I started the week with an announcement to staff, friends and family that as of April 1st, my husband Chris and I are the proud new owners of Northeast EMS. It was a busy but fun week tying up loose ends on the business turnover. After a quiet day in the office, I was looking forward to having supper and a cocktail that Friday night with my husband and the kids, celebrating that we made it through our first week—with only a few hiccups.
It was close to 5 pm on Friday and I was getting into my car to pick up my two kids from daycare when dispatch called. ‘Semi vs. bus on highway 35 and 335 almost exactly halfway between Nipawin and Tisdale’. After instructing dispatch to call in all crews, I started to call every single employee on our phone list. The seriousness of the situation didn't sink in to most of the staff. Dustin, a 5-year employee, just laughed and said, ‘yeah right, what's up?’. ‘I'm serious,’ I said—to which he responded, ‘I'm coming right now’.
Once my partner, Barry, got into base, we took off. Dispatch informed us that there will be approximately 35 patients, some entrapment, and some DOA [dead on arrival]. My heart sank. A bus? My daughter is 3 years old and loves riding the bus on school trips. Barry and I quickly dismissed the idea of young school children because it was Easter break. Then we remembered there was a playoff game being played by our local junior hockey team, the Nipawin Hawks, that night. ‘A fan bus,’ I said thinking of how difficult it would be carrying 35 people out of a bus. ‘Or…’ Barry said, ‘…the Humboldt Broncos’.
The next 15 minutes were spent calling nearby Nipawin and Tisdale hospitals with dispatch updates, and mentally preparing ourselves for a mass casualty incident.
In school, we dreamed up outrageous scenarios, testing each other about what we would do in those situations. Pulling onto that accident surpassed every horrendous or dramatic scenario we could have ever thought up.
The bus was completely torn apart.
My partner and I left minutes after the first call from dispatch but already on scene were multiple ambulances, RCMP [Royal Canadian Mounted Police], fire fighters and bystanders.
It was overwhelmingly quiet stepping out of the unit. Everything seemed to unfold in slow motion, yet people moved with such urgency. I quickly realised we wouldn't have 35 patients to transport. I was taken aback at the number of blankets covering the deceased. Bystanders were everywhere helping. I, with 13 years' experience, and my partner, with over 20, were completely shocked by the scene in front of us—yet everyday people didn't hesitate to jump in and help. Either they were helping emergency medical services (EMS) to log-roll patients onto spine board, strapping them and then carrying them to a stretcher, or comforting the conscious patients until a paramedic was available. I would love to thank those brave and considerate bystanders that covered the deceased, making it easier for everyone involved to concentrate on the patients. Most had head injuries and facial trauma. With so many hands working seamlessly so well together, patients were quickly packaged and loaded onto ambulances.
Nipawin EMS took nine, I took the last patient and waited for one more breathing patient to be pulled from under the bus. It was awful watching the fire fighters pull bodies out from under the bus. There were no more breathing patients so Barry and I transported my patient alone, while Tisdale EMS transported four others.
Nipawin Hospital was crazy. It seemed as though every available staff member from every department was called in. That rural hospital was turned into a trauma centre. A physician or two in every room and at least three nurses as well. Others were there grabbing equipment and organising. My staff helped to stabilise the patients, then we all gathered in the hospital's break room to gather our thoughts.
We had three patients from the hospital that needed transport before the accident. We were discussing who was taking those transfers to Saskatoon. It was obvious now that at that time, none of us truly grasped how big and traumatising this event was. There were nine critical patients in that hospital that needed to get to Saskatoon and I was still trying to set up routine transfers. Our newly appointed EMS manager of the region gently suggested Parkland Ambulance transfer the previous patients. Thank God she was there with a clear mind to process the situation. My phone was constantly going off with previous coworkers, classmates and surrounding EMS services all offering to work or support us in any way possible. It was so busy and chaotic that I couldn't answer for hours. By then, a fantastic STARS doctor was dropped off to assist the emergency room staff when STARS took out the first patient. In the next couple of hours, the rest of the nine guys were taken by air with steady trips with five crews.
There was constant motion as we all tried to keep up with cleaning units which transported two trauma patients for pick and delivery of non-stop air ambulance trips. Every paramedic kept up with the pace with what seemed to be endless energy powered by adrenalin. We were too busy in those moments to think about the accident— or the tremendous loss.
It was eerie walking into the base the day after. It smelled strongly of cleaner. Each ambulance was fully restocked and cleaned from top to bottom giving no indication of what had happened the night before. In the boardroom everyone on the call had gathered and were reading online about each person who passed and eating the massive amounts of food that were continuously being brought in. Adrenaline was still high, each of us only sleeping a couple of hours at most, in disbelief about what we did and witnessed in those last 24 hours.
For me, it wasn't until a couple of days after the event that it really started to sink in. All social media and the news seemed to cover was the Bronco crash. The families talking about the children they lost was heartbreaking. Myself and coworkers avoided going out in public, especially in Nipawin. All anyone wanted to talk about was the accident. Everyone was kind and supportive, but it was so difficult to talk about with people who weren't there. Emotions were raw and uncontrollable for those first few weeks. It was difficult to stop the tears once they started. It was much easier talking to one another. The debriefing was surprisingly therapeutic. The CISM team told us we were different than other debriefings they had. Most people are closed off and find it difficult to talk. Our team is the complete opposite. We each had a chance to share our experience and what we would like to change about our performance. Almost what everyone said was the same—to have done more, describing the helpless feeling we each had.
I have never been so proud of my employees as I was the evening of the crash. Every one of them are great providers but, that day, they stepped up and gave tremendous care to several very injured people. It was shocking they felt they should have done more. They really couldn't have.
I can say with complete confidence that those patients received the best care they could have. Each first responder was on top of their game that day and they delivered. The severity of the injuries combined with the death toll was visually shocking and yet EMS, Fire, RCMP and the other first responders powered through.
The EMS world is small, and this event has seemed to make it smaller. Our service has received hundreds of messages of support from paramedics across Canada, and even some from around the world. It was a wonderful feeling knowing so many were thinking of us and our mental health. Donations and therapeutic services are being offered, and complete strangers delivered food baskets, thoughtful messages and cards. Perhaps one of the greatest and most unique gifts was the privilege of meeting the families of the people who passed and of our patients.
The country's reaction to this tragic accident makes me proud to come from a country that cares so deeply. We stand together grieving the loss of the Broncos and staff. We are #HumboldtStrong.