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Johnny felt a hand weakily clutching his own. Gage leaned down. "Hold it Crockett. Looks like Jose's trying to say something." It was a rare moment of absolute clarity for the young teen. Jose' met Johnny's eyes meaningfully and he gasped as the ambu was lifted away. "Don't let them kill that horse. Save him, senior. I pay you t-" he said in very very broken english. The effort to speak took his breath away as Jose's pain bit down hard. His lungs cramped up yet again. Gage gestured Crockett to help the teen breathe once more on the bag valved 02. Jose' was so agitated, that Gage caught the kind old trainer, Walter Farley's attention. "Hey, Mr. Farley!" "Yeah?" the old man shouted back from where he was helping the colt stand. "I'm that colt's insurance policy. Do everything you can for him, ok?" Johnny said. Walter smiled. "For the kid?" "Yeah.. for the kid.." Gage replied. Walter Farley gave Johnny Gage a thumbs up in encouragement and a slow nod of grateful appreciation. Johnny saw Jose' start to calm immediately. "Gracias, senor." Jose' sighed softly. ---------- In the ambulance, Crockett took full advantage of playing an active part in Jose's care by letting his curiosity get the best of him. "This is fascinating.." Squeeze. "What's that taped to Jose's chest?" Crockett asked from his place at the jockey's head. "Looks like a metal ingot."he shouted over the wail of the sirens as they sped to the hospital. Johnny didn't look up from where he was setting up yet another IV for the teen rider sitting across from where Roy crouched over his own patient lying on the passenger bench. He ducked his head self consciously. "Walter Farley gave me one of the colt's lead saddle weights to use to splint the unstable section of ribs here." Johnny pointed. "Oo, I'd hate to be the groom who has to return that saddle to the winner circle's weight scale." The detective quipped, mentally filed away the name Gage gave him for future reference. Gage didn't laugh. "Why would someone put a weight on anyone with broken ribs like this?" Crockett asked to lighten the feeling of tension in the ambulance. Gage grimaced with impatience as he reached for a BP cuff. "I'd love to talk about flail chest protocol with you all day but I'm rather busy right now, detective.." and he buried his ears in stethoscope to tune him out. |
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Crockett blinked and jerked a free thumb at Gage in a questioning gesture to Roy, offering a little what's-with-him? shrug. Roy looked up from rechecking his patient's breathing and pulse rate. "Johnny gets a little intense about anyone under his care. Especially if they're critical." Crockett's face fell into an immediate frown. "You mean?" he looked down at the increasingly groggy Jose' beneath the ambu's face mask. "Yeah, collapsed lung. And it's getting worse." Roy said. "Try to cut my partner some slack. He's just staying focused." he said, quickly and sharp. Then he softened, raising his eyebrows. "Good bagging. Keep it up just like you're doing it, Crockett. Any ease we can give Jose' now is a point in our favor.." "How's the girl?" Crockett asked DeSoto. "Fair. She's might be trying to wake up here." he said, readjusting her O2 mask so it stayed out of her eyes. "Did you manage to get her name before she blacked out?" Roy said. "Not directly. Her name's Mary Kenner. I got it from the betting tote board using her mount's number. It always lists trainer and jockey." ::And another piece of the puzzle.:: the detective mused. The rushing Mayfair ambulance turned a corner as it left the Santa Anita Track property. Crockett noticed a change in Jose' about the same time Johnny did. "Hey, Gage, he's not taking in the bag breaths too well. I'm getting a weird resistance and he's not even trying to breathe in anymore." "Just keep ventilating him exactly as you are." Johnny straddled Jose's gurney and listened close to both sides of the man's chest in haste. "D*mn." He felt Jose's neck and he looked at Roy. "I got absent breath sounds unilaterally and he's starting to show trachael deviation. I'm seeing jugular vein distension, too. Gotta be a tension pneumo." Roy reached over and ripped off the occlusive patch Marco had placed earlier over the jockey's chest wound. He waited a beat, then replaced it down firmly over the jagged tear. "Did that help any?" Johnny listened again through his stethoscope. "Nah.. not enough to matter." On the EKG, Jose's heart rate jolted up into the low 140's and an alarm began to sound. Roy took a hasty BP. "It's down. 78/52." Johnny shouted. "Jose'..Keep trying to breathe on your own. We're going to help y--" He broke off belatedly. "Sh*t. I wish I'd taken Marco up on his offer to teach me Spanish. Crockett. You talk to him. Keep him calm." and he snatched the phone to Rampart. "Rampart this is Rescue 51, how do you read?" Joe Early was still on the intercom. ##Go ahead, 51. What's the trouble? I note Victim One's increased tachycardia.## |
