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The crew man delivering assisting breaths, kept tabs on the poisoned
paramedic's carotid pulse. "He's
getting bradycardic." he told Roy.
"It's 46."
"Noted. When your decon's done, dry him off
and bundle him well in
blankets. Leave out his arms for I.V.s."
DeSoto turned his back to
the fire roiling out of the cistern fissure
and new blast crater so that it wouldn't distract him
as he got back on
the biophone. Already he could hear the additional alarm tones alerting
new engine
companies, over his H.T., that Cap had called in to manage
the newly born wildfire spreading downwind
and into the wildlife refuge area.
Hank was the first one out of the truck as he and the rest
of the gang
rushed to his side. "Roy?"
"He's dyspneic! Get me the I.V. and drug boxes from
the squad. Defib's right
there. Patch him in as soon as you can." Roy told him. "Rampart, this
is
Rescue 5-1. Do you read me?" he urged, clamping down on his frustration
at the delay of their response,
so that it didn't leak out into the biophone's
receiver.
##51, this is Dr. Early. I read you
loud and clear. Go ahead with your
transmission. 39's had a cardiac arrest.##
"Code I. Near
respiratory arrest. Confirmed environmental nitroglycerin
exposure. Pulse 46, unconscious, now post-ictal
from an active
seizure, on assisted 100% O2. He is undergoing current flush water
decontamination."
##All of those symptoms sound like they're due to arterial hypovolemia from
an overdose of nitrates
through the skin. Epinephrine is contraindicated
in this case. Central volume expansion to offset
his deflated vital signs
will be critical until the half life of the nitroglycerin, still in his
liver,
has passed. This boosting should start to take effect about 2 to 3 minutes
after that shower's
done, once established. Use Normal Saline as fast as
you can push it. Use two large bore needles
into the cubital fossa area
on both arms. Those vessels most likely haven't collapsed yet. Add a
third
into a jugular if you have access. Oh, and 51, let me know the color
of his blood when
you get a vein. There's a complication,.. a
methemoglobinema that causes an impairment of oxygen
delivery in the body
following nitrate exposure if it's been extremely high.##
"Rampart would
you repeat that last order?" DeSoto said, watching Chet and
Marco set up three I.V. bags and infusion
lines.
##Is his blood brown or red when exposed to the air, 51?## asked Early.
"Stand by."
Roy glanced at Hank. "Cap, prick his finger with your knife. Then
show me the site. Quickly."
Cap didn't hesitate or question the bizarre treatment. He nicked the pad of Gage's
closest thumb,
avoiding nerves and bone. "It's dark, almost like chocolate, Roy."
DeSoto handed Hank a dressing
to bind up the wound. "Rampart, it's brown and
staying that color."
Joe Early leaned into
the microphone at the base station. "The hypoxia you
are noting will get worse, before it gets better.
Be aggressive on any
resuscitation efforts. Titrate 1 to 2 mg per kg of body weight of methylene blue
into your best wide open I.V. It should counteract any more of that blood
cell binding in under ten
minutes. Keep using pure oxygen, even after he wakes
up. His blood will still be partially unable
to transfer O2 for a few hours
after we stop the process. He may become confused, or combative on
you. Watch
for heart block. I want a new vitals set in five minutes."
Roy repeated back the
medical orders. Then he abandoned the phone and kicked
Johnny's care plan into high gear.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Half way to Rampart, in a speeding Mayfair, Johnny opened his eyes, which
began to meet Roy's,
from the cocoon of heated blankets that had been nested
around him. "I feel like sh*t, Roy." he finally
said, through his non-rebreather
oxygen mask.
"That's an improvement, believe it or not. How's
your head? Your EKG looks
great." Roy smiled tiredly, reaching for the BP cuff to take another reading
for the chart. "Ah. Don't move." DeSoto said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I had to bolus stick
your neck."
Gage grunted his dislike of needles out loud and long. "My jugular? The
worst
possible I.V. choice ever made, Roy." he said stiffly, keeping
his neck the same way. Then he answered
the question."7 of 10.
Out of.... breath."
"Working on that. It's chemical hypoxia. You're
the perfect candidate for
a transfusion once we get to Rampart."
