Image of joedixbrackettbysquad.jpg Image of emergencylogo.gif Image of joedixbrackettbysquad.jpg

Image of anibeatingheartxray.gif
A Fish Out   Of Water
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The Story Unfolds...

Season Two, Episode Eighteen..

  A Fish Out Of Water  

Debut Launch: February 1st, 2005.

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*********************************************************************
From:  "Maggie H" <hutchtx@comcast.net>
Date:  Sat Feb 5, 2005  2:50 pm
Subject: An Angel's Fate

"Carly?"

Bright blue eyes gazed up into Julie Hanson's face, and cheeks
bloomed with a smile.

"Carly, are you ready for lunch?" The teacher pointed to the
small group of students already waiting with their assistant,
Lisa, at the door.

"I'm ready for lunch, Mrs. Hanson?" The girl answered, her
words correct, but her tone imitating her teacher's question.
She stood from the rocking chair, where she had been sitting
after finishing a lesson with Julie. "I'm ready for lunch!" This
time the intonation was perfect. Carly trailed behind the group
as they exited the classroom, repeating to herself, "I'm ready
for lunch, Mrs. Hanson. I'm ready for lunch, Mrs. Hanson."

As Julie followed the four students down the corridor towards the
cafeteria, she watched Carly, especially, thinking how nice it was
to finally have her back. The girl had had a rough time over the
holidays and had missed the first two weeks of school. Like her
three middle school classmates, Carly had autism, but unlike the
others, she also had a seizure disorder and took a combination of
medicines to stable her moods and prevent her seizures. Lately, her
medicines had not been working quite right. She had had several
explosive episodes, putting holes in the wall in the classroom and
the hallway, as well as a fair share at home. Thus, the doctors had
placed her in the hospital to try to figure out a better combination
of medications.

After being back for a little over a week, now, things had been
good, Julie reflected. Her mood has been much more stable;
although, the new meds tended to make her sleepy in the afternoons.
That, at least, they could work through by taking frequent, short
walks.

Lunch was uneventful, and the group returned to the small, self-
contained classroom, where they would work on leisure skills by
playing a group game, after a short break. Carly's favorite break
activity was a wooden puzzle of the United States. She could do it
repeatedly without getting tired of it and she could do it in
about two minutes flat, when she wanted to. Today, as she sat down
at her desk, though, her eyelids drooped a bit.

*Better watch her,* thought Julie. *She's got that sleepy look
again.* She was usually fine up until lunch. But then she would
practically nod off on her feet. She gazed at the girl as she
slowly picked up the puzzle pieces, examining each, tilting it left,
then right, before placing onto the puzzle board. Soft blond hair
fell about her shoulders, and Julie could see that Carly was smiling
slightly and humming to herself. For all the world, she looked like
any other pretty 12 year old.

The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced around to
see Lisa busy with another student and moved to her desk to pick up
the receiver. A question from the counselor. It took only a few
minutes.

Image of soupkitchenkids.jpg Image of kelseysit.jpg Image of carlyoutside.jpg

When Julie turned back around to check on Carly, she noticed that
her back was slumped slightly. ::Dozing already,:: the teacher
thought to herself as she placed a hand on the girl's
shoulder. "Carly, wake up," she said firmly.

The girl did not move.

Julie felt her heart beat accelerate as she took a closer look.
Carly sat, eyes practically closed, Tennessee gripped between her
fingers and poised over its location on the puzzle board.
"Carly," she said, "open your eyes. We don't sleep in middle school."

The girl blinked and murmured something.

"Let's put the pieces in together," Julie said, guiding
Tennessee to its spot. Carly glanced at her teacher, but
then gaze away, her eyes staring off at nothing.

Julie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Carly, look at
me," she said firmly.

The girl did not move. And there was no mistaking the rigid lock to
her eyes as they gazed off to her left. Her lips hung open and drool
pooled at the corner.

"Lisa!" Julie stood upright and motioned to her assistant.
"Call the fire department, and then get the nurse! Carly's having a seizure!"

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  *********************************************************************
From :  Pam <miladyjag@yahoo.com>
Sent :  Sunday, February 6, 2005 10:47 PM
Subject :  Chapter 2    
 
Lisa ran and called the fire dept.

