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Then Roy yelled after Johnny. "Hey Johnny! What do you got?" "I got four Code F... This guy's got a ton of broken ribs on the left side. I'm finding signs of marked flail chest. And he's having a lot of trouble breathing. The O2's not helping. Gonna have to stabilize this first before we move him out. Man, don't these guys believe in flack vests and helmets?" "Nah, " Roy said tightly. "They don't want to wear them because of the extra weight." "That's gotta change. Oh, man. Look around us. This is a just a senseless massacre..!" Gage swore. "I don't make the rules." Roy replied. "No, you just support the industry by condoning them with bets on the horses instead." Johnny snapped as he carefully had some track crew help him roll the moaning injured jockey onto his bad side once he had been immobilized. Roy tactfully didn't say anything. The motion drove the wounded man awake and he began to swear a stream of words that weren't in understandable english. Marco calmed him in animated Spanish getting a quick history and verbal account of injury from him. Kelly and Stoker were hard at work with the hose. Stoker was holding the horse's head straight out so the heat overwhelmed colt could breathe while Chet played a powerful stream of icy water over his head to cool down his brain pan as rapidly as he could. Soon the horse began snorting in tight gasps and his legs began to kick out as he started snapping out of his unconsciousness. "Look out!" said a few of the starting gate guys and they jumped down from the tractors with ropes to tie around the colts legs so he wouldn't hurt the firemen trying to help him. |
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A gnarled old trainer huffed and puffed his way up to Chet and he patted him in the shoulder. "Easy. Ok, keep it up boys, just like that. The crew's got his legs pinned. Now, play the water over the rest of him. Get his chest first. Then everywhere but the legs for that will cause the tendons to bow permanently if they're cooled too fast. Don't want him irreversibly lame." "Sir?" said Stoker, startled at the trainer's sudden appearance. "Can we do anything for the other racers down around us? We have an extra hose." "Nah. They've cooked too much in the sun. Ain't nothing gonna wake em now. It's too late. We can only save this young colt here." "But.." Kelly started up. "Just keep working young man.." the wizened trainer told him. He sighed and got up from his crouch and wandered over to the dead stallion in the dirt with the blood filled nose. He stepped on the horse's flank and pressed down with a foot, cocking his head when he heard the telltale gurgle of lungs drowned in an artery burst. "Oh, Dusty Schraeder. Now you've gone too far." Near him, Gage was writing down the vitals he had obtained on his patient. "Don't tell me. Skipped Lasix treatment to cut budget corners with a little insurance money collection on the side?" The older man in the straw hat looked up at the dark eyed paramedic who had spoken to him. "Fraid so. Oldest track scam in the book 'cept for calcium stunting to cause bone failure." the trainer said. "You know about horses, young man.." "I know a bit.." Johnny said. "I have a ranch full of em. Excuse me.." and he started to relay his medical information to Cap via his walkie talkie. |
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***************************************** From : Sam Iam <lafddispatcher@yahoo.com> Subject : [EmergencyTheaterLive] Sticky Situations Date : Sat, 8 Mar 2003 23:16:01 -0800 (PST) Acknowledgements to P. Keiper for providing an EMT scenario allowing for a believable slide downhill. Acknowledgements to Dr. Jeff Seltun on giving me the doctor speak. Thank you Sue Hampton ER RN/EMT-D/FF for the IV type pointers. --------------- "Squad 51 to Engine 51. Uh, Cap, advise L.A. that we have multiple fatalities here. Numbered four." Johnny Gage lowered his voice so the kindly trainer nearest him standing over the dead, bled out racer, couldn't overhear. "And... ask for a police response. I have reason to believe this pileup wasn't an accident." Then he spoke louder with a heads up glance at Roy for his history.. "Stand by for vitals on two victims, Engine 51." ##10-4, Squad 51. .............L.A. has been notified. Standing by and awaiting vital signs.