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The Story Unfolds... Season Two, Episode Eighteen.. §§ A Fish Out Of Water §§ Debut Launch: February 1st, 2005. ------------------- ********************************************************************* 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. |
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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. |
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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. |
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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?" |
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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. |
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"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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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 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." |
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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. |
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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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************************************************************** 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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