When I volunteered to be a victim at a mass casualty emergency exercise, I didn’t know I would end up with my neck cut and would “die” at the hospital. But I had a lot of fun, and maybe the emergency responders learned something that will help them save someone else’s life.
Along with some 500 volunteers, I arrived at Barnett Park on West Colonial Dr. about 6 a.m. We checked in and were assigned to our areas.
The situation was this: Residents of a small Caribbean island wanted their island to become the 51st state and emotions on both sides were running high. The governor and a dignitary from the island were visiting Orlando, and some people were planning to protest. The protest turned violent, with riots downtown resulting in mass casualties.
Initially I was assigned to the group that was going to riot and assault police officers (throwing tennis balls and water bottles at them) and then get sprayed with fake tear gas. But while we were waiting, word came that they were short on volunteers to play the parts of injured victims that were taken to the hospital. So my assignment changed.
After a quick stop to be moulaged (have the fake wound—a deep neck laceration—applied, along with some makeup so I would look pale) and find out the details of my character, we boarded a school bus and were driven to Florida Hospital Altamonte. Bus loads of victims were taken to various hospitals throughout the area.
The bus parked in front; the Emergency Department entrance is in the rear. Ambulances lined up to put us on stretchers, load us into the vehicles, and drive us around the parking lot. No lights and sirens—but cute paramedics and EMTs.
I was “weak and disoriented,” so I was passed through the decontamination area (I guess to clean the tear gas off) on a gurney, then taken into the ED.
The hospital was in full regular operation and there were plenty of real patients around. I hope someone explained to the little boy who was in the hall as I was wheeled past that my wound was just makeup.
Once in a treatment room in the ED, a nurse came in, rattled off about 10 things that they would have done, then said, “She’s expired.”
They told me ahead of time that I would “die,” but I didn’t expect the news to be so abrupt.
After my “time of death” was called, I walked to the “morgue” (a temporary station set up for the exercise). I was photographed for identification and then waited with other “deceased” victims to be escorted to a conference room where we completed some paperwork.
When the exercise was over, we were led back to the bus and returned to Barnett Park for lunch. I headed home for a nap.
I doubt that I’ll ever do it again, but it was a great experience. And I have the t-shirt!
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