I rubbed his cheek instead and talked at him, that it was going to be okay, that he will be okay, that he needed to just lay still and an ambulance would be there soon.
The cops came and I expected them to take over, which they didn’t. Me now covered in blood, unable to find a specific wound source without moving him, and kept checking his vitals. I told the cop to take over, that I needed to tend to my child, and the cop looked at me like I was crazy, and told me that the ambulance would be there soon. How did they knew that I knew what I was doing? Their lack of empathy much less the fact that they weren’t doing their job, pissed me off so much. They didn’t want to touch the blood. Okra came back, all out of breath, and was unable to catch the hit and run SUV, but did catch the license plate. He took my daughter to the other side of the street and put her on his shoulders so she could see me. I just kept going with what I was doing. I am only trained in minor street medic training for protests but very much apt to do what needs doing in an emergency. And everytime he would attempt to get up is when I tried to staunch the bleeding behind his head, by adding pressure, it seemed to work. I hope that my voice provided comfort or security, or at least direction in his obvious state of confusion.
I have been in a number of situations where it required me to jump into that same mode. I have since gotten more knowledge, even making it my business to study infectious diseases, and ditch medicine. Call it apocalyptic training. My first aid kit is amazing, although I want it to be more thorough, and I feel like I am good at taking a leadership role in emergency and war situations. Always have. People, especially in emergency and stressful situations feel better if someone takes over. I feel better if someone like me, or someone that I feel is capable takes the leader role and directs things methodically. There are very few people that I would trust with that- just like there is very few people that I trust driving me or my daughter. But it is nice to feel at ease with letting someone else take over. The weight of being in charge is a burden.
The ambulance finally arrived, and I told them what I knew, and backed away, seeing him being loaded up into the van. He was still semi conscious, and I saw them cut his clothes away, revealing already bruising limbs and lacerations. With the glare of the lights and the traffic frenzy, I crossed the road and stood for a few with Okra and my daughter. He held her hand as we walked, mine still covered in blood. I remember remembering that I just touched brains and such, and looking down at them in wonder.
We walked the length of Houston, passing the round ball of goo pastry in the shop, and Okra told us to hold up, for one minute. He went inside and bought that ball of goo, for my daughter, and she was quite happy, offering us bites, and holding it for me, cause of my dirty hands, while I attempted to bite it. All contemplation went to wondering at that pastry, and it made for a good distraction, especially since we had been ogling it for a time.—What was it made out of? Would it have pudding on the inside? What if it was like a pastry gobstopper, and lasted forever?!
Later after we got back, and my daughter had fallen asleep, all happy and chocolately, me and Okra shared a cigarette on the fire escape and talked about the accident. I was amazed at our unspoken ability to just give a look and go about our badass activities. I know he wanted to rip the SUV driver out of his car and beat the shit out of him. He was admiring of my immediate on the scene medic skills. We wondered what happened to the guy, did he live or die?, and I think I said a prayer to the stars that he would be okay. I still had blood around my nails, and it was hard getting off. But it left a very big reminder that life is precarious, and you could be happily riding your bike with friends, going to the next event, or bar, not even thinking about death, and then some asshole could end all that for you, and not give a fuck, or be too fearful to stop and deal with it. More than likely, this was the lesson learned that day, also contemplating what we could have done better, or at least I was. I realized that I needed to take more first aid classes, read up on more apocalyptic first aid. Even went so far as going full herbal, and learning what to use in the wilderness. I like that about myself. I feel ready. Unfortunately ready.
natania nunubiznez- lives by her pen name as well as personal, weaving thru life rules and not being in one set place, or time for that matter. True to her living genre, she not only documents events and past radical history thru auto bio comics and writings: in-this-life-comics.com, but she seeks out the bold mastery of street performance by recording the songs, acts and stories of people that hold a spark. thebuskersproject.com. with a background of defiance in activism around America, and the practice of homesteading survival skills, Natania is working on a number of projects collaborating with people who also believe that the time before internet and cell phones was a time of ingenuity and should be well remembered. A book about squatters in NYC in the 90s is underway, as well as a comic memorandum of the punk scene in the early 90’s. She has won an Acker Award for comic journalism in 2017 in NYC, and her most recent collaboration was an illustrated chapter in a new book coming out soon about the life of Lower East Side legend, Clayton Patterson, created by Julian Voloj. On the daily, her drive is to get the most written of our rebellious doings, before the world goes to hell. Read up on her: natanianunubiznez.com Also her podcast with a number of episodes can be found at: thisiswhathappenswhenyoureme.com