Triaging a patient in zero gravity.
I’ve always been captivated by space exploration. To say I love it would be an understatement; “obsession” might be more accurate. From a young age, the drive to venture into the unknown and a deep love for science were instilled in me. This passion has shaped both my career and personal pursuits.
For the past few years, I’ve been rigorously training in the physical aspects of space travel. I have a background in engineering and some experience in emergency medical services (EMS), which made me curious about how to combine these skills in an extreme environment like zero gravity. I wanted to see how well I could function and contribute to something meaningful while floating free from the Earth’s pull.
However, accessing zero gravity isn’t straightforward or affordable.
Options like Blue Origin or Virgin Galactic are out of reach financially since I’m not a trust fund kid. But then I discovered something fascinating: zero-gravity flights are conducted using heavily modified planes that climb to great heights before making controlled dives. This simulates zero gravity for short periods, offering a taste of spaceflight without entirely leaving Earth’s atmosphere.
These flights head towards international waters over the Atlantic Ocean, clearing a vast airspace for safety. The only hitch was that seats were scarce, and I ended up on a waitlist. I had initially planned a solo hiking trip to Alaska this year, which I had to cancel due to irritant dermatitis — a skin condition I accidentally developed by my own doing. Unable to hike and stay out in the sun for long, I was quite disappointed.
Then, just a week before the scheduled zero-gravity flight — let’s just call it “the flight” — I received an email. A spot had opened up! I was so excited that I literally danced in my bedroom, causing my neighbor to bang on the wall for me to stop shaking the floor.
Eager to make the most out of this experience, I decided a plan to conduct a triage in zero gravity. The challenge, however, was finding a patient. When I arrived at the launch site, I met a finance professional who also practiced jiu-jitsu and wanted to test a move in zero gravity. We struck a deal: he could try his move on me, and I could use him as a patient to practice triaging.
Unexpectedly, he became ill during the flight, turning a simulation into a real emergency. I monitored his pulse, checked his oxygen levels, listened to his lungs with a stethoscope, and kept an eye on his heart rate. It turned out to be a thrilling, if unplanned, test of my skills. I decided to forgo checking his Blood Pressure because it would be high just due to his epinephrine (adrenaline).
It’s likely that not many people, especially those under the age of 30, can claim to have triaged a patient in zero gravity. The experience taught me the importance of Velcro in space — my phone ended up hitting someone in the forehead, and my penlight went missing for a while until someone called out, asking whose it was. “Mine!” I shouted, relieved to find it again. (Those ain’t cheap)
Reflecting on this experience, I feel proud and privileged not because it adds me to a short list or an elite club, but because it was proof of my years of training and preparation. It felt like stepping into a natural habitat for me. While I still have many milestones to achieve before I can even think of joining the astronaut program, this experience was a solid start to that journey. It wasn’t just an experiment; it was a step closer to realizing my dreams of space exploration and contributing something valuable to the field.
Space is an unforgiving environment; it follows none of the rules and laws we hold on Earth. Accepting this has given me a newfound respect for what astronauts endure and their extensive preparation before venturing into the cosmos. Training is crucial — repeat the same procedures over and over until you can perform them flawlessly under any conditions. In my own experience with triaging in zero gravity, I faced failure in my first attempts. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong: I couldn’t stabilize my patient, my penlight got lost in my pocket, and I fumbled with the stethoscope, and lost my oxygen meter more than once. These challenges hammered home just how demanding and relentless space can be. So, massive respect for all astronauts out there.
And to my fellow aspiring astronaut candidates, let’s acknowledge the magnitude of the task ahead — We have a lot of work to do. Godspeed.