Gage groaned his unhappiness
again, even longer than the first time.
Roy didn't change his relieved expression. "Yep. More
needles. I could
always knock you out with a paralytic and intubate you to get recovery
happening
a little faster from your perspective."
"No... way in H*ll." Gage shivered.
Roy grinned
and turned up the heat inside of the ambulance.
"You found one, and got out of it."
"Yeah,
I remember that. And... Wait a minute. Where's Boot? He
always stays with anybody he gets out. That's
the one sure thing about him.
Or, don't tell me..." he smiled weakily. "Did he just run away again
once things were over?"
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Roy actually looked away, and stopped pumping up the BP cuff.
Then he finally spoke. "He's gone,
Johnny. H-He didn't make it out."
"What?" Gage gaped in a gasp. "He was killed? I do ...think
I... remember
a fire. I... Oh, man. Can anybody guess what happened?"
"He went back for the
dead boy. Stoker seems to think a TNT bundle was
bumped when Boot tried to drag him out of the foam
while he was still
blinded by the bubbles."
"Oh, Boot. Why did you have to try and do that?"
Johnny sighed.
"We were right there and moving in. You didn't deserve to die. Not
like--." Still
body weak, he couldn't form tears. But he wanted to.
"It was in his blood. In his soul, if there
is such a thing for a dog."
DeSoto couldn't meet his partner's shocked eyes. "Earned that halo a
thousand times over."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Four days had passed since the cistern rescue call. The wildfire the
self destructing mine
had started, had recently shown that it would be
with them as a continual engaged fire department
battle, for most
of the summer.
Chet Kelly walked into the rec room past the kitchen and
found Johnny
sitting slumped on the couch, resting a small rectangular cigar box,
about the size
of a dress tie, on his chest. He seemed lost in thought.
And that made Kelly automatically curious.
"What's that, Johnny?
Cookies from your aunt?" he grinned, putting a fake hungry look onto
his
face.
"It's what's left of Boot." he replied morosely.
Chet immediately started gagging
when he figured it out. "Oh, Gage!
Why?! That's disgusting. What's the matter with you? Why don't
you just
bury the thing and be done with it, like decent folk."
"U.S.A.R. recovered it. It's
sealed. It doesn't smell. I'm.. still
trying to decide what I want to do about him. I owe him...
my life,
Chet. Can't you wrap your grossed out little brain around that
concept? Or is it a little
too deep for you to comprehend?"
Chet didn't take offense. He actually joined Gage on the couch
right next to Johnny, and then they both began to stare at the box
together. Kelly threw up a hand.
"We could always see if we
could arrange for a fire department style funeral."
"For a dog?
Give me a break. The chief would never go for that.
He'd think we were both nuts and send us to counseling
for PTSD."
"Oh. He would. Skip that idea." Chet gingerly took the box out
of Gage's troubled
fingers and reverently placed it onto his
own slumped belly. He just barely stopped himself,... from
actually
petting it. "We could always.. bury it like one of Boot's bones."
Johnny shot to
his feet, and snatched the box away from Chet
protectively. "Oh, for Pete's sake, Chet."
"Why?
Nothing wrong with the suggestion, Johnny. Boot did that all
the time with the dead squirrels and
birds he always found around
the station. If Boot were here, he'd probably like that idea." Kelly
reasoned calmly.
"Sounds perfectly logical to me." said Mike Stoker, entering and
overhearing.
Cap and Marco were on his heels.
"How about cremation? That's clean." Marco shrugged.
"He
burned enough." Johnny growled.
"All right. All right. Don't get your overalls in a kink." Cap
huffed. "You can't keep hiding that in your locker, Gage.
One of the other shifts might find it and
freak out."
"He belonged here, Cap. I can't just... take him home. I'd feel
funny about doing
that. That's kinda sick." Johnny replied.
"And hanging onto dead dog parts at work, isn't?" Hank
countered,
gesturing at the box in Johnny's hands.
"Well..."
Roy intercepted the two
of them and took custody of Boot's box.
"I've got the perfect solution. My wife came up with a plan
to start a fundraiser to dedicate a memorial to all the children
who've died in the cistern park.
It's partly to get the powers
that be to solve the problem by getting more public aware of it.
