Volunteers rally to help girl from the grasslands

Ambulance chase

It had been a day－following days and ultimately years－of "hurry up and wait". It was, again, time to hurry. Now.

We followed as they moved her downstairs－and, to our surprise, out of the building. She was, to our greater shock, put in an ambulance with Tseringben. The driver said the rest of us were not allowed in. He drove off.

We had no idea where she was going. We feared we'd lose her.

So, we sprinted after the vehicle as it twisted and turned through the massive compound.

My heart felt as if it was jabbing the backs of my eyes like punching bags as I ran. And my shins felt like splintered branches for days afterward. I spent the next day tottering around like a just-born giraffe.

Finally, we caught up to her, and Geru Tsomao was admitted to the surgery room. There was nothing we could do but go home.

Her classmates sent a video of them chanting best wishes. Tseringben called a lama in Qinghai to light a yak-butter lamp for blessings. I intently soaked in the sunset－a practice I developed after 15 journeys through the Wenchuan quake zone, totaling eight months.

I was supposed to be near the epicenter on May 12, 2008, the day the 8.1-magnitude tremor shattered Sichuan province, leaving 90,000 dead or missing, but I ended up not going because of a scheduling change.

Following the disaster, which I survived by fluke and which motivated me to start the volunteer initiative in Yushu, I've watched the sunset whenever I can, contemplating life's impermanence and sublimity.

Just hours before, I was chasing an ambulance. Now, my feelings were catching up to me.

I've often had nightmares of being buried alive since spending so much time in the quake zone. My dentist recently pointed out my teeth are damaged from grinding them in my sleep. But that night－for the first time－I clawed myself free from the rubble and stood on top of it before I woke up.