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Gage told him Jose's new development. Brackett and Joe Early both met eyes in sudden worry. Kel said to Dix. "Have a chest tube set up in his treatment room. Looks like Johnny's gonna do his first needle chest decompression in the field. Joe, go ahead and give him the order. He can handle it." Dixie left to make the arrangements. Joe got back on the line.##51, pull over. You're going to have to relieve the building pressure with a pleural thoracotomy ASAP. Dr. Brackett concurs with me.## "10-4.." Johnny said and he got off Jose's gurney and slapped the driver peek window twice, loudly. They felt the Mayfair grind to a halt at a curb just as Jose' fell into deep unconsciousness. Seconds later, Mike Stoker opened the outer doors, and looked into the ambulance cab. "What's the problem?" he asked, knowing the rig never stopped unless it was for an invasive treatment. "Chest tap for a tension pneumo. It's pretty far along. Stick around." Roy told Stoker. Wordlessly he thought. ::Let's hope we don't need Stoker for some CPR here.:: Crockett cleared his throat. "Oh, boy.." he said when Johnny drew out a long needle and butterfly valve. "You're gonna stick him with that?" he said. Gage said. "Yeah. If you can't handle it, I'll have Stoker take over f--" "Just do what you have to, Gage." Crockett said continuing to bag Jose' steadily. "You're wasting time." Crockett loosened his tie and wiped some sweat off his upper lip. Johnny's face cracked into a slight smile for a moment before Roy swabbed down the proper area over the right side of Jose's chest. Then his expression melted into one of concentration. "Ok,... Roy. I'm going into the second intercostal space anteriorly.. Don't hold your breath..." Gage said, doing just that. "Crockett. Hold off just a sec. Start ventilating him double time as soon as I have this thing out again." Johnny felt his needle punch through into the abnormally gaping pleural space and a loud rush of air hissed out immediately through it. "Bingo. Tension pneumo diagnosis is confirmed." He chuckled withdrawing the needle slowly. "Ok, Crockett. I'm through." he said, throwing the hollow lance into the sharps disposal bin on the wall. "It's out." Crockett opened his eyes and smiled when he felt an immediate change as he began to work the ambu again. More oxygen seemed to be getting into the teen's lungs. "Hey, I think he's better." Gage listened to his handywork. "Yep. He sure is. Breath sounds are back. Just some new minor rales on the right. Might be pulmonary contusion noise cropping up." he sat back and sighed grabbing up the phone as the EKG settled back into a slower, more effective sinus rhythm. "Rampart. Chest decompression was successful." ## 10-4, 51. Is the boy unconscious? ## "That's affirmative, Rampart.." ##What are his vital signs?## Roy had already anticipated that need. "BP 112/86, Respirations unassisted are 8. Pulse is 110 and regular. He was getting pretty tired before his new complication." ##Go ahead and intubate him for more effective ventilations and support for those rib fractures. Have two mg's Diazepam IV set to use to keep him sedated PRN. Return his drip rate to TKO following any usage.## "Two mg's Diazepam PRN and intubate for controlled ventilations. IV to TKO following any sedation med. 10-4, Rampart. Our ETA is six minutes." Roy tapped Johnny on the shoulder and handed him an unwrapped endotrach tube to which Crockett said. "Y-You're going to stick him with that?" Even Mike Stoker cracked a grin. |