::L.A. Fire Dept. What is your emergency?::

"L.A. School for Learning Disability. A child is having a seizure."
Lisa stayed as calm as she could knowing Carly needed her to be so.
After she gave the address to the dispatcher, she hung up.

The new dispatcher, training with Sam Lanier, placed the call to the
units needed.  

::L.A. RESCUE 51-POSSIBLE SEIZURE. L.A. SCHOOL OF
VOCATIONAL REHABILITATION 1157 CROSSWIND
ROAD. ELEVEN FIVE SEVEN CROSSWIND ROAD,  
CROSS STREET CARSON. DRIVE TIMEOUT: 0722. SHERIFF'S
DEPARTMENT HAS BEEN DISPATCHED TO YOUR LOCATION.

Roy responded from the rescue squad. "Rescue 51,KMG 365." Johnny
wrote the address as Roy replaced the mic into its cradle and began
giving directions to the school, avoiding the detours caused by road
work from a broken water pipe under the street they would normally
travel.

"10 calls and we haven't been on shift for 5 hours; man looks like
the full moon curse is early this time." Roy could always tell if
Johnny's superstitious side was showing-especially if he saw a black
cat...something that really caused a miniature rant to begin.

"It's not that, and I know it, it's this abnormal heat wave we're
having." Roy was glad "The Phantom" had yet to play a joke on
Johnny...opps "Pigeon" as Chet called him.

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"Turn here, should be on the right." Both saw the school and were met
at the door by the principal and Vince Howard.

"It's Carly, she's had a seizure in class. This way!" She began to
run with the medics and officer as they went towards the classroom in
question.

Soon as they were inside, they saw a child laying on the floor and
furniture moved away from her. Several of the children were swiftly
moved into another classroom soon as Lisa and Ms. Hanson saw what was
happening, and to minimize the possible trauma of seeing this happen
to a friend; also giving the men room to work swiftly.

"Sweetheart, can you open your eyes for me?" Johnny knelt beside her
and began to take her vitals.


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From :  Cory Anda <andacory@hotmail.com>
Sent :  Wednesday, February 9, 2005 5:25 AM
Subject :  The Other Rescue Service


Dawn was just past. The sea was choppy. It sucked
greedily at the slender kelp strands shimmering in the warm
morning sunlight while fleeing tendrils of fog still drifted over
the newly reborn shoreline. The restless surf almost drowned
out the sound of  vehicle navigating the beach. C.B. hails and
responses punctuated the endless  song of the waves.

Garner Ellerbee was on patrol.

Garner looked like any other cop wearing a light blue polo
shirt enblazoned with an iron on "L.A. County Police Department"
badge. His three wheeler bike was similarly marked in white and
gold paint. There, the comparison to regular police dress ended.
Garner's ebony legs poked naked out of navy Bermuda shorts
and into navy knee socks and high top Nikes. His dark face and
sharp crew cut contrasted with his mirrored shades and the soft
blue of the sky. Garner scoped the shore up and down the long
line of light blue lifeguard towers running north and south.

Image of morningbeach.jpg Image of garnerbike.jpg Image of towersunrise.jpg

They would be coming soon. A lot of them.

The stocky black man chuckled to himself. It was going to be
another beautiful June day in southern California. Every day for
the past twelve years, Garner made this morning survey of his
sandy beat before the tide of public people came. His department
worked in close conjunction with the mammoth lifeguarding
operation of the Coast Guard network.

  Garner's beach was home to its headquarters, a high, gray
planked building at the very midway point of an eight mile section
of sand declared Roy Rogers State Park along the PCH.Huge one
way glass windows cocooned the tip two stories and a single, white
sign adorned its seaside face, "Baywatch Headquarters" it said in
neon orange blocking. The watch windows were masking the hubbub
of activity within.

  Garner soon noticed a fleet of yellow beach patrol trucks filing
out of the base's garage bay. His eyes drew seaward. Already, the
bright yellow rescue boat cruised a quarter of a mile out, covering
the off reef waters with its usual visual surveillance. He waved to the
vessel and was rewarded with an enthusiastic return of greeting.

Garner knew them all. He knew every lifeguard team on assignment
personally. He hefted and thumbed the C.B. mic, "Mornin' to each
and everyone of you lycra clad bodies. Ready for some fun in the
sun today? Garner stats coming your way...."

The radio suffered a multitude of groans and moans from boat and
trucks from all the lifeguards within them.