## Cap replied. Johnny Gage bent over his agitated victim. "Hey.. senor..Can you hear me? Just try to relax. Strapping ya on this board's just a precaution. Now you've got some broken ribs here that we need to take care of. Just try to keep from moving around okay? Having ya on your side like this is gonna help you breathe better. Marco, keep holding him just like that. If you have to, get some of those guys over here to help you." Marco spoke a few short words in spanish and two members of the grounds crew came and knelt by them to help hold the injured man in position. "Como te llama?" Lopez asked the injured jockey. "Jose' Rivero. Aiiyy.." said the man irritatedly. The jockey continued to swear and cuss in spanish but his anger wasn't directed at Gage or Lopez. It was aimed towards a second trainer who was staying well away from the dead thoroughbreds. The man was dispassionately chewing tobacco as he watched track officials taking photographs of the dead horses and riders. The fallen jockey swept off his oxygen mask and spit in insult as he continued to glare at the dark dressed man. "Jefe Schraeder! Hablas usted con tu' ahora. Por que? Mis amigos son muerto! Por nada!!" cried the wounded racehorse rider and he once more tried to lift his head up. "Y mi caballo is infermo sol malo porque de tu!" Gage held him down firmly by the shoulders. "Hey, hey.. Now settle down. That C collar's there for a reason. Stay still. Now tell me what's wrong? Your breathing's a little off... Listen to me.. Hey..Where else are you hurting besides your chest here?" The jockey ignored Gage until Marco grabbed him by the face firmly, motioning for him to look him in the eyes intently. "Eschuchas!..Nosostros son ayudar. Donde es su dolor?!" The jockey tried to pull away from Marco's grasp, and locked up in agony on the long board, ignoring both firemen as he continued to rant at Dusty Schraeder standing just within range of eyesight. Lopez shook his head in frustration and glanced up at Johnny. "I told him to listen to us and that we're trying to help, but he's not answering me about where else he's hurting." Johnny looked at Marco. "What DID ya get from him? He's off in his own little world here. Man, if I didn't know better, I'd say he's out for vengeance." he said drawing out his clothes shears from his hip holster. Gage began to cut away the stained orange and brown silks from the man's torso for a closer survey. "Set that 02 back onto his face again Marco. He's getting a little cyanotic." Marco nodded his head moving the clear plastic mask back over the man's struggling mouth. "His name is Jose' Rivero. He is begging his boss for a reason why his friends died and he's blaming him for his horse being sun sick like he is." "That guy over there?" Johnny pointed to Dusty Schraeder. "Yeah.." Johnny looked up at the black cowboy hatted Texan and felt an immediate dislike for the man. ::But he's something for Vince to worry about when he gets here.:: His eyes then swept to the colt Mike Stoker and Chet Kelly were trying to save with the assistance of the kindly old trainer. The colt was now resting on his belly, quivering like a newborn as he fought the rest of the way to wakefulness under the flowing stream of the fire hose. His soaked coffee bay coat literally steamed in the sun in twisting curls of sour smelling humidity. A thick foam began to spread over his whithers and flanks. Johnny heard the kindly old trainer murmur that they were succeeding in drawing the young horse out of heatstroke. "That's it. Just kidney sweat now.. That's a good sign." |
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"Is he going to make it, Mr. Farley?" Chet asked. The man he had learned was named Walter, didn't reply and the worried look on Kelly's face returned in force. Gage kept his face neutral as thoughts raced through his head. ::No, that will be up to his owners. Heat stroke recovery usually takes three months to half a year. That colt's got good lines. Hope his share holders make the right choice..:: Johnny thought glancing away from his coworkers. Gage looked down and swept agile fingers around Jose's head and down his body, looking for deformities. He found a small oozing gash on his chest that was alternately retracting in and burping out as the angry man respired. The tiny sucking wound was on the side away from the man's main ribcage injury. "Marco.. grab an occlusive dressing and tape it over this wound here. Seal it off only on three sides. Looks like this laceration's penetrated through into his chest. He must have fallen on something sharp when his horse went down." "Got it.." Lopez said. Johnny felt along the jockey's sweating chest thoroughly but found grating, moving bones only on the flailed side. He snatched for his stethoscope out of the drug box and listened to the holed side carefully, then compared the breath sounds he heard there to the ones under the rib fractures. He grunted, making a mental note and took another set of vitals before