"Tourniquets save lives": Vansh Patel's Survivor Story

Note: The following story is a first-hand account of how Vansh Patel went from high school graduate to a bleeding victim from a car accident to now an advocate for emergency preparedness. 

Graduation night was meant to be a joyful milestone, the closing of one chapter and the bright start of another. For me, it marked something far more life-altering.

That night, I was involved in a car accident that changed everything. In an instant, I was ejected from the vehicle and left severely injured on the roadside. My life could’ve ended there. But it didn’t, because of a tourniquet and the quick actions of the people around me.

Just a few months earlier, Dougherty County EMS visited my school to give a presentation on bleeding control. At the time, most people didn’t think much of it, because it is the kind of emergency we never imagine would actually happen to us.

But that night, my friends remembered what they’d learned. One of them found the tourniquet we’d received during that class and, without hesitation, applied it to my arm. Their decision, made in seconds, gave paramedics enough time to reach me and airlift me to Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta.

I woke up surrounded by uncertainty. My injuries were life changing. I’d lost my arm. I’d lost a dear friend. But from the moment I opened my eyes, I never questioned whether I’d move forward, only how. The path ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but I’d already survived the impossible. The rest, I knew, was going to be up to me.

Facing a New Reality

When I woke up in the hospital, I was told something I’ll never forget, that if this accident had happened a thousand times, this might have been the only version where I survived. That stuck with me. I knew right then that my story couldn’t end with survival; rather, I had to use it for something more.

I made a promise to the friend who tied that tourniquet: I’ll never be able to repay you, but for the rest of my life, I’ll do whatever I can to teach others what you did for me. That promise became the foundation of everything I’ve done since.

I spent the next 3 weeks at Grady Memorial Hospital, undergoing multiple surgeries and coming to terms with the fact that I had lost my dominant arm. When I was stable enough, I returned to Albany and began rehabilitation at Phoebe Putney Memorial Hospital, where I learned how to walk again and how to live with one arm.

The early weeks of rehab were the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. There were moments of frustration, but also motivation. I was faced with two options. I could either let this experience take control over me or I could embrace it and find ways to move forward—personally that’s the only choice I’ll ever choose. Just weeks after I transitioned out of a wheelchair, I returned to the gym. Day by day, step by step, I started to make progress. I realized that even the smallest improvements mattered. I recognized that I wasn’t alone and that I had an incredible support system made up of my family, close friends, my medical team, and the entire community of my hometown. People I didn’t even know sent prayers, raised funds, and reached out to help. That support gave me strength when I needed it most.

More than anything, the process changed my perspective. I began to see my injury not as an end, but as the beginning of a new path.

As I regained my independence, I found myself thinking not only about recovery, but about purpose. I knew I wanted to make meaning out of what had happened, not just for myself, but for others. I had survived because someone around me was prepared.

Going through trauma like this forces you to rethink everything. It made me ask myself what I really want to do with my life. And the answer became clear, I want to help others heal, the same way so many people helped me. That’s what led me to pursue a career in medicine. I’m now on the pre-med track at Georgia Tech with interests in physical medicine and rehabilitation, but no matter what path I take, advocacy will always be part of it.

I’d like to one day be in a position where I can help people through recovery the way others helped me, whether that’s through medicine, mentorship, or education. My experience has given me not just a story, but a responsibility to make sure more people are equipped to save lives, just like mine was.

I was blessed with the greatest support system I could ever ask for, but many people aren’t fortunate enough to receive the help they deserve. Going forward, I’d like to be that support system for them.

Training the Next Generation of Life Savers

A couple weeks after I was out of a wheelchair and walking again, I walked into my first classroom, not as a student, but as a teacher. I began teaching high school seniors how to use a tourniquet. I started in rural South Georgia schools, where access to hospitals may be limited. I partnered with Phoebe Putney Memorial Hospital to create emergency pouches with tourniquets and gauze, and I began sharing my story to show just how real the need for bleeding control is. It’s something that’s so essential but so often overlooked because we never expect something like that to happen to us.

As a recent graduate myself, I’m able to relate to these students on a personal level. I tell them, “This can happen when you least expect it. So just be prepared.” When they see me—someone their age who’s lived through it—it makes them take the training more seriously.

As an ACS Stop the Bleed instructor, I take a hands-on approach during every session. I walk students through tourniquet application, answer their questions, and share the life lessons I’ve learned such as that your choices affect more people than you realize, that growth comes from pain, and that your perspective shapes your outcome.

'Using That Pain to Fuel Something Greater'

Being part of Stop the Bleed and working with Phoebe Putney to reach more schools has given me a sense of purpose I never expected. I’ve found healing not just in recovery, but in helping others be ready when their moment comes.

To me, being a survivor isn’t just about making it through something traumatic, it’s about what you do after. It’s about using that pain to fuel something greater. I lost my arm. I lost a friend. But I didn’t lose my life, and I won’t waste the second chance I was given.

This experience has taught me that strength isn’t just physical. Real resilience is about what you do when life hits hardest. It’s about adapting, pushing forward, and finding new ways to do what you love. I’ve even started designing a fitness device for other amputees, a tool I first prototyped in my garage and now will continue to develop with help from resources at Georgia Tech. Despite everything I’ve been through, I’m back to enjoying all the hobbies I love like working on cars, playing golf and other sports, hitting the gym, and fishing. In fact, I even designed a custom tool to help me fish more effectively. These activities remind me that passions don’t die out after an accident; rather, they adapt and grow with you. What once came naturally may now take more effort, but the love for it remains unchanged. 

If there’s one thing I hope you take from my story, it’s that tourniquets save lives. You never know when you’ll need one, but if that time comes, knowing how to use it could mean everything.

I can’t go back and change what happened to me, but if my story helps even one person save a life, then I can look past the pain and find peace in the purpose.

Life can change in an instant, so be prepared, stay grateful, and never underestimate your ability to save a life.