"Surf's swell is lovely with 4 to 6 foot crests and the in-reef water
temp is steady at seventy two. Headcount; Beaches are clear.
Truck seven, you have four or five cart people in the tunnel between
towers 14 and 15. I rate them a mild headache on the nuisance scale.
They'll be no trouble for your flockers. Hey, hey,.. I almost forgot! The
San Pedro gang's on vacation in the beautifully rustic city jail sunshine.
Aren't we lucky ducks?"

Some hoots and cheers kissed his ears.  "That about wraps it. " Garner
went on, "I hope happy, uneventful guarding fills your day."

A tenor voice piped on line, "Hey, Garner! Aren't you forgetting something?"

Garner Ellerbe felt about two dozen binoculars target him.  "Whaa?  Oh
yeah."  He got off his bike seat stretching the mic's cord behind him. With
his back to his motorcycle, he whirled the mic in the air like a lasso,
grumbling to himself. He bit his lip in concentration. At a crucial
point, he let go...

The mic arched high, bounced once off of the black leather seat  
and up again. The mic tail spinned and neatly hung itself up on its
own dash spigot clip.  Snick!

A thunder of applause, whistles and hoots drifted across beach
and water and from the radio.

Garner bowed graciously. Then he sat on his trusted "chariot"
to reflect.

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He had lost count of exactly how many water rescues, drug
busts, gang fights and missing craft calls he had under his belt.
The burly cop only knew that a lot of his reports or testimonies
proved to be the glue of making his criminal cases stick. A few of
the lifeguards had even become his closest friends.

The C.B. radio came alive in excited voice, "Way to hang it, Garner!
What was that? Twentieth in a row?"

Garner smiled. It was Jill Riley, a veteran Lifeguard of thirty. He could
almost see her strikingly fresh smirk and flaxen ponytail.  "Yeah.." he
answered her. "Something like that. Where are you posted today?"

"Backside rim, D@mn it all. If you are here in three, maybe I'll still
have enough chocolate eclairs left for you...."

"Shush, woman! My gut heard that. Don't you know I'm on a diet?!"

Jill answered knowingly, "Sure I do. That's why I'm having so much
fun trying to break it."

"You demoness..!" he moaned.

"Weakling pawn!" she taunted, "Try not to drool on your shirt."

Click.

Garner chuckled again, patting his stomach. That shrewd woman
would be the death of him sooner or later. He headed out to her tower
with a chorus of seabirds smoking over his head.

It was going to be a beautiful day indeed.

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South, at the very edge of the public beach, was Jill Riley's  
vision of h*ll.

Right next to her assigned tower was the exclusively private,
Billingsly's Club. Its peach adobe grounds and Queen's palms
smacked of the very eminence of money.

The beach there was filled with neat white metal tables and chairs,
shadowed under black and white striped umbrellas. An outdoor
bar nestled in between them on an island of black marble tiles.
Closest to the water was a decrepit, sun-peeled watch chair of white
wood seven feet in height.

Jill groaned aloud at the sight of it for the chair belonged to the
club's very own, personal, Australian lifeguard.

"Trevor Cole.." she said aloud. The name was an oath in her mouth.
The man was attractive enough with his short, curly blond locks and
laughing green eyes,....but,.. Jill groaned again, even louder. The fact
that he was short was no comfort. The man was a walking gonad.

Trevor charmed every pretty thing on the beach with his greek physique
and Aussie drawl. Teenaged girls would fake a sprain in order to
have him pay attention to them. And he gladly embraced them all,
literally. Jill had even heard Cole had had one or two statutory rape
charges in his past; it was why the county would not let him
become a lifeguard on the public beach.

Jill looked at her watch. It was nine o'clock. There was already a
crowd of swimmers in her water...and his.... She looked about..

No Trevor.

Jill sighed and shifted her chair to give herself a clear view of the
club's ocean front as well as the county's area waters.

"Mornin babe?  Missed me?" a colorful voice asked.

Jill turned. It was him. She didn't miss a beat. "Can't say that I
did. I'm sure THEY missed you." She indicated the people
wading in front of his watch chair.

Trevor ignored the barb, "My..my..my. Don't you look lovely in a
red bathing suit."

Jill regarded Trevor's black and white striped boxers with a
grimace, 'New dress code, eh. Can't clash
with the umbrellas now can we?"

