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******************************************************************************* From: Katherine Bird <kathbird01@y...> Date: Mon Sep 20, 2004 10:23 pm Subject: Salvage Hank Stanley gripped Chet Kelly's shoulder when he saw the stokes carrying Scott Kincaid being lifted from underneath the train. He noticed how unusually drawn the fireman's face was as he verbally stepped up the pace of the silent extrication team. 51's captain was about to ask him about it when Roy DeSoto, ambulance loading a young boy, gave his head a miniscule shake. "That man's downgrading into a black tag, Cap." the paramedic said, pointing to the bundle of triage tags swinging from his jacket's halligan tool for clarity. "Brackett's asked Chet to stay on a one to one with him...until there's an outcome, one way or the other." "You mean those paramedics working on Chet's victim won't be able to save him?" Captain Stanley asked. "Probably not. He has a penetrating abdominal hemorrhage that only rapid surgery can rectify." "But isn't Dr. Brackett working down there with you guys?" Hank puzzled. Roy looked down as he closed the ambulance doors containing Jeffrey Mathers and his father. "He's operating on a woman who has the same thing. This is her husband and son right here." he replied softly, smacking the back doors of the Mayfair to let the driver know that he could leave for Rampart. "That man told our team to rescue her instead of him. It was.... incredibly brave, what he did." Hank didn't know what to say and he watched Chet kneel down beside Scott Kincaid's head when the man began to stir as the high flow IVs started performing their function. "How long?" Cap asked, feeling sympathy for Chet and his difficult task. "Any time now." Roy DeSoto answered. Then he grabbed up his gear and joined Dixie, who was just as pale and emotionally glazed as Chet, for moving on to the next train car for triage categorizing. |
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Hank caught Chet's eye and held up his radio and tapped it with a finger in supporting emphasis before he returned to the Command Post to get word on the next extrication site assignment. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Scott looked up and saw a fireman crouched over him. "So you're the lucky guy, eh?" he coughed. "Sir, just try to relax.." Chet said, taking off his helmet. Kincaid started to laugh weakily, in acceptance of his situation. "It's really not so bad, you know." "What isn't?" Kelly asked. "Dying." whispered Scott, trying to focus his eyes. A paramedic from Ninety Nine's working over Scott's stomach immediately spoke up. He did not yet know how bad Scott's injury really was. He made a sound of negation. "Wrong answer, man." he warned his victim. "Nobody speaks the D word when my partner and I are on the job. It's a real downer." he firmly aimed at Scott. "Would you tell him how it is?" Kincaid tossed his head at Chet. "Better to burst their bubble now then later, kid." Kelly licked dry lips and interjected a reply when the Asian paramedic asked his partner about mechanism of injury findings. "Guys, Mr. Kincaid was freed from a four inch diameter pole that was driven completely through his body. This injury has a large exit wound which is hidden from the packing Brackett tried to use to staunch the bleeding. You can't see it because of the stokes sheeting. Kel tagged that black color for a reason. It's far too late to do anything." The paramedic didn't even acknowledge Kelly's input and he mumbled to his partner. "Everyone's an expert." and then he tuned Kelly out as they took vital signs readings on Scott and opened up a biophone channel to their hospital. Mr. Kincaid lifted a hand to the glove Chet had placed on his shoulder and he gripped it. "Promise me you'll get Julie to her son and husband." "Sir.. " "Promise me, fireman." "I will, Mr. Kincaid." "Tell her that it was worth going. Ladies are ....always first into the life boat." he grimaced sharply. Then his eyes widened and the shallow breaths under the O2 mask quickened. "My G*d, It's beautiful over there." he said looking at a point beyond his feet at the train. "Do you see all those people? I wonder who they are..." Chet looked up and saw only the damp fog and cherry flares lying on the ground in front of the Amtrak car. "Where?" He saw no one. When he looked down, the animation had faded out of Scott's eyes. "V-Fib!" shouted one of the paramedics, studying Scott's monitor. "I got the paddles.." answered the other. Kelly felt a smack against his stomach. It was an ambu bag. The blond paramedic said, "Do I have to show you how to use this?" he snarled. |
