What do you do when someone you love is hurt? 

The majority of our day in Arizona was uneventful. Everyone in the house seemed to be tired after the late night we had yesterday, so we decided to have a lazy day. We watched Hamilton and played games, and a couple of us even decided to enjoy an afternoon nap.

In the evening, Steve, Isabella, Kathleen, my mom, and I sat around the table to play cards. Dad retired to bed early, and Jake headed upstairs with Samuel and Thomas to play Mario Kart. Hours passed as we laughed and drank, determined to make the most of our last evening together in Tucson. 

Near the end of the game, Thomas and Samuel came bounding down the stairs, followed by Jake, who was holding his right leg awkwardly in front of him as he hopped on his left foot. 

“I was bitten by a scorpion,” he announced. A beat of silence followed this statement before all of us at the table stood. 

“You were what,” Mom demanded. 

“Bitten by a scorpion,” Jake repeated. He, ironically, seemed to be the calmest person in the room. 

“Where?” Steve asked. 

“In one of the bedrooms,” Jake said. “We were playing hide-and-seek.” 

“He’s probably gone by now,” Steve said. Despite this, he still followed Jake back upstairs to the bedroom. A moment later we could hear the stomping of a heavy shoe, the sound that told us the scorpion had been both found and killed. 

Mom ran out of the room to wake Dad, while I turned to the two girls.

“Get me some gauze and something sturdy to make a tourniquet,” I said. They both ran out of the room as I grabbed my phone to call 911. This, however, went out of my head as soon as Jake came back into the room. He rushed to his backpack, tore it open, and pulled out a military style belt, which he wrapped tightly around his upper leg. 

“It says to do a cold compress and to keep the area elevated,” Kathleen said as she returned, reading off her phone. Isabella followed her and set the gauze I had asked for on the table. 

“Tyler,” my mom called as she ran back into the room. “You’re driving.” 

“I can’t drive,” I exclaimed. 

“You need to,” she said. This, I realized a moment later, was true. Of all the adults present, I was the most sober. 

Steve thankfully remembered to call 911 as I left the room to grab the car keys. I went to start the car, but after waiting for a few moments, I realized my family was not following. I ran back inside. 

“Jake, you are going to cut off circulation to your leg,” I heard my mom say. “Loosen it up a bit.”

“No,” I exclaimed, rushing into the room. “That’s what a tourniquet is supposed to do.” Jake was lying on the couch, his foot elevated on my dad’s shoulder. 

“How do you feel,” I asked him. 

“It hurts,” he said to me with a smile. His jovial attitude reassured me. Steve walked into the room saying it was recommended we take Jake to the hospital. We helped Jake hop to the car, where I returned to my spot in the driver’s seat. 

Luckily, I had drank very little, and we arrived at the hospital 20 minutes later. I dropped Jake off at the Emergency Room with our parents and then parked the car. Jake’s last request to me as he hobbled out was to keep his girlfriend, Jess, updated. I reassured him that I would, so the first thing I did in that hospital waiting room was send her a text of what I knew. 

My parents and I waited in silence. A few minutes ticked by before the doctor emerged. 

“He is going to be fine,” she said. “I gave him an ice pack, and we are going to monitor him to make sure he doesn’t have a reaction.”

“How long will that take,” my mom asked. 

“At least an hour,” she said. “Also, unfortunately, because of COVID, you all can’t wait here. You can wait in your car, or you can go home, and he can call you when he is ready.” 

We walked out of the hospital, each a little torn on what to do. When we got back in the car, my dad asked my mom if she wanted to stay or go. 

“I guess we can go back to the house,” she said. I, personally, wanted to stay in the parking lot. I knew if it had been me in that room, it would be reassuring to know that my family members were so close by. But I reversed the car and drove out of the parking lot.

As we were driving back, Mom received a call from Steve. She relayed to him what the doctor had told us, and then she said that she was going to drop off me and Dad at the house and then return to the hospital. When she got off of the phone, there was a short pause before I spoke.

“I didn’t know you were planning on dropping us off at the house,” I said. 

“Neither did I,” Dad said.

“If I had known, I would have just stayed at the hospital,” I said. “I don’t want to just wait at home.” 