Image of jillmed.jpg Image of trevorumbrella.jpg

Trevor's smile never wavered, "How about dinner tonight?  A
little wine..  a little music...."

"..A little PEACE.." she countered, "You've been trying to ask
me out for over two months. Give it up, Trevor. I'm not
interested." Jill put on her sunglasses and looked out to sea.

Trevor laughed and strode over to his chair and climbed up into
it. He made a big show of flexing all of his visible muscles
noisily, affording Jill a sideways glance every now and then. He
caught her looking at him stretching his deltoids. "I know you
want me. So why don't you just face the facts..?"

Jill gave him a double take in utter disbelief and gagged in disgust.
She promptly picked up her director's chair and put a whole tower
wall and two hanging beach towels between herself and Trevor
Cole. "This is definitely the tower assignment from H*ll...." she
muttered.

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Across town, many miles from the ocean, a museum got a
nasty surprise. It was missing a crate of artifacts for its
new exhibit, Atlantis, Myth or Fact?

The curator turned on the UPS delivery man in a barely
contained fury,"Why does this always happen?! Whenever
we pay for a rush in advance, we always get shortended!
This is the third time this month, now,... I want  you.. to
go back to base...and tell your superiors that they have
two days to find it or else they are going to be minus one
very big client!"

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The man snapped to attention without thinking, "Yessir!" He
turned on his heels and left.

The curator took a deep breath and regarded his now cold
pasta rigoletto and rumpled cot in one corner of the
receiving alcove.  He put a hand to his sweat drenched brow,
"I have to stop living like this.."  

Resigned to his fate, he turned back to his shipping order.

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"Boy.. I could live like this forever.."

Eddie Kramer leaned out over the west rail of tower 34.
Water kissed sunlight glinted from the ocean and dappled his
tanned face and chest with vivid gold sparklets, "This is where
I belong. Right here. In the sun. Right now." he thought with
smug satisfaction. It was an easy day. Eddie had only had to
go out to warn two little boys away from the pier's barnacle
encrusted pilings. And that had been three hours ago. He bent
over and pulled a cold St. Croix with lemon out of his cooler and
tore the cap off with a twist. Its cool wet iced his throat with a
silky caress all of the way down into his stomach. He shivered
with a delicious chill, "Ooo.. that hits the spot."

Two girls lounging under the shadowing ramp giggled at his
antics. Eddie smiled and politely ignored their idle interest.
Secretly, he reveled in it. To his ears, that sound made the usual
beach babble dance. Life was definitely going easy on Eddie
"Buns" Kramer these days. It  hadn't always been that way.

It had taken Eddie most of his life to get the inner city
Philadelphia rebel out of his system. Eddie was an ex-con. As a
teen, he found himself thrown in prison for what he thought was
a healthy venting of steam built up from living in a shattered home.

At nineteen, Eddie Kramer was going nowhere. He was nobody.

Eventually, he learned that his old man had taken up with
prostitutes and drug dealers and his world became an endless
stream of failed suicide attempts. When Eddie was released from
prison, he was ordered to do community service. The only thing
that appealed to him even slightly was working at the municipal
public pool. He chose it solely for the fact that it was out of doors.
He figured he had spent too much time behind far too many locked
doors as of late.

Once there, Eddie's life took an unexpected turn. The pool
was a place of ...magic. People from all walks of life untouched
by abuse sought refuge in its cool waters. They did nothing but
screech and splash. A few just floated on their fat. But they were
happy...

Slowly, as a lifeguard, a beaten down half Chicano, half German
kid became a true guardianover their long hours of liquidy delight.
Eddie learned no misery could ever exist for long in that warm
crystalline blue. Some days, burnt red from the sun and stinking
of chlorine, all he wanted to do was quit and never come back.

But he didn't, because finally, Eddie Kramer had become.....somebody.



Eddie Kramer sighed contentedly and carefully sighted his target
with his frigid bottle of ice water.  He flicked a wrist and casually
sent an icy stream squarely down the center of a tawny back. A
high pitched screech rewarded his efforts.

Shauni McLane sat bolt upright barely securing the ties of her
sodden halter top,"Eddie Kramer!  That was the most....low down...
rotten sleazy trick you have ever pulled!"