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Chet reluctantly took Scott's face into his hands and began bagging the arrested lawyer. Aggressive CPR soon followed with multiple shocks, including an IC epinephrine order, but the look of peace never left Scott's bloody face. It was that expression that Chet concentrated on until he was shoved aside when it came time for the ambulance doors to be closed by attendants. The Cadillac hearse ambulance bearing Kincaid's body lurched onto the roadway and filled the night with its obnoxious lights and siren. It retreated around the fire trucks into the distance. Chet watched it go for a long time before he rubbed the tears out of his eyes. Then he peeled off his work gloves one by one methodically and left them abandoned on the bumper of a fire truck. The smoky fog swallowed Kelly up as he turned to go look for Marco, Stoker and Captain Stanley. |
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was two days later at a rehabilitation check point. Station 51 had been on duty a full forty eight hours with only brief periods granted for rest and recharging in a nearby tent next to a chow trailer. All the passengers on the Amtrak had been located and processed. Dr. Brackett and Dixie McCall had gone back to Rampart as soon as all the train cars had been cleared. Johnny Gage rubbed his dirty face and nudged a dozing Roy with a foot where he was slumped uncomfortably on some boxes. "Want to go back to the First Aid Station and make a phone call?" "To ask about Julie Mathers ?" DeSoto wondered, fatigue lining his face. "Yeah. Day before yesterday, it looked like she was being resuscitated when they got her onto that chopper." "That was because of the anesthesia, Johnny. Not because she crashed." Roy mumbled, reaching for a wrinkled pear from a food box. "She's doing fine." Johnny frowned in irritation. "And you know that for a fact huh..." he said with mild exhausted sarcasm. "I do. I saw the EKG monitor when they passed by. I saw nothing atypical in her rhythm. She was just being breath supported." Johnny shot to his feet. "Yeah, well. That call will lift a whole lotta weight from my shoulders, and yours. Let's go." "Johnny now hold on. Y-You don't even know to which hospital she was flown." "I can guess." Gage answered after a short pause. "Didn't most of the victims from that section of the train go to Bethseda?" "The non critical ones did, yes. And most of the bodies we're recovering now are going there, too. But I heard all the priority cases went to other places. They rerouted randomly on to the next available trauma department when any hospital reached its capacity. First Aid won't have that information attached to any victim names. It's too soon." DeSoto reasoned. Johnny sat down heavily and set his head against the wall, closing his eyes. "I hate this aspect of my job. Not knowing how people turn out." "It's the price we pay for being first responders I guess." Roy said, getting up. "Come on, we better resupply the squad and go on stand by for the salvage crews in case there are any injuries." "I'm so tired, I can barely register how many fingers I'm holding up." he groaned, not moving. "We'll grab some more coffee once we get there." Johnny slowly followed Roy out to the squad. |
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Captain Stanley was positioned by the two Amtrak locomotive engines when his walkie talkie beeped with an emergency call. ##Engine 51, L.A. ## "L.A., this is Engine 51." ##Engine 51. Recovery crew spotters report an accident dust cloud near your vicinity. Possible vehicular. At the intersection of Court Crossing and Hwy 38. ## Hank scratched his chin, waving over Chet, Stoker and Marco, giving them the sign that they were moving out on an active engine call. "Any ideas on how many people are involved?" ##Negative, 51. You will be first on scene. Time out : 11:17.## "10-4, Engine 51. KMG 365." And they loaded up and moved out full lights and sirens. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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****************************************************************** From: Sam Iam <lafddispatcher@y...> Date: Wed Sep 29, 2004 10:59 am Subject: Seat of the Pants Craig Brice sat in the nurses' lounge with Dr. Morton, puzzling over an observation that seemed like only he was noticing. Brice sipped his plain hot black coffee. He watched as staff members by the droves came and went from the room calmly despite the disparity leaping out at them. Finally, Brice just had to ask. "Dr. Morton..." "Hmm.." said the young interned resident without looking up from the top patient chart he was reading from a stack of a dozen. "May I ask a personal question of you?" Mike's eyes shot up in surprise. Craig immediately amended. "Stop me if I over step any boundaries." Mike grunted, giving the on duty paramedic his whole attention. "Why are you wearing a surgical mask?" asked Craig. "Oh, this.." Morton said, feeling the blue paper covering subconsciously. "I've grown so accustomed to wearing one these last few days that I had forgotten it was still on." he sighed, reaching for a beverage mug that naturally, wasn't there. "I was exposed to an unknown strain of meningitis from a patient with no I.D. The train crash emergency slowed up my being able to get a