finishing the rest of his survey on the jockey. He found no further injuries. Johnny returned to the man's throat and felt the cooling skin in the area carefully and over his chest once again. Then he looked at how the rider's larnyx sat in relation to the rest of his neck by sight as he reassessed the man's consciousness level and checked his pupils. Gage nodded at Roy, who had just completed his secondary survey of the unconscious woman rider. DeSoto had his helpers carry the girl closer to Johnny and the drug box until both their victims were side by side, head to head, nearest all the equipment. Roy crouched over the EKG monitor case and he opened it. "She's stable. The 02's keeping her in good color." he said, handing Johnny his pad of notes. "Add one more thing. She's got a open fracture of her left radius and ulna, with sluggish perfusion. I immobilized her arm in the best position I could find and she's still got neural responses and pulses in her hand and fingers but they're degrading. She may have torn an artery or vein internally. I'll get your victim patched in for ya on Lead Two." "Okay.." Johnny relayed to Captain Stanley on his hand held radio once more. "Engine 51. This is HT 51. We're set for a medical relay to Rampart." ##Go ahead, HT 51.## Cap Stanley watched as Vince and a detective car pulled up. He re-established communications on the biophone that he had perched on a track rail post, with apprehension. "Rampart, this is Engine 51. I'll be relaying from Squad 51 in 2. They are still inaccessible on the horse track and out of effective biophone communications range." ##10-4, 51. Standing by.## said Dixie. Once again, Captain Stanley cursed the whole idea of Santa Anita's turf and dirt race tracks being set into a bowl just so two lakes could grace the racing infield's garden grove of Queen's palm trees. ::Stupid design. Even if having that extra water there is a boon for any future fire call. At least Roy's EKG telemetry will get out.:: Johnny spoke into his HT to Cap. "Engine 51, Victim One. Male, age approximately 19 at 105 pounds. Vitals signs are; Pulse 124, respirations are 20 and shallow, BP is 90/62. Pupils are equal and reactive. He's diaphoretic, conscious, and emotionally agitated. He's on fifteen liters O2. I've found pardoxical breathing symptoms with a large flail segment on his left side. He has a sucking chest wound to his upper right chest, now occluded. I'm hearing rales on the left and diminished breath sounds on the right. Subcutaneous emphysema is present about the neck and upper chest. He has been immobilized and positioned flail side down. His EKG is showing sinus tach. Sending you a strip, lead two." Cap relayed the information and soon Joe Early responded. ##10-4, Engine 51. Tell Squad 51 to start a large bore IV of Normal Saline with Lactated Ringers. Run in a 500 cc bolus initially until his BP comes back up again, then leave it TKO. Have them watch for signs of further breathing difficulty. I suspect a pneumothorax. EKG is now showing sinus tach at a rate of 130. Splint the flail segment by taping only the effected side until his breathing improves. Prepare to assist his ventilations if his resp rate increases over 24 times a minute. Treat for shock. Tell them I want a new set of vitals every five minutes.## Cap replied. "10-4, Rampart. Stand by." and he shared the orders with his two paramedics still working a quarter of a mile away down on the final turn. He soon got Roy and Johnny's confirmation on the orders, and he immediately, received information about their second victim over his HT. Cap listened, memorizing details. Then he called in his men's second medical data set to Joe Early on the biophone. "Rampart. Victim number two. A female approximately 24 years of age. Weight 102 pounds. Found prone over a rail. Was conscious, now comatose. Vitals signs are, pulse 90, respirations are 14, BP 100/76. Pupils are equal and reactive, but sluggish. She's been fully immobilized and is on fifteen liters 02. My paramedic notes probable neck and back injuries. There's quivering in the upper extremities and bilateral positive Babinski's finding on both legs. He earlier reported a growing lack of sensation on her from lumbar three on down. There appears to be no palpable spinal deformity. Victim has an open fracture of the lower left arm. Circulation and sensation is partially compromised despite splinting in position of alignment." Cap got his followup on the woman for a precautionary IV and a rapid transport order. Inwardly, he hope the girl would get to surgery in time to save her arm and effect repair to stop the creeping paralysis she seemed to be suffering. He