The accuse just snickered from behind his binoculars. It was fun
pulling a fast one on a fellow rookie. Eddie scoffed and just
smiled some more. He liked what he saw. Shauni was a real
looker; she was an ex-model gone athletic. Her hair never ceased
to fascinate him. It was platinum and was always twisted in a
french braid in defense against the sea winds.

Best of all, her eyes were light filled, with the warmest shade
of the purest crystalline blue.

Image of shaunitower.jpg Image of billyerika1.jpg

"That was nasty and you know it." Shauni breathed, gasping
from the chilling river still running
into her shorts.

"Oh yeah?" came a new voice from the tower. Craig Pomeroy
stepped outside the door carrying a director's chair under one
arm, "So's sunbathing half naked for all the eligible bachelors
on muscle beach to see right in front of your fiance.."

Shauni's jaw dropped in utter astonishment, "Craig, I can't
believe you said that!" She made sure her sodden towel she
was shaking out flung wet sand all over the pair of them.

Eddie reached down over the top rail of the deck and caught
her in an affectionate bearhug, "He's right darlin'.. You've got
me insanely jealous of every man who merely flicks a tiny muscle
at you."  He smooched her lips dramatically.

Craig smirked, "You're gonna haveta get used to it, Eddie. It's
part of the package that goes along with one of these.." He
waggled the finger tht held a wedding band significantly.

Eddie cocked his maned head, "Is that so?...." he leaned
farther back on his chair's legs, "Well,....maybe I should......
take it BACK!" He charged Shauni down the angled ramp
grabbing for her engagement ring.  

She shrieked in mock fear, "No you don't! No way am I ever
going to part with this! I've had you on my line long enough, "
she grew soft and let herself be captured, "And... I'm not ever
going to let you go..."

"Oooo , that sounds so romantic.." Eddie crooned.  They kissed.

Craig smacked his forehead and looked skyward, "I can't
believe these two were voted the most professional lifeguard
team of the summer's rookie crop, I mean look at you ... All
gritty and smoochy..  Eeooww..    You are definitely behaving
like ....juveniles...I'll have you know.."

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Image of craiginitowerglass.jpg Image of craigleg.jpg

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A raw blob of hamburger sailed through the air and plopped
with a wet splat into the frying pan."And he SCOORRREEESS!!
Yes!  Hobie Buchannon is breaking hearts all over the basketball court
tonight, folks. That's two for O, dad. Go for it."

Mitch Buchannon smoothed his brown touseled hair and flashed
a withering look at his eleven year old son, "Now you're a
heartbreaker and Wilt Chamberlain? Well, prepare to  eat....my....
dust...."

Hobie planted his brown eyes into the most doleful expression
he could muster, "Dad, do you know how ridiculous a thirty seven
year old man looks balling up a chopped up wad of slimy cow guts
into a snowball?"

Mitch tried to ignore the innocent comment and failed at the
last second. His ball of hamburger decorated the kitchen
window in lovely strings of meaty gore.

"Got ya!" the boy smirked.

"No fair psyching out the competition!" Mitch laughed as he
pinned Hobie into a headlock and messed up his blond hair.
Mitch's hazel eyes reflected Hobie's energy and love of fun.

The petite boy broke free of the hold and plunked himself
down into a dining room chair in front of a food laden table,
"Rule number nine: No horseplay at the supper table unless
you can get away with it. Dad, your elbow twitched that time."

"No it didn't."

"Yes it did." Hobie reminded him again. "Same as last week."

"No way..." Mitch said dishing up a serving of potatoes onto
his plate, "I had everything under perfect, " he thunked another
scoop of mashies onto his platter, "control.."

Hobie pounced, "So why'd you miss?"

Mitch regarded his son over  Sports Illustrated, "Smart Alec.
Aren't you going to be late for Junior Lifeguards today?"

Hobie rolled his brown eyes, "Dad, as a lieutenant at work,
aren't you supposed to know when programs like junior life
saving, end for the week? Eddie called here last night to remind
you."

Image of venicecanal.jpg Image of hobiesad.jpg Image of mitchathomeclose.jpg

Mitch Buchannon laughed to himself, thinking.

Lieutenant, he thought. Newly promoted, kicked out of thongs
and shorts for a desk and phone. Was it all worth it? Was it
worth missing all of the action as an ex-beach guard? Mitch
glanced over to a framed eight by ten of Jill Riley, Garner
Ellerbee, Eddie Kramer, Shauni McLane, and a few others in
formal lifeguard uniform, all pouring champagne over his head
from their bottles.