hold of her lab results before she was shipped out to another hospital. This is locally imposed isolation by Brackett's order until I get the information." Craig frowned. "You mean you can still work, even though you've been exposed to her illness?" "Sure, viral meningitis is very hard to catch, unless you're a care giver examining someone like I was for her. I'm just waiting to hear back whether or not Jane Doe's bug is Neisseria meningitidis or Haemophilus influenza Type B. The first is highly contagious through the air, the second, isn't, and other strains are usually unremarkable." Brice nodded his head, taking a bite of the pecan pie chunk he held poised on a fork prong. "Neisseria can kill in less than a day, I've read." Morton shrugged. "Dr. Brackett's given me some covering antibiotic. A cephalosporin called cefonicid. If it's viral, I'm not worried. I'm not geriatric or pediatric aged." Craig carefully considered. "Cefonicid. Dosage, 500 milligrams to 2 grams every twenty-four hours IM or IV." "That's right." Morton replied, unsurprised at Brice's encyclopedic memory. "And, I've been instructed to stay away from Johnny Gage." "Oh?" "He's had his spleen removed. If I'm a carrier, he'll be susceptible almost one hundred percent to any meningitis germ if he gets into close contact with it." "I didn't know that." Brice said. "Thank you for informing me of that fact." "Any time." Then it was Morton's turn to ask Craig about Bob Bellingham and his baby daughter's conditions. "They're both stable. Bellingham suffered only a moderate concussion. His little girl was just hypothermic and hypoglycemic. Dr. Early said she turned around vitals wise almost immediately after rewarming measures." "That's a relief.. Usually train wreck neonates fair poorly, even when they're not injured physically." Morton replied. Right then the white phone rang on the wall over the coffee machine. Craig got up and answered it, being closest. "Nurse's Lounge, L.A. County Firefighter Paramedic Craig Brice." He angled his head glancing up at Morton. "Doctor Morton, it's for you." Morton took the receiver handed to him as the other man returned to his seat and snack. He listened for a moment, and soon hung up. Then Mike peeled off his isolation mask and balled it up into his lab coat pocket. Brice smiled. "So, it wasn't Neisseria or Viral meningitis." |
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"Nope, hers was Streptococcus pneumoniae, the bacterial form that's the least deadliest. The Bethseda lab boys have just told me that my prescribed antibacterial med bailed me out of the spreading risk category yesterday afternoon." Sure enough, two new nurses filing into the lounge noticed Morton's liberation and they both said, "Congratulations, doctor. How's Jane Doe?" "Alive, she lost some hearing but she's gonna make it. The PD took her finger prints this morning. They said they'll have an answer about who she is by nightfall." "That's wonderful." said Carol. Brice looked up at the assistant head nurse. "Ms. Evans. Is Miss McCall around?" "Yes, she's back at her desk. You still need your supplies from pharmacy.." she guessed, squinting at him in a calculating look. "I do." Craig nodded. "Not anymore, Mr. Brice. I anticipated a bit and they're all set for you. I went around the supply nurse downstairs. Geez, she's got all the winning personality of a snail. I don't know how you boys deal with her at all. " Morton chortled over his coffee cup. "It's only ingrained training and a re-enforced sense of etiquette that holds us at bay, Carol. Trust me." "Well, I certainly don't trust her. Craig, your squad supplies are all in an ambu box on Dixie's desk, including that IC epinephrine you used on your last run. Now you better eat that last bite and then scoot before.." **Beep. Beep. Beep.. Squad Eight. Stand by for response.** came L.A.'s rich radio voice over Craig's handy talkie. "Thank you, Nurse Evans." Craig said. "And you, too, Dr. Morton. Doctor, we should get together soon so you can tell me more about the clinical aspects of spinal meningitis. I'd like to be prepared further for any future field encounters with it." He rose and ran from the room to grab his squad's supplies. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Craig tossed the box to Belliveau, his temporary partner in the squad's driver's seat, as their call came through. Brice got into the truck, buckled up, and strapped on his helmet. **Squad Eight. Unknown vehicular accident. At the intersection of Court Crossing and Hwy 38. At the intersection of Court Crossing and Hwy 38. Time out 11:19. Engine 51 is responding to your incident. Their reported ETA is three minutes. ** "L.A., Squad Eight, 10-4. KMG-356." Brice and Belliveau spun tires out of Rampart's ambulance bay driveway and onto the freeway. