Like usual after work, I take the train home. Yesterday I was happy to be off a bit earlier since I didn’t feel so great, and I took the train home. Yet this trainride, which usually takes 20 minutes, took 2,5 hours almost.
I was in a train that hit a person. The person did not survive. I don’t know if it was suicide or an accident, but I know the railwaycrossing is a ‘closed’ one; with those bars. And they were down.
Suddenly the train started to brake – but against these things I guess you can’t stop in time. There was a hit, and a lot of other sounds. It was obvious we hit something; and
I saw things flying from under the train. Things like a black small wheel, a brown big thing which looked like some kind of pillow, lots of stones (from the railwaytrack), other iron bars and some more little parts (which were maybe parts of a human body- I’m not sure it went all so fast).
The train stopped. Moments of silence. The traindriver giving the message, with a trembled voice: we just hit a person. We’re going to see if we can give first aid.
But first aid with a hit like that, I guess the chance of survival isn’t much. All I could think of is that whoever was under the train, had no chance of survival. And that I later learned, was the truth.
After standing on the railway in the middle of nowhere for a long time, with a lot of firemen, police and other people who ‘clean it up’, we were escorted out of the train to a bus that came to pick us up. We had to walk along the track into the direction of the actual hit. I didn’t want to look- I didn’t want to see anything more than I already saw. I guess I was afraid to see things, I mean, it was still a real person, and his or her life just ended in one or two seconds, and I was a witness of that. I heard, I felt, and I know. That’s such a strange thing to know. Boom, a life away in a flash. Just gone, poof, just like that.
I feel sorry. Sorry for that person. Sorry for the relatives, friends, beloved ones. Sorry for the traindriver, who saw way more then I did. Sorry for the people who saw it.
It’s maybe cruel to say, but I did wonder before how it’s like when things like this happen. I never really wanted to found out, these are not the things you would like to witness.But now I know anyway. The way it goes, the sounds, the feelings. The sensations. I had cold chills on my back while walking to the bus.
I stayed home from work today, I called in sick. I just said I couldn’t work, that I was sick.
It’s true that I was sick yesterday evening and during the night, now I’m not really sick sick and I slept, the whole thing didn’t keep me from sleeping. I don’t seem to feel particularly bad or something. But I was just not capable of going to work this morning.
Now I feel guilty I stayed at home. I’m able to work – but, also knowing that I would have a difficult day and I might have come back sick today if I would have gone.
Now I took care of myself right before getting real sick; but it makes me feel guilty. And I know how that doesn’t make sense. I feel weak, like I’m a person with a weak immune system, with lower energy levels, who calls in sick too quickly. In this world, it doesn’t seem to be about wellbeing. Yet I don’t really get why I know I should not feel guilty, I still do.
I seem to always have to be able to operate. And a moment like the train accident just makes me think: is it really worth it? Is it so bad to have to stop for a moment?
Sometimes the world stops for someone, and yet it just continues like nothing happens around. I don’t get where my head goes, and maybe the story doesn’t make sense.