She
said Boot's tail could be interred inside of the statue and be
remembered that way, in the place where
he made his final rescue.
I'm sure the rest of the guys in the other stations would
go for this
in a big way, too. We could collect the names
of everyone Boot helped and combine those on the memorial,
to make it less sad of a topic, for visitors."
The gang waited on pins and needles for Johnny's
reply.
They literally were frozen in their shoes at the sight of his
building tears.
Finally,
Gage let out a huge, sad sigh, and spoke.
"I was his last rescue save, Roy." said Johnny, his eyes
finally drying up. "I'd be honored to become part of it."
"Well." Cap said, placing a comforting
hand on Johnny's
shoulder. "That settles that. Not...seeming to be undecorous but,..
please store
Boot's box outside somewhere until these final things
get panned out. It's gonna take a while. Up
high, perhaps,
like in the hose tower, so the rats can't get at it."
Gage acted startled.
"K-kay. Sorry, Cap, I.. forgot
about refuge regulations."
"Gage, he's not trash. I wasn't referring
to that one."
"I'll go store it." said Stoker, taking the box from Roy.
"It'll be fine wrapped
up in a tarp. I'll warn the other shifts
to be careful around it so they don't knock it down."
Johnny's eyes follow the box the whole way out the door, but
he didn't follow the engineer.
He
slumped back on the couch, finding that his hands were
restless without anything to hold. "I still
owe him, guys."
"How can you ever repay an act like that back?" Roy asked,
gently.
"I
don't know,.. I... Maybe I ... Hey, should I try finding another
dog who can fill Boot's boots?"
he said, finally smiling a
little. "Then perhaps we might stop missing him so much."
The rest
of the gang started smiling, all at once.
"I think that's a fabulous idea, Gage. We'll help you
look."
nodded a beaming Hank.
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*************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Sent:
Monday, May 28th, 2018 7:39 AM
Subject: Plunk
Joanne DeSoto was laughing over tuna salad
sandwiches and coffee
with Dixie McCall in the hospital cafeteria.
"So there he was, looking
like a child caught with a hand in
the cookie jar, after he found out that I had mowed the lawn
around
him while he took a nap in the living room chair." giggled
the petite teacher with a curly shoulder
length bob.
McCall chuckled. "Roy's certainly not one to go against women's lib.
But chivalry
in him is most certainly not dead. Being macho and
being able to handle everything all in one is all
the rage these days
with most guys I know."
"I can't understand it. He was so tired after working
that cistern
mine wildfire that started near your place, all weekend, on his normal
days off.
Of course I'm going to step up to the plate about doing everything
around the house. And I told him
so, too. Dixie, I actually made him
take his apron off." Joanne said seriously, biting her lip.
"Oh yeah? And how did he react to that?" Dixie asked, leaning in
confidentially.
"Like a wounded
puppy."
"Oh, no." Dixie smiled, conmiserating. "Well, Roy just turned thirty.
Maybe that's
a bit like how turning forty effects us women. When you burn
your candle at both ends, you start
to feel like a wet dish rag more and
more whenever you try it. Must be especially noticeable when
you're already
a hard working firefighter."
"Really? Do you think that's possible? Wow, I'll
just take your word for
it. I haven't experienced that effect. I'm..." she broke off politely.
"Still young?" the head nurse shrugged off the reference. "Count your
blessings that you don't have
to cover any gray yet like I do. So the
lawn's neat and dishes are already done. So what? You both
should still
feel like you're fully accomplished and caught up, which is normally not
true for
about 99% of the rest of us unmarrieds. Tell Roy I told you so.
Maybe he'll relax a little more without
feeling so guilty about it."
A dimming of the sun made both women look up from their meals. The
smoke
plume from the fire was spreading and beginning to track out over the ocean.
Joanne
shivered. "Did you know it's already spread over 100,000 acres
this month. Even with mutual aid fire
departments from New Mexico and
Northern California working with all of ours, nobody's making
any
headway in containing any of it yet."
"I'm not surprised. Some head honcho somewhere decided that
doing controlled burns in the foothills once every ten years was a lot
better than forking out
the bucks for doing one every spring. Have you
noticed how fast surrounding communities are popping
up all around us?