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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***************************************************************** From : Cassidy Meyers <killashandrarey@hotmail.com> Sent : Wednesday, September 29, 2004 10:44 PM Subject : Intersect Mike Stoker hit his airhorn to startle the mass of bystanders away from their response scene as he brought Engine 51 down to a hissing crawl about thirty feet away from the rising steam they could see from the accident site. The crowd parted with shouts and waves of urgency. Others, fearing incrimination, ran. Captain Stanley jolted when he recognized the shade of red glinting under the bright sunlight. He shouted immediately out his window even as Chet Kelly and Marco Lopez beat him out of the Ward. "Get an inch and a half on that smoking engine right now! No wait, it's not that bad. Let's check it out first." Squad 51 sat in the middle of the intersection, its windshield smashed and spidered with its cherry red hood V folded up from a front end collision. A motorcycle lay a short distance away from the rescue truck, with a casualty, whom Mike Stoker immediately crouched down beside to check for lifesigns. Cap got on his walkie talkie. "L.A. we have a fire department vehicle involved in a motorcycle versus rescue squad. As yet, there are no signs of fuel leaking. Respond two ambulances to our location." ##10-4, 51. Ambulance ETA is nine minutes. Time out 11:23.## Squad Eight came back with an immediate follow up. ## Engine 51, we are four minutes away. Just crossing Williams. Heading onto the Hwy 38 on-ramp.## "Engine 51, 10-4." Captain Stanley replied. His voice had cracked, but it went unheeded by anyone. |
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Hank pelted over to the squad's driver's window, pulling on his work gloves, shouting as he leaned in. "Johnny?! Roy?" No one was inside the truck. Captain Stanley whirled around, yelling at the crowd of neighborhood people on the curb. "Did anybody see the two paramedics who were driving this squad?!" No one stepped up to reply. Marco yelled again to the others, "They're firemen, dressed like us!.. Where did they go?" Seeing the nationality majority of the onlookers surrounding the fire engine and the accident site, he switched to spanish, barely containing his fear and anger. "Chet, see if you can find where either of them went. There's blood all over the cab." he said as the Irish fireman ran up to him with O2 for the victim on the ground. "Stoker.. Is that man alive?" Cap demanded. Mike sadly shook his head from where he was crouched over the man's face. "The biker's dead. Broken neck. I'll go call the cops in. Looks like he was looting, Cap. Must've been hit trying to leave on a fast getaway from the train." Kelly hit an idea. "Cap. Maybe they still have their radios if they got their jackets on. " "Worth a shot..." Cap said, waving him to it. Chet lifted his HT and started a hail.. "Engine 51 to HT 51, do you copy?" Marco gathered near his coworkers, shaking his head about his lack of success with learning anything new from the bystanders. Kelly hailed yet again. Only fresh static met his ears. Then Captain Stanley noticed something. A cluster of heads bending over together in a group on the opposite curb under the shadow of the intersection's tall trees. He started running. He found a bloodied Gage bending over a collapsed older woman, trying to talk to her, over his own severe grogginess. Hank announced his find to the world over the HT frequency and he heard footsteps running and saw that Marco was coming fast to his aid. Cap crouched beside Johnny and grabbed his shoulders. "Johnny? Hey.. It's Captain Stanley..." Gage didn't seem to understand him and fresh blood ran down the side of his face from his hair. Cap took off Johnny's helmet and took his face into his hands. "Hey.. pal. Can you hear me?" Johnny mumbled, not able to focus his eyes. "I...gotta... check her out.. She...that was her kid on the bi... I think she's.. shhhe's got......some crushing chest p--" Hank shouted. "Stoker! Grab the resuscitation gear from the squad. We've a female victim here. Possible coronary.." "..Ugh....gotta get..." Gage groaned, shaking uncontrollably. "Easy. Don't move your head around. Just stay sitting like you are. I got a hold of ya. Gage, listen to me. Where's Roy? Don't worry about the woman. Stoker and Marco are here and they're taking over her care. Eight's on the way. They'll be here in two minutes. You just relax." Shuddering, Johnny tried to pull Hank's arms down away from him, and he was looking at the woman in muzzy confusion. "Her pulse's off.. Irreg...u... Let me over there!" he said weakly angry. He was trembling. Cap sat down on the grass next to Gage, never looking away from his eyes nor did he let go of the support he was giving his wounded paramedic's head and neck. Hank pulled his captain's HT close to his lips. "Kelly, any sign of DeSoto yet? Johnny's conscious but out of it." |