They sure threw him a good party when they'd heard the news.

Image of aniwinepour.gif Image of nbccrew.jpg Image of aniwinepour.gif

Still, being in charge of Baywatch Operations was fascinating..
Mitch was the one who handled tower and boat assignments
and coordinated water rescues. It was a far cry from just watching
water for ten hours a day. And two weeks out of a year, Mitch
could stilll get his feet wet manning a tower with a rookie-in-training.....


"You're right, Hobie. I did forget your courses ended today. I
guess I have to eat more of these things.." Mitch stuffed a
huge forkful of fish sticks into his mouth.

Hobie chuckled, "Yeah.. mom used to be really good at keeping
you on track with stuff like..." he broke off with a pained expression,
looking up t his father with wide eyes, "Since...you know."

Mitch put down his magazine and put it away, "It's o.k., Hobie.
Talking about mom even though we're separated isn't  forbidden
or anything. Besides, open communication is the "in" thing now days
and yeah, she was good at that.  Have some milk."

Hobie was silent.

Mitch felt his discomforture and spoke just to fill the quiet,
"Listen Hobie. I'm....thinking about inviting her over for a while
to stay a few weeks in August before school starts. Gail's
already said yes, and.."

Mitch noticed how hard his own fingers were gripping the table's
edge. He forced himself to relax them, "You can't know how
much she misses you.. Have you read any of the letters she's sent
us?"

"No.." came the sharp reply.

Mitch tried not to show that his son's answer stung, "Wh--
Why not ? Hobie,,, Wh--"

"Because I didn't want to. " he replied. Hobie couldn't help
glancing up at his father's face. He saw the hurt barely concealed
in his eyes. A sudden stab of guilt coursed through him and he
found himself saying, "She can come here. That is, if she can
stop drinking so much."  The boy's tears flooded forth, unbidden,
"I- I- I miss her too, dad. But it gets so hard acting normal around
her. When she's here with you, I can't help but feel like some
kind of football being bounced around between you guys whenever
you fight over me."

"Hey...hey..hey.." Mitch wiped a tear away from Hobie's cheek,
"It doesn't have to be that way any more now that I've...got
custody.  Maybe this visiting thing will be a chance for us to try to
become friends again. At least, it can be a start..."

Hobie thought of all the bad times the three had experienced
going through the divorce. And now, he was just about sick
of facing it any more. But...he thought, people do change for the
better. It was something both of his parents had taught him.

Hobie looked at his shoes, "O.k...let's.....give it  a shot.."

His dad's smile washed away any remaining doubt in Hobie's
mind, "Let's go for it!" the boy shouted.

"One for O, Hobster... Come here..." Mitch embraced his son.  

Hobie tapped him on a shoulder.

"Hmmm?" Mitch mumbled from inside their hug.

"She can come on one condition..."

"And what's that?" Mitch asked.

"Hamburger rallies are our secret.."

"Deal."

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Image of mitchhughob.jpg Image of venicepalosverde.jpg

**************************************************************
From:  "lafddispatcher" <lafddispatcher@y...>
Date:  Wed Feb 9, 2005  2:19 pm
Subject:  Confluence...

>"Sweetheart, can you open your eyes for me?" Johnny
>knelt beside her and began to take her vitals.

Immediately, Carly folded up into a grand mal seizure at just
a touch of his hands. "Roy, gimme the resuscitator. She's
gonna need it.." he said sharply, turning the convulsing twelve
year old onto her side to drain her mouth of food. Then
he looked up once Carly was ventilating well enough under the
positive pressure. "When did she eat last? I'm getting more
than just a bit under this suction."

Julie Hanson flushed red with stress and trepidation.
"We just finished having lunch with the other children. Is she
gonna be all right?"

"Ma'am, we're doing everything possible. Now, what
can you tell me about her medical history? Tell me everything
you can." Roy said, listening to her breath sounds over the
skin of her chest. Inside, he was happy the teachers had
had the foresight to remove her clothing down to her
underwear for safety. "Johnny, her lungs are clear. She
breathing?"

"Not very well. I've taken that over." Gage replied,
struggling to keep adequate oxygen pushing into
the girl's shaking body without injuring her.