“Yeah, you’re not going back to the hospital alone,” Dad said. The bit of composure Mom had held onto until this point finally left her, and she broke down in tears. 

“Then you make the decision, David,” she said. “I don’t want to make it.”

“Okay, let’s go back to the house,” Dad said, thinking practically. “It’s only 20 minutes away and we are already almost there. And when Jake calls, we will go straight back.” Mom agreed, but her tears only intensified. I checked the GPS and saw we were halfway between the house and hospital. With a deep breath, I pulled over the car onto a side road. 

“This isn’t your turn,” Mom said. 

“I know,” I replied. I parked the car and then turned to her. 

“What do you want to do?” I asked. Mom didn’t answer me. “I think we should go back,” I said. 

“You should ask your dad,” Mom said. 

“It’s not about what I want,” Dad said. “It’s about what you want. What do you want to do?” Mom didn’t answer. 

“Okay,” I said, putting the car back into drive. “We’re going back to the hospital. That’s clearly what you want to do. It’s what we all want to do.” I turned the car around and headed back down the highway. A few moments of silence passed before Mom spoke. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. At this moment, Dad’s phone began to ring. It was good that we turned around when we did because it was Jake calling – the hospital needed insurance information. 

I drove back to the emergency room entrance, and Dad left the car. Through the windows, I could see Jake standing with a nurse in the waiting room. 

“That’s Jake,” Mom exclaimed tearfully. “He’s standing up! That must mean he’s okay and he’s ready to come home, right?” She turned to me, her eyes hopeful and desperate, as if confirmation of this question was the lifeline she needed. 

“I don’t know,” I told her. Mom bit her lip and looked back out the windshield, and then she rushed out of the car to greet her son, who was exiting the hospital. The two of them returned with Dad to the car. 

Jake was still in high spirits. On the ride home, he finally told us the full story: He had run into Steve’s bedroom during a game of hide-and-seek. The scorpion had been hiding right in the shadows behind the doorway. Jake said the sting had not hurt as bad as he would have thought. At first, he thought maybe it was a splinter. Then, after looking at it, he saw the area was red and swollen, so he thought maybe he had stepped on a bee. He used his phone flashlight to see what he had stepped on, and that’s when he saw the small, spider-like creature. 

He did tell us it is actually not a good idea to use a tourniquet when stung or bit by a venomous animal. 

“I knew it,” Mom exclaimed. The doctors had told Jake that using a tourniquet restricts all the venom in a high consistency to one area, so when the tourniquet is taken off, they have no way  of controlling the venom spread into the rest of the body. It is better to elevate the bitten or stung area and let the venom seep slowly, in a more controlled state, through the bloodstream. 

We returned to the house, where Jake’s main concern was where the scorpion was now. To his immense disappointment, Steve told him it had been flushed down the toilet. He had wanted to keep it, or at least get a picture, as a souvenir of his experience. 

What do you do when someone you love is hurt? It’s difficult to know what to do, and everyone reacts differently. Some of us are overwhelmed by our own empathy and emotions; no one likes seeing someone they love in pain. Others become cool headed and practical, thinking only of the logical next step. Some become rooted to the spot, paralyzed with fear, while others snap into action as if they have been training for this for years. The interesting thing is there is no way to predict how you will react until you are in the situation; there is no way to prepare for the swarm of nauseating emotions or rush of adrenaline that will hit you. And the unfortunate thing is that you are most likely to make mistakes or do something unhelpful, such as recommending a tourniquet for a wound that shouldn’t have it, or being so overwhelmed by choices to make that you become too petrified to make any decision for fear it will be wrong. 

What we can’t do is let these mistakes and shortcomings dismay us. After all, having made these errors means we did do the most important thing anyone can for someone in pain: We were there. We were present with the person who was hurting, and we did what we could and what we knew how to do. I am so grateful for each of my family members and the different skills they brought to the table, and I am especially appreciative for the doctors who knew what Jake actually needed. 

And now that I am out of the situation and can finally think about how I feel, I am so very grateful that my brother is safe and healthy. His good sense of humor, kind disposition, and relaxed approach to life are always things I have admired and loved, and I could not imagine my life without my younger brother. 

What do you do when someone you love is hurt? Hopefully, you just get the chance to be there with them.