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##Still looking. Found a blood trail behind a house over here. I'll let you know. The cops are here. I've told them what's up and they're helping me look around now!## Marco scrambled over to Hank and gave him a flowing oxygen mask from their supply for Johnny. "Cap, I'm needed over there. The lady speaks only Spanish and Stoker's busy hooking up the EKG monitor on her. I've got to get the defibrillator set up in case she goes bad." "This'll do for now. I'll just have to wait on a collar for him. He's cooperating with me." Hank said holding the clear plastic mask up to Gage's nose and mouth where he sat rigid against Cap's supporting hand with his eyes closed. "Go.." he ordered. Cap lifted his eyes to the annoying crowd that was blocking his view of their distant surroundings. ::Chet. Hurry. I don't like this one bit.:: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ |
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********************************************************* From : patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com> Sent : Thursday, September 30, 2004 3:28 AM Subject : [EmergencyTheaterLive] When in Rome... ::It feels like a riot brewing.:: Hank thought, eyeing the restless crowds around them. Vince Howard came running. He had his pistol out and it was aimed up into the air in visual warning. He was the only policeman moving in the open areas. Vaguely, Cap saw him run to the fire engine, and open one of her side compartments for an asbestos tarp. The fire captain saw him use this to cover both the dead hispanic teenager and the pounds of jewelry which lay strewn around his body. Hank saw another police officer take a position behind a squad car to cover Vince as he made his way across the street at a dead run, to Captain Stanley side. He had a weapon out, too. One with a spotting scope. Mike Stoker looked up from the woman he was taking a respiration on. "What's happening?" he asked the street officer when he got there, his eyes getting bigger. Vince Howard flanked them, his gun once again drawn and displaying at the subtle angry crowd around them. "Put your back to mine, and keep a close watch on the people around us. I've backup coming. They'll be here in moments. For now, Schaffer's got us covered with an assault rifle." Hank shifted position until he had done what the policeman had asked. "Vince? What's going on?" "How bad are they? Give me that, then let me relay the information to my sergeant. Then I'll tell you. For now, don't make any sudden moves. " the freckled African American street cop ordered. "For the moment, none of us are going to be allowed to leave." "Johnny's got a possible head injury. This woman's the biker's mother and there's a good chance she's having a serious heart attack. Where's Roy DeSoto? He's gone missing, Vince." Hank asked. He bit his lip while the police officer contacted his boss. |
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Howard met Cap's eyes reluctantly. "This crowd thinks Johnny and Roy hit the San Pedro gang's leader on purpose. We're in the heart of their territory. We think the rest of the gang dragged Johnny and Roy out of the squad when they saw it happen to get even. This woman tried to stop the gang from lynching them, but then she went down. Another bystander, a recovery worker, called us out here when they saw the gang attacking your paramedics." Hank glared up at the crowd around them angrily, but Vince regained Cap's attention urgently. " Don't provoke them. Here's how it is. A neighborhood elder, like this lady, holds a lot of sway over the gang. They listen to her. That's probably the only reason why you fire boys are still here in one piece. They want you to help her." Cap eyed up the pipe wielding young Hispanic men with a new light. One of them set his length of chain down when Cap met his eyes. "Is Roy all right? Have you seen him?" Hank asked Howard urgently. "He may not be the only fire fighter in jeopardy. I just sent one of my men over there to try and find DeSoto a few minutes ago." "One of my deputy's has your man Kelly taking cover behind a squad car. We're holding Squad 8 back as a bargaining chip in order to be given Roy DeSoto in exchange.." Vince said. "What?!" Hank bellowed. "You know where he is?!" Johnny moaned in surprise at the shout and started struggling anew in his half conscious state against Cap's shoulder. Hank immediately shushed Gage quiet again and told him to remain still. A part of the injured paramedic understood Stanley, and soon, he obeyed the snap of authority in his ear. "Yeah, never m- move any...trauma.." he whispered. Hank looked once again to Vince. "What can we do to help you and the other officers bail us out of here?" "Just keep your cool. We'll definitely get out of this whole nightmare situation without any more injuries, I promise you.The gang's used to our style of ..official negotiating." he said with a smileless good humor. "It'll just take a little time to play the game to their liking to fit their current mood." Howard said evenly. "We may not have the time to spare, Vince. She needs cardiac medications and a paramedic. Right now, " Marco protested. "This EKG's