11/05/2026
今天早上我们正在整理救护车,检查器材时,突然电话响起。
电话那头是一位父亲,声音颤抖:“我想带我女儿回家,可以帮忙吗?。”
20岁的女儿,因为一场车祸而脑死。
听到“脑死”两个字,心里咯噔一下。这已是这几天第二宗“脑死”的案例,而且又是这样年轻的生命。
我们二话不说,放下手上的事,发动救护车,直奔医院。
ICU红区门口,焦虑、崩溃的家属,红了眼眶。
我们等医生签完字,办好出院手续, 从医院直奔甘榜。
80多公里的路程, 一路上很安静,安静到能听见自己的呼吸。
女孩的哥哥,还有一位家人全程陪伴她。他们全程静默,握着她的手。
很遗憾, 在离家还有一段路时,她走了。
当救护车最终抵达甘榜,屋外挤满了等待的亲朋好友。
车门打开的瞬间,哀嚎的哭声让人心酸难过。
白发人送黑发人,这是人世间最大的痛。
我们能做的,只有陪她走完这最后一程,把她送到家。
这趟任务是承载满车的哀伤,哀悼年轻生命的陨落。
We were tidying up the ambulance and checking our equipment this morning when the phone suddenly rang.
It was a father. His voice was trembling: "I want to take my daughter home. Can you help me?"
His daughter was only 20 years old. She had been declared brain-dead after a car accident.
Hearing the words "brain-dead" made my heart sink. This was the second case of brain death we had seen in just a few days—and another life cut so short.
Without a second thought, we dropped everything, started the engine, and rushed to the hospital.
Outside the ICU, the family was in a state of collapse, their eyes red from crying. We waited for the doctors to sign the papers and finished the discharge process. Then, we began the journey from the hospital to their village (Kampung).
It was an 80-kilometer trip. The drive was incredibly quiet—so quiet that I could hear my own breathing.
The girl’s brother and another family member stayed by her side the whole time. They didn’t say a word; they just held her hand tightly.
Sadly, she passed away while we were still some distance from home.
When the ambulance finally arrived at the village, the house was crowded with friends and relatives waiting for her. The moment the doors opened, the sound of their grieving was devastating.
There is no greater pain in this world than a parent having to bury their child.
All we could do was accompany her on this final journey and make sure she reached home. This mission was heavy with sorrow, mourning a young life gone too soon.