Hard to be a good forester when everybody's over protective of that multi-
million
dollar mountain view out everybody's window. Trees are popular
now. That's why I bought a condo and
moved where I did so I'd be near
a grove of rainbow eucalyptus trees located on a ridge. I wanted
to
be closer to the overwintering monarch butterflies that come there
every year."
"Oh,
yeah? How's that working out for you?" Joanne sighed, sipping
her coffee absently.
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"Smoke's getting bad at night. Kel and I can't even open our windows any
more to cool off while we're
sleeping." McCall sighed. "And it's no
picnic returning home at midnight after work most days, because
so
many out of staters are driving in taking a gander at the fiery
freakshow burning alongside
the blacked out freeway. I've added
an extra forty five minutes to my commute time, one way."
"Ooo. You can always both come stay with Roy and I for a while. We've
plenty of space. The kids are
away all of the time with their sports
and summer jobs these days. I hardly see them except at mealtimes."
"I thank you for the offer but I don't quite feel like a refugee yet.
Kel and I are both smokers
so a little more blowing in off
the mountains can't make that much more of a difference quite yet.
D*mned
Hollywood. Every day, I blame them for having made cigarettes look so
glamorous in all
of the movies."
"Ever going to try to quit, Dixie?"
"Someday. Maybe. Probably when work
finally makes gum chewing legal, so
I can start chomping my way into a pair of dentures instead."
Joanne giggled and pushed her empty plate aside.
"So, now where were we? My brain goes out
the window whenever I'm hungry
and haven't been eating fast enough to compensate." Dixie said,
folding
her sandwich in half and hunting around for a narrow place
to take her first bite of it.
"Eat.
I'll talk." Mrs. DeSoto huffed good naturedly. "The fundraiser's set
for minigolf games at Murphy's
Arcade and Golf Course at the new pier. I struck
up a deal with the business owner. He's brand new
and hasn't had his grand
opening yet. The place is ours for three whole days until the 8th when he
goes
live."
"Smart man. He'll get free publicity with the fire department and press
doing
that. And afterwards, as the official sponsor of the Cistern Park Memorial
Project." McCall nodded
in appreciation.
"All we have to do in return now is... hire a band for our event." said
Joanne,
flinching at the daunting task placed before them.
"Oh. Do we have anybody lined up who's a musician
and can play?"
"Roy says he knows two people he can think of already who fit the bill."
Joanne
said excitedly. "Just wait until you find out who they are."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Johnny Gage and Chet Kelly burst into the rec room at Station 51 carrying
their mutual guitars,
sparkling with energy.
Johnny and Chet took possession of the whole couch, moving their instruments,
and Henry the basset, out of the way.
"Sorry, Henry." said the curly haired Irish firefighter.
"But you've got
your dog house to live in, that you never use." Chet said, pointing to
the wooden
one gathering dust underneath the freshly sketched up chalkboard.
The rest of the gang looked
up appreciatively from their taco dinners at
the kitchen table.
Marco grinned, reaching for
the extra extra hot sauce. "So what's the latest?
Battle of the banjos?" he chuckled, meeting the
eyes of the others in amusement.
"This is going to be family fare." Gage told him, strumming a
few bars of a bright,
happy diddle. "It's kids we're going to be honoring at the fundraiser, with
a lot
of grieving parents to soothe. I can't see nabbing any donations from the public
if we
don't cheer them up, while were at it."
"What can be played that won't sound hokey or stuffy,
while mini golfing?" Mike Stoker
asked.
"This." crowed Kelly, and with a nod, both he and
Johnny broke out into a Jimmy Buffet
tune in a quick silver, lilting duet of harmony and hand slap
percussion.
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Gage grinned happily as he and Chet strummed out the song briskly. "In a pair of matching
Hawaiian
shirts, what can go wrong playing our set with this kind of stuff?" he said.
Chet looked up from
his note picking fingers. "It's snappy, happy and jiving. I mean,
who doesn't like Jimmy Buffet?"
Cap raised his lone hand.
Johnny sniffed. "Well, you're not going to be there, you have to
work Saturday at Headquarters,
because of the fire."
"Ah, the joys of upper level rank. Not.