not normal." he said, tipping the Tetronix up so the police officer could see its restless uneven track. "Do the best you can until my superiors finish negotiating. Keep her breathing or we'll find ourselves in the middle of a shoot out with Roy DeSoto being the hostage in danger." "Is he injured badly?" Cap said. "I don't know. We spotted him on someone's front porch six houses away from here being watched by some gang members. I'm afraid he's on his back and he hasn't moved yet. Our line of sight's horrible so we can't tell if he's still breathing or not." Cap grabbed Vince's arm. "Is Roy still in his turnout?" "What?" "Vince, is he wearing a tan jacket like this one?" he said, tapping himself on the chest. "Yeah, I think a detective gave that in a description for him." "Then he's got a radio like mine. And most likely, it's still on. Can I try to talk to him?" "Hang on.." Vince said and he contacted his senior onlooker. "Go ahead. Roy's arms aren't tied from what we can see." "Stoker. Open a line to Rampart. Get a doctor up to speed. I'm going to kill two birds with one stone. I wanna get Roy's health status and if he's able, I want to use him to determine how bad SHE is." Hank said, pointing to the sweaty, grimacing dark haired lady lying on the ground. "Marco, you interpret anything said for the woman's benefit. Got that?" The fire engineer and hoseman nodded. "This is the last time I'm ever gonna be caught in the middle of an unsafe scene. Smashed vehicles are fine; easy to figure out for safety's sake. Man, I didn't expect any nearby PEOPLE to become my potential powder keg." Stanley grumbled. Vince rubbed his sweaty forehead and he glanced at 51's captain in sympathy. "It happens. How often do you fire boys find yourselves in the city?" "Not often enough, I guess. We never saw this coming." Stoker admitted, setting up the squad's biophone. On the ground, the woman groaned suddenly in fierce pain, and her skin turned a darker shade of gray around her mouth. Marco gripped her hand and he tightened the O2 mask around her face. "Esto vá a aydarle a respirar. ¿Le falta aire?" "¡Sí!" she moaned. "AhhhHH." Marco smiled at her in convincing confidence. "Respire profundo para dentro y afuera." Then he looked up and his smile fell away the moment his face was turned toward Cap. "What's the problem?" Stanley asked Lopez. "She's getting short of breath. I told her the oxygen will help her even more if she breathed in and out a little deeper." Marco replied. "We have to do something for her. Now." |
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Vince offered advice. "Make it sound like it's fire fighting business or they might not let DeSoto answer you." Howard snapped his fingers. "Better yet. Mention your new victim. It just may allow Roy some conversational freedom if they realize we have an Elder's treatment ongoing." Cap got on the HT. "Ok, here goes.... Engine 51 to Squad 51. I require an immediate response on HT. We've a woman down at our original location. An Hispanic female, aged approximately fifty. Possible heart attack." and he bit his lip as he lifted his thumb away from the talk button. They all poised waiting for a reply over the open line. The silence was only broken by occasional taunts from the onlookers and moans from the elder lady. Then... *Spap* ## Engine 51,...I read you, ...*cough* Loud and clear. I'm....10-2. Situation ..ok..## Roy's voice was thick sounding as if from a swollen lip but no one minded at all. The firemens' expressions were ones of great relief and they had to fight themselves from moving joyfully. Hank motioned for them to tone it down. Vince upped their ante by putting his own gun away and clearing his hands to the watchers near Roy's porch. Cap started relaying information to DeSoto over the radio. "Two victims. Victim One, Code I, non urgent." he emphasized, letting a hint about Johnny worm into the transmission craftily. "Victim Two. Conscious, collapsed with chest pain. Cyanosis about the mouth and fingernails. Difficulty breathing. On 15 liters of O2. Vitals are : " and he slowly took a notepad from Stoker in plain crowd sight to read the finding. "Pulse 130, weak and irregular, respirations are 22 and shallow, B/P is 158/106." Captain Stanley could almost see Roy absorb the patient information like a sponge. Heavy breathing on the line showed that Roy had some pain he was currently dealing with, but his voice's tone was lucid, unlike Johnny's disjointed comments. ##Victim Two. Find out .....what kind of pain she's feeling. This isn't necessarily a cardiac case. Could be a pulmonary embolus, too. Ask her when the pain started and whether or not it travels away from where it is now. Find out its severity. Then ask about any taken medications, get a medical history if you can, and ..and ..and, ask about any allergies. My status, I was 10-7 for about 10 minutes.## "10-7?" Vince asked. Cap made a gesture, "That means out of service. I'm taking it to mean the period of time of how long Roy thinks he was passed out after he was beaten up.." he began once more into the radio. "Vitals on Victim Two.." ##¡No otro hombre! Ella solo!## came a furious reply over Roy's radio. (No other man! Her only!) Marco hissed. "Cap. Stop! Talk only about the woman. Someone over there's figured out what we're doing with all the ten codes." |