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******************************* From :"Roxy Dee" <laterrapincabesa@hotmail.com> Subject : Covering Bases~~ Date :Tue, 11 Mar 2003 22:52:16 +0000 Dixie and Joe walked out to the main ER desk and both sighed heavily as Jose' Rivero's rolling gurney left for surgery. Crockett followed them out of the exam room, trailing after Johnny as he headed straight for the call station coffee pot. He was shaking his hands and massaging them to work out some cramps. "I don't know how you paramedics handle that bagging thing without your fingers falling off. I don't think I'll be able to lift a fork by dinner time." Johnny laughed in sympathy. "A typical week sees us breathing for people that way for hours. Especially on all the bad cardiac runs. Guess I never noticed what a work out ambu ventilating is probably because we lug fire hoses around so much." he admitted. Then he eyed Joe. Gage asked. "Hey, doc." he said pouring himself a cupful and then enough for everyone else. "Do you think that rider'll pull through?" he asked. "I know that sometimes, the pulmonary contusions that come afterwards with broken ribs that extensive, can get a little tricky sometimes." "He's young and strong." Dr. Early sniffed, rubbing his nose in careful thought. "You saw how much having that chest tube inserted improved him. I think that a lifetime in the racing saddle will be his ticket to a speedy recovery. Jockeys are top notch athletes and they're usually in terrific shape. I've heard it's hard to make them lose their focus about anything as trivial mere broken bones." he joked. "They always stay on their game and never lose sight of what's important to them." "I sure got an earful of that.. I think Jose' talked me into an arrangement I just may regret." Johnny groaned. "Oh?" Dixie commented sipping her coffee carefully. Roy had rejoined them from his treatment room where Mary Kenner was getting her fractured arm and torn radial artery emergency repaired by Dr. Brackett and he grinned, leaning on the wall spinning the walkie talkie slung on one wrist absently. "The thoroughbred Jose' was riding got a little too much sun after his little tumble in the jockey pileup. Mr. Rivero wouldn't relax for us until he knew he had someone lined up to step in to accept the horse's care costs in lieu of any move the owners might make to put him down." Dix's face split into a wide grin, which Joe echoed. "You didn't?" Gage cleared his throat uncomfortably and just sipped his coffee. Crockett chuckled, folding his arms across his elbows in amusement. "Now that might be kinda costly, Mr. Gage. You just might have entered into a binding verbal agreement which is well on the way to actually acquiring him." "What?! I did?" Johnny said, nearly spitting out his drink. Crockett moved in for the killing tease. Yeah... I've seen handshake deals out there going on all the time. No one bothers with paper work. It's all on the honor system. Heh. I hear that the average race horse costs, what? Five to ten thousand dollars for those who regularly bring in the purses?" "At least." Joe Early said. Gage's mouth fell slack in a stunned "ouch." His mind was still working on the idea of racehorse assumed ownership. Crockett smoothed down his detective jacket's lapels. "I wouldn't worry about it, Johnny. Who knows? Maybe you can get your other fire crewmates to help you cover all of his shares by splitting costs among all the shift assignments." Johnny's eyes boggled out as he kicked into scheme gear. "Say.. that's true! I mean, we all chip in already and share costs for our food." he insisted. "Oh no.." Roy said blandly, his smile dropping off his face into one of sheer dread. "Johnny, I wouldn't exactly say a racehorse is the same thing as a package of T-bone steaks." "Knock it off, Roy. How are a few bucks up front gonna matter? It's all for a worthy cause. It's not like we're going to the stock market to gamble it it all away." "That's just what I'm afraid of." Roy said with a frown. "Everything about owning a race horse IS a gamble, Junior, in case you haven't noticed. I sure did. And I only like to bet on 'em." he voiced in dire insistence. But his partner was oblivious. "Listen, Johnny, you can talk to the guys about this later. All I know is that I'M not letting you talk me into this thing, no matter how hard ya try.." and Roy picked up the drug and IV resupply box Dixie had prepared for them and made tracks for the squad where Mike Stoker was waiting. "See ya later, guys." he said to Crockett, Dix and Joe. "Hey.. Roy.. Wait a minute!!" Johnny said, eagerly setting after his departing partner. Then he remembered. "Oh, heh. Sorry, all. Bye Joe, Dix, Crockett. Thanks for everything. I'll be seeing you.. Excuse me here... I gotta go talk some SENSE into my thick headed partner. He's talking crazy..." he insisted with quickly gesturing fingers. All three nodded and rolled their eyes as Johnny quickly darted around people in the busy hospital corridors