I hate brainstorming strategies in a think tank with
a passion. Everybody always thinks their ideas
are the best one for tackling any issues. I
can't get even a single word in, edgewise." Stanley sighed,
not looking up from his newspaper.
"That whole meeting's going to be a complete waste of my valuable
weekend off time."
"You could always bust back down to regular firefighter, Cap. Then those weekends
full of
crisis alerts become mandatory work shifts until further notice." DeSoto said while sipping
coffee. His voice cracked at the end.
Hank looked up seriously at his paramedic in an evaluating
way. "Just how tired are you
getting, Roy? Don't lie to your captain, or I'll kick your butt and then
some."
Johnny stopped playing his guitar and went straightfaced, his fun time over. "He's
not
exhausted quite yet, but he'll get there in the next day or two." Gage betrayed.
"He hasn't gotten
any nights off since the explosion. Me? I'm fine. I had two days
in the hospital to rest up."
"Roy?" Cap said, lowering his eyes and frowning.
DeSoto looked up from a taco that just dumped
out of his muscle weak hands. He rolled
his eyes. "Okay, yeah, I guess I'm a little bushed."
"A
lot bushed." Johnny corrected, getting up and handing DeSoto a napkin from a
dispenser that was out
of his partner's reach. "He's already wearing his second
uniform shirt of the day."
Lopez raised
his eyebrows. "What happened to his first one?"
"I got shaving cream smeared all over it from
the wind. I forgot that I hadn't actually
.... shaved off any face hair yet, after dashing out on
that last squad call we had."
Roy confessed. "Johnny had to toss a towel at me."
"Oh, yeah?"
Hank mumbled. "Well I'm going to do the same thing, Roy. Right now." he said,
getting up to go use
the payphone to call L.A. "I'm calling in Brice. When he gets here,
go home. Don't come back until
0600 Sunday. Is that clear? Next time you crash into a
subjective wall, I want you to tell me right
away. This wildfire isn't one you can
auto-pilot through in less than shipshod shape. Firefighters
get themselves killed
that way. And it's usually long timers exactly like the two of us, who manage
to do
it, by getting cocky and misjudging slowly aging muscles."
Roy didn't say anything and
finally started scooping up his messy taco, with a fork.
"32 is not old." he grumbled.
"It's
half again more than 21. Don't be stupid." Johnny chided. "Your peak is over. And at
26, I'm beginning
the short slide down from mine. It's nothing to be ashamed about.
Forty hours a week is an honest
firefighter's schedule. Just like normal human beings
last time I checked."
Roy didn't rise
to meet Johnny's gentle ribbing.
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Cap became further convinced that he had an overly tired man.
"Battalion knows we're short handed
this summer. Brush details on the Mine Fire
are really putting a crimp on all of our urban coverages."
Cap shared. "I'm
sorry they lost track of how high your OT hours were actually sitting. My instant
override, will fix that, uh, that's if your family budget's not in any hot water."
"We're fine,
Cap. I just knee jerked because my schedule filled up just like everybody
else's, because of the mandatory
all call work clause applied last week." DeSoto
reassured, propping his chin into an elbow propped
hand.
"You're one year away from a veteran firefighter status on rotation. Then you
won't have
to respond to one, Roy." Hank offered.
"In five months, six days, and thirteen hours, Cap. I do
realize I'm slowing down
guys. I'm not that blind yet not to see it."
"Neither are we." said
Mike Stoker. "We've got your back, Roy. One person can't
be a Superman all of the time."
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****************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Sent:
Sunday, October 18, 2018 4:45 PM
Subject: Dominoes
Dr. Kel Brackett was taking a breather
from the world, hiding in his office, in the dark.
He sighed heavily as he rubbed his face and
then leaned against his palms in
a short rest. The pile of patient charts on his desk was shoulder
high in front of him.
"Fine time to go on vacation, Dr. Morton. It's almost the fourth of July.
Why didn't I join you?" he chuckled, grimacing at the cold coffee he
first swirled then sipped from
his earliest morning mug.
Shoving the folder stack away, he slid the phone closer and then
dialed
home for the first time in half a day. "Hey, Dix." he greeted
with a false beaming smile on his face
solely for the benefit of the
empty room when she picked up.