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Hank preceded more cautiously. "Comprendo. I understand." he radio-ed back. "Squad 51. Please stand by." Roy cleverly kept the talk button down so the others could hear the police negotiating in the background at his location. Marco immediately turned to the woman. "¿Le duele más cuándo respira profundo?" (Is your pain worse with a deep breath intake?) "No, es mismo." she gasped. (No, it's the same.) "¿Ha tenido alguna vez un ataque al corazón?" Lopez asked gently. (Have you had a heart attack before?) "Sí, en la primavera." she admitted. (Yes, in the springtime.) "¿Cuándo empezó el dolór?" he asked about her pain. (When did this pain begin?) "A las once en la manaña." (At eleven this morning) "¿Qué tipo de dolor tiene?" he questioned. (What does this pain feel like?) "¡Mi pecho es apretandó! Y presión!" (My chest's squeezing. And pressure.) |
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"¿Se mueve para algún lado?" (Does it go anywhere else?) "Alrededór mí izquierda brazo." (Around my left arm) "¿Ha tenido nauseas?" (Do you have any nausea?) "¡Sí. Tiene mucho!" (Yes. A lot) "¿Toma medicinas y tiene alergias a alguna medicina?" (Do you take any medications and are you allergic to any?) "No. AhhhHH!" The woman suddenly arched off the ground. "¿Qué le pasa?" Marco asked her. (What's the matter?) "Siento que me estóy ahogando.." (I feel like I'm suffocating..) "Ok,..no tenga miedo. Nosotros hablamos a el doctor ahorita." (ok, don't be afraid. We are talking to a doctor right now.) Lopez quickly handed Cap the note pad he had transcribed. "She's dyspneic now. I think you should tell them both that fact first." Cap told Roy everything and then he handed Stoker Marco's interviewed information to read off to Dr. Morton, who was waiting on the phone line. A minute later, both paramedic and physician said the same thing over two sets of speakers. ##Try nitroglycerin for now until the other squad is allowed in. ## Stoker had been walked through on how to connect the woman's EKG leads into the biophone. Morton took responsibility so Marco and Stoker could give the woman the angina medication orally. ##That's only if her pressure's above 100 systolic..## Morton punctuated over the speaker. |
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## Repeat once every five minutes up to three tablets as long as that B/P reading stays there, fellas. ## added Roy. Lopez dug around the drug box until he found the tiny brown pill bottle marked NTG. Then he tapped one out onto his hand and crouched over the woman. "Senora. Habre los ojos. Esta medicina vá debajo de la lengua. Venga en, abra la boca. Esta siente mejór después de tomar la medicina." (Maam, open your eyes. This medicine goes under your tongue. Come on, open your mouth. You'll feel better after you've taken this medication.) The woman gagged for a moment on the nitroglycerin tablet but then her face smoothed after half a minute and her cheeks flushed a more healthy looking ruddy color. They all saw the rhythm on the heart monitor even out just a touch. Marco felt her hand, gripping his own, ease off completely before she finally let go. "¿Se siente mejor?" Marco asked once she had relaxed. (Do you feel better?) The sweaty woman nodded. "Gracías bombero." (Thank you fireman.) Then she reached up and grabbed Cap's radio. "Primos. No pegaron el gringo paramedico no mas. Vamos al hospital Rampart, el y yo. Necesitamos ir ahora. Ellos me han ayudado. Usted debe sentirse la vergüenza para sentir la necesidad para la venganza. Carlos ha pagado el precio para su falta de honradez cuando él robó del tren. Su muerte era el hace de Dios. Permita que mí apene con la honradez. " (Cousins, don't hit the white paramedic anymore. We're going to Rampart Hospital, he and I. We need to go right now. They have helped me. You should feel shame for feeling the need for revenge. Carlos has paid the price for his dishonesty when he stole from the train. His death was the will of God. Let me grieve with honesty.) All around the street, weapons were dropped to the pavement as the elder's weeping plea was echoed around the police's and Squad 51's HT frequencies. Seconds later, Squad Eight roared up with an ambulance following close behind. Hank snapped an order. "As soon as she's stabilized, bring all three in together." he ordered the paramedics from Station Eight. "This is Vince's suggestion so we're cleared away from here as fast as possible." "Understood, captain." Craig Brice replied. The elder's IV was quickly started by Brice and Belliveau and heart meds soon leveled the arrythmias shooting across the EKG screen. Johnny Gage was lowered onto a backboard once a cervical collar had been applied and then he was tucked into a handy stokes for a side bench transport. Captain Stanley personally carried Johnny's I.V. bag during his packaging and loading until it was time to hang it on the rig's wall hook. Hank leaned into Vince. "You know we didn't really need Roy to treat the woman. We could've gotten permission from Dr. Morton directly. We had the biophone right there." "I knew, Hank. I knew. " said Howard. "The ruse worked. Didn't it?" "This time. What about for the next time?" Cap wondered morbidly. Vince sighed. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." |