in hot pursuit of Roy DeSoto's retreating back. "I think you created a monster.." Dixie mumbled to Crockett as she refilled their cups to the brim once more. "Heh, heh, heh. Actually I think it's more along the lines of the fact that I just created a firehouse full of bonafide saints, Miss McCall... " Crockett said, rocking back on his heels. "Have a wonderful afternoon. Give me a call when Miss Kenner's awake, would ya? I'd like to speak with her about the accident today." "Sure thing." Joe said, looking up from Jose's patient chart, where he was dictating notes. Crockett left, heading for the police station to read Vince's crime report that he had ordered the officer to gather from the track incident's trainers and uninjured jockeys. ----------------------------------------------- Racehorse trainer, Dusty Schraeder, entered his barn full of green thoroughbreds. He immediately headed for his one lone groom tending to a wheel barrel full of straw and manure that he had just cleared out from the dead stallion's stall. He was halfway down the aisle leading to the rusty dumpster set outside for just such material. "Hey, Manuel! Paramiso, mi amigo. Uno momentito.." Dusty called out, tossing his black five gallon cowboy hat onto the tack tree hook holding racing bridles as he strode into the dark, fan noise filled barn row. The tiny old jockey Mexican native turned at his jefe's voice, "Senor Schraeder?" he coughed as he pulled on his cigarette and he rubbed his ripped and soiled T shirt absently with tobacco stained gnarled fingers clean, to offer out a handshake of congratulations. "He died fast, no? It is really a seemple thing to kill a horse.." Dusty immediately backhanded the little man in the face, sending him over the laden wheel barrel onto the shoddily raked earthen floor. "That was sloppy..." |
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Waste soiled straw spilled onto Manuel as he struggled to his feet in fear. "Senor? Que? No Comprendo ! I do it good enough. Did he not go down on the final turn?" his cigarette smoke raspy, south of the border voice cracked. "You imbecile!" Dusty screamed. "I'm not talking about Charismatic! I'm talking about his STALL!.. I'm not smelling any Lasix in here." he said, walking into the decrepid box stall, sniffing the air. "How are we going to prove ourselves innocent of his sudden death if there's no drugs showing up in his p*ss hole?" He angrily drew out a syringe full of the antibleeder from his jacket and bit the needle cover off. He squirted out half in a careless rain into the urine hole at his feet and the rest he injected into the horse's water bucket. "Now I don't wanna have to tell you twice. Don't TOUCH that bucket." "Si, senor, lo ciento.. " Manuel said, immediately recovering his battered L.A. Angels cap from the muck on the floor as he wiped away the blood from the side of his mouth. " The aqua is no toca, si. A-And I not forget the next time about the shots to the dirt like you do now." he said. "Sorry.." Dusty's anger melted away and he tossed the spent Lasix syringe into Manuel's wheel barrel and helped the shaken man pitchfork its tumbled load back inside of it. Then he drew his crooked groom under one arm. "I didn't mean to hit ya, buddy. I....wasn't thinking. I hate it when we have to kill a perfectly good horse just for appearances. Let me make amends?" he said, pulling out a fat wallet full of cash. He started counting out bills one at a time before the small man's cowering face. Manuel's toothless grin erupted almost as big as his eyes and he greedily held out his dirty hands for the payment. Dusty said, "Here. Two hundred for the job. Just like we agreed. And another fifty just for the h*ll of it. You did good my friend. Even your rival Jose's horse, Swale, got hoof clipped into a good fall. Jose' was wrecked up bad. He won't be riding for months. Looks like it's clear sailing for you AND me. Now go get some ice for your face. And take the night off. I'll finish up here." Manual scrambled away, mumbling in gratitude and he quickly climbed onto his ramshackle seatless bike and pedalled off for the barn dorms. Dusty Schraeder knew that by sundown, his way ward groom would be in no condition to talk to the police and track officials he knew would be stopping off in the barn for the standard post mortem stall tests. ::With 250 greenbacks in hand, I doubt Manuel will be sober enough then to even know his own name..:: the evil trainer thought. |
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