##Is the whole world tired today?
You know you're not fooling me, Kel.
Your voice is never bright.## McCall pegged.
"It's the
fire." he confessed. "I've got a mountain of charts that should have
gone to a team of pulmonary docs
who are supposed to handle smog and smoke
inhalation related cases. But no,.. we got them, because
the air's really
thick today and flaring up emergency COPD and asthma cases." he groused.
"So we
got them. We're the closest facility."
##It's got to be crazy busy. You're snarly. I'm so sorry.##
Dixie conmiserated.
## Need me to--##
"No, you're not coming in. Joe and I'll plow through
the rest of the shift. If
we have to, we'll start transferring the overflow to other hospitals not
downwind
of the plume. "
##You can always chain lock the doors or break out a bicarb needle.
That'll
clear the waiting room out in a hurry.## Dixie sighed, only half joking.
"Oh, haha.
Even the gangs are absent today. Did you enjoy lunch?"
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##Yeah, it's been a long time since I've hung out with any of the firefighter wives.
Joanne DeSoto
was helping me plan out my fundraiser for the Cistern Memorial.##
Kel Brackett frowned and let
out a sympathetic breath. "What caused the Mine
Fire anyway? I haven't had time to read the papers."
##Old dynamite buried in the dirt. 51 was there rescuing the latest cistern victim
when they blew.
It killed Boot, their dog, who was trying to rescue a boy he
didn't know was dead. I was told a foam
field interfered with his sense of smell.##
"Oh, that's ...that's too bad. Even I've heard about
Boot from other firefighters who
had a chance to hang out and work with him."
##He was sweet.
I used to stop by the station just to say hello, face to face. If any
dog deserved a permanent home,
it was him. You know... ## she said thoughtfully,
##...that home, I thought, could have been ours,
Kel. I was working on officially
adopting him the week he died. We were becoming close friends, without
even
speaking.##
Dr. Brackett smiled. "I didn't know that. Would he have even stayed?"
##Probably not. But at least he would have known that another door was
always open.##
"He
sure had a lot of those, Dixie."
##Wait, no what? Really?##
"Yeah. I've heard that from
at least a dozen different paramedics. They used to banter
Boot stories in the coffee lounge all
the time. I just.. never listened in past the dog's name.
I was always coming and going too fast."
##It's not right, Kel.##
"What isn't?"
##That a dog who saved everybody and never asked
for anything in return, got killed.
It was because of the ignorance of careless people, that he was.
It was so g*d d*mned
preventable.##
"Dixie...Don't go beating yourself up. Hindsight is always
twenty twenty when looking into
the past. It's a trap." Dr. Brackett warned.
McCall was silent
for a long time. ##I know. I've.. got too much empathy.##
"That's why you're a d*mned good nurse
and my girlfriend."
Brackett was gracious. He didn't remark on the sudden tearful sniffle that he
heard
over the line.
##I love you, Kel.##
"I love you, too, Dixie. You're my angel of
light. See you at midnight for dinner?" he
chuckled.
##It's chicken soup and quiche tonight.
I'm feeling lazy.##
"Sounds divine. I'm sure it'll taste heavenly."
##I'll polish my halo.##
Reluctantly, the two of them disconnected with a click.
Break time was instantly over and
the weight of his responsibilies for the day began
to make Brackett's whole body ache again in one
big throb. "Time to start delegating."
he whispered, trading the desk phone for a white wall one
which called the hospital
administrative offices wing. "Fifty new beds is far too much to handle."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sun had set and Roy had gone home on Cap's order, when the tones at
Station 51 sounded.
"That's us, Gage." Brice said, dropping his newspaper onto the kitchen table.
"How can you tell?"
Johnny asked, rushing after him, peeling off an apron he
had been using to help Chet make some brownies.
Already, the perfume
of rich chocolate baking filled the air, hiding the fire smoke tang coming in
from
the outside through miniscule cracks in the surrounding kitchen brickwork.
"Those sound
clear without any static. Hear that? Call's close." Craig said,
as they jogged to the apparatus bay.
Gage nodded and drew out his fire fighter's turncoat and helmet from
a side squad door, to put
on. "What do you want to do?"
