A Day In The Life

*************************************************** From: patti keiper (pattik1@hotmail.com) Sent: Fri 6/29/12 3:20 AM Subject: Oscillations.. Dr. Morton was finishing up his triage charts. Of all the staff piled in shoulder to shoulder at the same cramped E.R. desk to get all of their paperwork done, Mike was the most bright eyed and bushy tailed. He was so energized, he actually began to whistle a passionate slow blues tune. "Oh, that's vile." Nurse Carol groaned next to him as she tried to focus on organizing her own pharmaceutical inventory forms. Morton instantly looked up from his rapid check-listing. "What is? Me?" he asked, self consciously sniffing an underarm beneath his spotless scrubs. "Nurse Evans, I showered twenty minutes ago." The fifty something, brunette assistant head nurse angled her fatigue aching head carefully and just sighed. "It's not a smell thing. It's your effervescent cheeriness, Dr. Groove." she grumbled as his song resumed through his pursed lips like a broken garden hose. Dr. Morton took that as a compliment and began grinning from ear to ear. He paused all the music, to sip from his entirely coffeeless water cup. "Thank you. I can't help but feel good today. Triage went very well last night, all things considering." he said, referring to the riot victims they had processed en masse. "Only thing worse is all of the birdsong going on full blast outside the window." Evans winced as his airy rendition of It's A Wonderful World started up again. Mike broke off, smiling widely. "That's because you didn't get any sleep on your breaks like I told you to." Morton grinned. "It's not like we didn't have every available medically trained person in Los Angeles County here for the crisis. Quite the contrary. Even people from the morgue chipped in on all the life saving. You worked straight through solely because you wanted to out of the goodness of your heart." he mocked with amusement, bowing his neatly afro crowned head genteelly, flashing his white teeth.

Sam hastened to catch up, quickly tidying up the mess he and Quincy left behind into a proper biohazard garbage and disposal hamper. "Where are we going?" "To catch up with my girlfriend, Terri Stonelake. She of everyone we've met here at the hospital is the one most likely to sympathize enough with us to cough up some contact information on our firehouse gang so we can continue to help them out." said Quincy brusquely as he walked swiftly for the emergency department. "I want to go on a few personal house calls." "You hope." "She'll do it. She loves me." Quincy said, quirking a lip matter of factly. "Enough to break employee information sharing policy restrictions?" "Those firefighters aren't Terri's coworkers, Sam. They're casual acquaintances. And besides, I can't see them being subject to patient confidentiality nor any official legal privacy laws, technically. None of them have been scheduled to see an official psychiatrist." "Yet." "Sam, every one of them is probably easily found in the White Pages. All we're going to do is get some last names to go along with the first names I already know." he said enthusiastically. "Then our fingers can do some walking in the phone book on their own, far away from even the tiniest bit of official red tape." Sam grumbled, keeping up behind him. "And our noses will still be sticking in business where they don't belong." Quincy became a little crestfallen and his voice showed it even as he hastened to get where he was going. "Oh, ye of little faith. I want to prevent a death of the spirit in all of them like I can't officially prevent a death of someone's physical body in my job. It'll be fine, Sam. You'll see. Firemen may be the toughest fighters in a fire, but total pussycats when it comes to handling the public. This I know. And you can't get anymore public than the two of us can when we're off duty." "I'm not going to argue with you." "Why not? I love our sniping. Keep it up, Sam." Quince grinned back at him. "You're good friction and I like using you to keep me sane." "Insane, more like." Fujiyama said out of his ear shot as they finally reached the nurse's lounge. Taking a deep breath for courage, Sam finally caught the door and followed Quincy inside.