Julie Hanson spoke quickly, moving her very upset
assistant, Lisa, to a chair to steady her. "Her name's
Carly Davison, and she's twelve. She's autistic because
of early seizures from a time when she had stopped
breathing. She's had none now for almost a year, until
today. This one is..is real bad.." she whispered, her fright
making her voice tremble.

Roy looked up from where he was laying out an
endotracheal tube in advance, even as he set up
the biophone to call Rampart Base. "Has Carly had
any other history of previous metabolic disturbances? Has
she eaten anything strange or new? Or played with a new
kind of school supply, like paint or with latex based clay?
Has she taken sick, developed a fever recently?" Roy probed.

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"No, nothing like that. Her mother Cory's been scrupulous about
keeping her daughter well cared for despite of being a paraplegic
and jobless, herself.." said the school nurse.
"Can you stop the convulsions? Carly's doctor told me that they
shouldn't be allowed to last any time at all. We were given these
to use in case Carly ever had a seizure while at school. But I haven't
had time to administer them yet." And she handed Roy a plastic
baggie full of torpedo shaped white capsules. "And here's the
authorization form signed by Mrs. Davison and Carly's doctor."

Gage took the bag and read the inscription on back of the silver
foiled packet and only glanced at the consent form.
"Valium, suppositories. Point four milligrams." Then he looked to
Officer Howard. "Vince, take over for me. We're gonna be busy
trying to get an I.V. started. She'll manage easy enough for
you in spite of these muscular contractions. Whenever her head
flips backwards between your knees, give her a shot from the valve."

"Got it." said the large sized African American policeman. He took
off his helmet, tossing it onto the lunch table and got to work.

Lisa, nearby, started trying to hide the fact that she was beginning
to cry. "Oh, Julie, things were going so well. We were supposed to
leave to go to the Santa Monica Beach tomorrow for the kids' yearly
Junior Lifeguards camping trip."

Johnny's head snapped up in surprise at their destination, but
he couldn't afford to comment. He got right down to getting
a second blood pressure off Carly as best he could while Roy
got on the line.

"Rampart, this is Squad 51. Come in."

##Go ahead, 51. ## said Dr. Joe Early, almost immediately.

"Rampart, we have a twelve year old female, with a history of
a prior severe seizure disorder which has led to early childhood
hypoxic autism. She's currently in a grand mal under active
ventilations on one hundred percent O2. Uh, Rampart, her air
passages are free of spasming and clear of any gastric debris."
reported Roy. "And her last bad seizure was over a year ago.
BP's at least 90. I'm getting a radial. Pulse's real tachy."

##10-4, 51. Do you have parental consent?##

"That's affirmative, Rampart. A written note from a school
RN via a doctor to treat for this condition."

##Understood. Does she phase clonic long enough to initiate
an I.V, 51?##

Roy looked up at Johnny, who shook his head in an answer.

"That's negative, Rampart. The convulsions are now growing
too violent for needlework. However we do have the child's
prescribed rectal Valium. Its dosages are in .4 mg/kg increments."

##Ok. Use a first and second, 51. But don't exceed more than
1 mg per minute trying for her sedation. After those two doses,
wait it out, until you can establish a Lactated Ringer's I.V. TKO.
See if her breathing returns. If it doesn't, sedate to paralysis by
any route Valium to get her ET intubated and supported
on ambu. Keep in mind that she may just as quickly regain
consciousness after the postictal state into a full recovery.
Be prepared to handle that particular outcome if you do
utilize that airway. Treat her for shock. I want vitals every five
minutes and transport as soon as possible.##

"10-4, Rampart. Rectal Benzodiazepine times two.
On apnea after cessation, ET intubate following
full sedation; otherwise, manual ambu only. I.V. Ringer's
to maintain." Roy looked up at the sound of an ambulance
approaching. "Rampart, looks like our ride's here. Our ETA
will be ten minutes."

##Bring her in without sirens, 51. Draw a purple top
for a glucosal analysis, anticubital A.S.A.P., and an ice
slurried red for an arterial blood gas. Bring both of
them, Carly's forms and any other medications belonging
to her along with you. Send an EKG en route.##

"Affirmative..Draw a purple and iced red, transport consent and
prescriptions. Lead two is coming in ...two minutes.." said Roy.
He set down the phone to help Johnny glove up and position
Carly best to sedate her.


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