##Squad 51. Adult male down, trouble breathing. At Bethseda Nursing
Home.
1515 Catrina Lane. 1515 Catrina Lane. Cross street, Avalon. Time out. 2025.##
"I'll drive."
offered Brice. "You've been on duty all day."
"Thanks, Cap." Johnny said as Hank wrote down the
address and handed them
the slip of paper.
"We'll try not to eat them all." Hank smirked.
"Better not." Johnny groused at him. "Leave at least half a tray!"
"That doesn't make any sense.
They're only two of you." Hank huffed in a
tease and disappeared.
Brice's acceleration onto
the street drowned out Johnny's protest comeback.
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Two blocks away from their destination, Gage had finished counting slips
and adding them to their
vehicle log notebook. "This is number 19."
"Nineteenth call today? That's light." Brice remarked.
"No, nineteenth difficulty breathing call. We've had 32 runs in twelve hours so
far."
"Ouch.
How's our O2 doing?"
"Topped off. We're trading out bottles with all of the police departments
because they've got more free time on their hands to go get them refilled."
"Smart."
"That
was Roy's idea. He's seen more firestorm seasons than I have."
Craig grunted. "Nine more than
me."
Johnny frowned at their call address, squinting at the writing. "Bethseda.
Isn't this
the state home for folks with no family?"
"Yeah. All widows or widowers with no ties and poor
financial situations."
Brice shared. "But it's nicely run on tax payer money."
"That helps."
Gage grinned. "Our patient will be hydrated and well fed.
And if we're lucky, he'll be clean." Johnny
nodded.
"Bathing's twice a day, unless there's doctor's orders for a once a day
bed bath around
dressings or other invasive daily care equipment."
Craig recited.
"You remembered that about
this nursing home?"
"Of course. There are only ten Homes to memorize in your station's service
area. You've easy landmarks to recall." Brice shrugged.
"The pier, the Arco refinery complex,
Rampart, three schools, five
churches, a half block of warehouses, six state canyonlands, eight city
parks and.. how many nursing homes?" Johnny ticked off on his fingers.
"Ten."
"I'll...
try to add those." Gage mumbled apologetically.
"No need. That's why we write things down on paper."
Johnny chuckled. "I think only Mike Stoker has a map brain like you
do. He's constantly on the
big one in the garage."
"We quiz each other." Brice nodded.
"Oh."
"We're here."
Craig said, pulling up Squad 51 neatly at the curbside of
a tidy white washed single story facility
surrounded by pleasant gardens
and a water fountain. The fountain was bone dry in accordance to
emergency city water rationing while the wild fire was still burning.
"Let's bring everything."
Gage said as he pulled out the Datascope,
the rolling resuscitator, and drug box.
Brice carried
the biophone, the I.V. box and a spare sheet in case
their patient wasn't in a room with a bed and
needed lifting to a more
accessible open area for treatment.
"Hello!!" Johnny shouted as they
hurried through the front nurses
reception area which had been abandoned because of the emergency
call. Gage could see a green flashing light on a panel marked "Living
Room". "Common lounge."
he said, tossing his head at the call light.
Brice made note of that mentally and headed off that
way, still announcing
their presence. "Los Angeles County Fire Department. Anybody here?!"
They
burst into a cozy, sunny lobby area that had a blaring T.V. showing
the Mine Fire helicopter footage.
The two paramedics saw a huddle
of folks around a frail, old, blue lipped man wrapped up and almost
lost in a big ivory knit sweater, half slumped against a foot stool. It was
their patient who
replied out loud. "Just people... *gasp*... Getting old."
he rasped.
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"Now Mr. Petersen. I told you to stop talking and to save your breath."
said a young, casually dressed
nurse wearing a stethoscope and a name tag.
It was she who was struggling to hold the man upright
so he could breathe
a little better. "Hiya fellas. Thanks for coming so fast."
Craig Brice
helped her reposition Petersen right where he was on the floor
into a sitting position and opened
his shirt.
Johnny drew out a non-rebreather mask and connected it to a top level flow.
"Does
he have a respiratory drive?"
"Yes. Low carbon dioxide won't put him into arrest. This is cancer.