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------------------------------------------------------------- Roy DeSoto denied any head symptoms. He was allowed to ride to the hospital sitting up, once his many cuts and bruises had been poked and prodded and covered up and after he had his vital signs checked out. Marco, was busy until the very last minute. "Lo siento, pero no podemos llevar mas personas atras. Ella vá estar bien." (I'm sorry, but we can't have any more people in the back. She's going to be fine.) he told the elder's claimed next of kin. The double doors on the Mayfair closed, leaving Brice alone with a sick woman, a dazed paramedic and a second, very very very,..quiet one. Roy was mute the whole way in as he let Brice do all the work of keeping his goose egged partner awake and within the realm of verbally responsive consciousness. Finally, DeSoto said something just before the interns and orderlies opened the ambulance doors up for wheeling them all into the treatment room hallway. "I really...hate ...the city now. I'm gonna move Joanne and the kids a little farther out towards the high country just as soon as I can. I think I'll start making plans next week." "Thinking about leaving the department, DeSoto?" Brice asked him. "No, just the ambience of the sadder part of Los Angeles. Thank you very much." he said sarcastically. Brice took that to mean that Roy DeSoto wasn't too physically hurt to feel a real true anger over the attack he and Johnny had just suffered at the hands of unthinking people. |
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-------------------------------------------------------------- "So, this is a reversal.." said Gage from his hospital bed at the street clothes garbed DeSoto and Brice and surprisingly, Chet Kelly. "Didya bring me any candy like I brought for you last week, Craig?" "Nothing you can choke on." Roy quipped. "Have a taco. Marco cooked up those special, just for you." he said, handing his head bandage wrapped partner, a tupperware full of steaming, south of the border, delectables. Johnny made a face. "I'm just about latin american-ed out for a while. Between accidently killing one, to getting beaten up by a whole gang of em, to being saved by one, I've had just about all I can stomach on that theme for the rest of the year." "Don't tell Marco Lopez that. He might get offended." replied Craig Brice seriously. "Brice, I'm just not hungry yet. They just ended my D5W I.V. a couple of hours ago, you know." "Good." said Chet quickly. "Then you don't mind if I dig in a little, pal? Thanks. I'm still starving." he said, grabbing the yellow container out of Johnny's hands and opening it. "You fellas want some? Here, let me grab some paper towels from the bathroom." he said chewing noisily. He held up the food so Roy and Brice could partake in a second round of feasting, too, before disappearing into the depths of the rest room for a roll of towelling. "Man, Gage. You've been missing out on some radical fire duty. We may be done with the Amtrak wreck and it's....uh, associated resident gang members, but we sure as heck have been starting a record week of station burn calls. We've been roaring, non stop, for just about every kind of fire imaginable. Dumpster fires, brush fires, mine fires, stove fires, even a pool fire when some dork mistook a can of charcoal starter for a jug of dechlor solution. Geesh, what an idiot he was..." Chet rambled on. |
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Gage swore he could feel another near coma coming on, just listening to his enthusiastic coworker. ::But I'd rather feel some nauseated, twisted insides over some as yet too early food, than experience anything like that twisted train or gang, ever again.:: he concluded. ::At least, not until I've been well fed, well slept. And not until I'm completely without a single aching muscle or pulsating bone left anywhere in my entire body. Only then will I think about re-tackling the big stuff. But, ..not today. I deserve a break more than they could ever possibly know.:: Gage reached for one of Lopez's mild green salsa tacos with a good heart and he bit off one end, very carefully. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- FIN Episode Fourteen, Twisted, Season Two ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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