finished correspondence between his men and the hospital. Soon, he waved the Mayfair to the road where he was standing as it arrived in full siren. "We're gonna load up right here. The paramedics are bringing in two victims from out there on longboards.." he told the attendants running to his side. "The dirt's too soft for your rig to handle." The two men nodded and intently watched the group of people, bearing the two jockeys in between them all, walking their way. --------- Cap wasn't surprised to see Detective Crockett flanking Vince Howard when he had put the biophone into the awaiting ambulance. "Vince. Detective Crockett. My man Gage thinks our racing accident wasn't accidental. I trust his judgement since he's a pretty good horseman off duty." "We got any witnesses?" Vince asked. Cap replied. "Two. But one is unconscious and the other is in no shape to talk right now. Both jockeys. And I think Johnny was hinting about learning something from one of those trainers milling about, too. Nothing concrete, just a hunch I got from the tone of his voice." The tall quiet African American detective thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Ok, we'll take it from here, Captain. Thank you. I'll have a talk with your paramedics once they're through with their run. Call me once the squad's back at the station?" he said, heading off the fire captain's worry that the detective would get in the way of his men. "Sure will." Cap said. He took the card the detective handed him and pocketted it. He started off towards Kelly and Mike as they headed back to the grandstand apron. Smiling craftily as Cap disappeared around a bend, Detective Crockett took one look at the deep track dirt and then once more at his shiny black shoes, before he unhesitantly stepped ankle deep into the sandy loam to rendevous with 51's medics on the far turn. |
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Hank Stanley intercepted Chet and Stoker as they returned to the paddock side road dragging their hoses behind them. "I couldn't see what you were doing. Are they gonna make it?" he asked about the horses. "Only one, Cap. Our helping trainer, Walter Farley, said we got there too late for the others. Apparently, racehorses cook to death internally on hot days like this if they take a fall more than halfway through a race. He said it happens because their metabolisms are kicked in overdrive." Kelly said dully. Cap sighed in sympathy. "Oh, I'm sorry. I got some good news at least. Two of the jockeys are still alive.." "That's great, Cap." Stoker said without enthusiasm. Come on, Chet. Let's get these hoses packed." and Hank watched his two disheartened men plod dejectedly back to the Engine with their load. Cap called out after them. "Stoker, would you snag a ride with a track steward cart to go fetch the squad? You're gonna have to follow the ambulance with it. Gage and DeSoto really have their hands full right now." "Right, Cap." Mike replied and he jogged back the way he had come, leaving Chet to do the heavy work. In sympathy, Cap pocketed his HT and helped Kelly out by climbing onto the hose bed of the engine to be primary hauler. -------------------------------------- "Crockett! I don't have time to talk with you now.." Gage said distractedly as he and the grounds crew and paramedic struggled to carry equipment and victims to the far rail and the firm concrete apron beneath the grandstand. "I just want to ask you a few questions." The detective said, lifting his feet high and stumbling a bit in the loam. "Fine..then help me by taking over.." he said, snatching the detective's hand and forcing him to grab the ambu he was using on Jose'. "Bag him when he breathes in and also when he doesn't. Twelve times a minute." he ordered. "But uh, he's still awake." "Yeah. I know. Assisting him like this is helping splint some rib fractures he's got inside. Marco tells me Jose' says it hurts like h*ll but he's grateful for the help." |
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"Ok. I got it." Crockett began squeezing the ambu bag after quickly picking up how Johnny had been managing. He opened his mouth. "I know Spanish, too. Maybe I can kill three birds with one stone by--" Gage got into Crockett's face. "If you ask Jose' any question other than, 'How are you doing?' I'll deck ya.." Crockett closed his mouth. The tall detective nodded dutifully, outmaneuvered, and just squeezed the bag. Johnny moved Jose's IV bag from under the boy's shoulder to his own teeth to hold as he turned up the dial to wide open when he saw the young teen pale another shade of gray. "Let's move faster." |
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