He's only got
one lung. Another resident forgot about the air quality alert and opened up the
patio
wide. We shut the doors as soon as we smelled it, but the brush fire smoke
filled the room before
our ventilation fans could suck it out again."
Brice began listening to the old man's wheezing
chest with a drum. "Are any other
residents effected?"
"Oh.. I didn't think of that.. Uh..."
said the young woman.
An older care attendant dressed in a t-shirt and name tag answered. "No.
I checked.
It's just Mr. Petersen. He's still about a month away from entering...." he broke off,
self conscious. "Well..."
"..hospice.." panted the old man under Johnny's hands. "You can
say it, son. I know
I'm dying. It's... not a secret but a blessing and... a date I'm looking forward
to. I'm ...
tired of being sick."
"Okay, okay.. We heard that. Now just take it easy so you
don't feel like you're suffocating
so much." Gage told him gently."Just keep breathing this in, nice
and slow." he said,
pressing the oxygen mask over Petersen's nose and mouth. He used his other hand
to
push away Petersen's as the old man vaguely panicked and tried to pull it off again.
"Just
a few more seconds. Give the oxygen a chance to start working."
"Ah..." he groaned, a sour sweat
coating his skin. Then his lips began to turn rosy
pink from dusky purple as he obeyed Johnny's instructions.
Brice noted the fresh surgical scar left on the man's chest where surgeons had
removed the tumorous
lung earlier in the year. "Are you in any pain?"
Petersen's shook his head faintly, gripping Johnny's
hands over his face tightly with
his own as he lay still and concentrated on just breathing. "Not
any more... There's
nerve...damage."
"Give me his history." Brice ordered the nurse. "Any
DNR orders?"
"Not yet. Mr. Petersen's quite the fighter." said the young nurse with an affectionate
smile
for her client as she tenderly wiped away perspiration from his face and eyes with a
soft
cloth. "He wants to make it to spring.."
"...so I can die in the garden.." puffed the old man.
"Pretty enough place, by the fountain
out there.." he chuckled wetly. "It's my last wish. To be with
the butterflies when I..." he
broke off when suddenly, he went unconscious.
"Mr. Petersen?..."
Gage called out, tipping back his head to keep an open airway for
the oxygen mask. "Can you hear
me? Mr. Peter--" he shifted a hand to perform a
sternal rub to see how far down he had gone. "Brice.
No reaction."
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Craig nodded, his eyes sharing that a heartbeat was still present, even and strong
at a pulse he
was feeling at a carotid. "I'll call Rampart. Let's keep him upright
against the foot rest. He doesn't
need to be intubated."
"I'll hook up an EKG so we can see what else is going on." Johnny added.
"They'll want a twelve lead over Lead II."
"Yep. It'll be Dr. Brackett. He's the in-charge
tonight."
One of the nurses set an open folder down next to Brice and Johnny so they could
read
Mr. Petersen's patient record. It included vitals sets every six hours since
dawn that day. It listed
off current medications and allergies and when the cancer
metasticized.
Craig Brice rattled
off the data he had obtained during his examination to his partner.
"Pulse is 110, regular. Left
lung is crackly, but not wet at all. No peripheral edema in
the limbs. BP is 86 by palpation. There's
no skin tenting. Respirations are.."
"22 and shallow with improving light central core cyanosis."
Johnny completed as
he snatched up and read Mr. Petersen's medical information. "His last oral intake
was at two, a grilled hotdog and an ice tea. Last med was just two Tylenol for
a mild headache."
he grinned. "Mr. Petersen, wow, your lunch sounded like it was
real tasty. A lot better than mine.
I had just boring tacos."
Mr. Petersen finger twitched and the corners of his mouth turned up
faintly.
"He's coming out of it." Gage grinned, "He probably just got a little tired after
taking
in that few minutes of smoke."
"He was badly frightened when things turned stuffy." said the older
nurse. "His
stamina's not the best."
"Does he faint often?" Craig asked, setting up the biophone
for his hail.
"Not at all. Now's the first time since he arrived to stay with us."
"Okay."
Then Brice turned to the biophone. "Rampart this is Squad 51. How
do you read?"
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Click the squad to
Go to Page Three
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