*************************************************** From: patti keiper (pattik1@hotmail.com) Subject: Holing Up.. Sent: Fri 6/29/12 11:48 PM It was eight a.m. and the day after the hostage crisis. Lightning was just beginning in earnest from an incoming line of thunderstorms when the rain came down in sheets. Dixie McCall pulled her car up into a slot nearest the main entrance of Carter Street Animal Shelter. She got out, clutching a carrier full of steaming coffee cups from the Dunkin Donuts down the street in one hand and her purse in the other. She hastened for the animal clinic's closest door to keep the rain from entirely wrecking her hairdo. A sharp breeze still carried the smell of fire smoke left over from riot damage but that was the only sign that anything was still out of the ordinary. She pushed through the vet office's narrow glass entryway and a merry bell spring toggled musically as she passed through into the much larger white and amber waiting room. Patty, the receptionist at the front desk, looked up from her filing. "Can I help you?" she asked brightly over the sound of the pounding rain on their sun roof. Dixie pulled off her head scarf. "You sure can, Patty. Remember me? I was the one who smuggled a pygmy goat into Rampart Hospital for some surgery about three years ago." Dixie said, setting her beverages on the counter and peeling out of her raincoat. Patty's face fell from professionalism into one of deep affection and admiration. "I thought your voice sounded familiar. Yes, of course I remember you, Miss McCall. Every time we see a goat come in we think of you and how you saved that little girl's pet by being so stubborn in the face of your hospital's standing animal policy." "I hope that's a good thing." smiled Dixie. "Oh, it is. Doc Coolidge can't stop talking about the day he talked a human doctor through goat open heart surgery.." she chuckled. Then she noticed that Dixie was alone. "What can I do for you? Do you have a sick pet at home?" she asked, noticing the dark circles under the off duty nurse's eyes. "We can do house calls." Dixie shook her head. "I was told by the police station that this is where Fire Station 51's dog, a...scruffy brown mutt about knee high named Boot, was transported after he got shot yesterday.." Dixie shared. "This is the place. Boot's doing just fine. The bullet just creased him. But I don't understand why you're here. I thought someone from the fire station was going to pick him up today." Patty told her in confusion. McCall angled her head. "They can't right now. There's nowhere for him to go home to just yet. The police are through with their investigation, but repair and clean up crews are working day and night to get Station 51 back up and running.  The whole place is still a real mess." "I don't understand what happened there." Patty said. "No one told me the circumstances behind how Boot got himself hurt, Dixie. I mean,.. I know about the jail break riots and all. But about anything else, I'm totally clueless." "Patty, Station 51's crew had their lives threatened at gunpoint by a pair of murderers. All day. These men shot Boot, hurt a firefighter while breaking in, and then used a newborn baby as leverage to get the gang to do whatever they wanted them to do." "Oh, that's awful, Dixie. I mean, I saw the newscasters, but they didn't really know that many details." "It was bad. So I told my fellas to stay home to heal as long as it takes. I said I'd watch Boot until they felt ready to take him back.  I'm also paying his entire vet bill. Shhhh." Dixie shared, asking Patty to keep a secret. "I know how slow the fire department is for compensating community resources." "That's really sweet of you to foster Boot until they recover."

"It's the least I can do. They brought me in patients, didn't they? So I can babysit a stray dog for a while. It's a fair trade to me. I'm just being a good neighbor. Just don't tell my landlady." McCall grinned. "So...how much do I owe you?" Patty pulled out a tally sheet and showed her. "Let's see... One code three ambulance ride, one basic wound care kit with sutures, a renewed rabies shot.. and ten days worth of oral antibiotics.  That'll be seventy eight dollars, thirty cents." "Ouch, there goes the paycheck." Dixie teased, digging out her checkbook. "Oh, I'm so sorry..."  Patty looked dismayed as only a very young receptionist could. "I'm kidding. I know Doc Coolidge's rates are the lowest in town." McCall bailed her out. "I actually do okay as head E.R. nurse. I can afford this easily." she smiled. "I saved a bit for a rainy day." A loud crackle of thunder made both women duck involuntarily and the rain began to fall in a torrential flood even heavier than before. "Hmmm,... it's a very loud, very wet one." Patty laughed. "Now you know why I brought us all some coffee. I knew I'd be stuck here a while until this front passes by. Doc likes his black, if I recall." McCall said, sliding the fast food beverage tray forward. "Help yourself." "Thank you, Dixie. He'll be out in a moment to speak with you about Boot's injury and how to care for it. Though I think, with you being a nurse and all, that it would be a bit of an overkill." Patty chuckled. "Oh, let him rant. Doctors do that. I'll just keep nodding and pretend I'm soaking it all in." A new voice cut through the bright gray of the morning. It was the heavy jowled local vet, Doc Coolidge. "Soaking in what? The rain? You don't have to, Miss. We've got a state of the art grooming room in back if you need to dry off. A horse dryer ought to do it." Dixie barely hid a highly amused smile. She managed to pull herself together before addressing her benefactor. "I'm.... very comfortable, doctor. I managed to get in before I got wet. I brought you some caffeine." Dixie dangled. "Did Brackett put you up to it to keep extending the olive branch between us?" Coolidge smirked merrily as he reached for his and offered Dixie hers. "Probably." Dixie answered sagely, taking the cup. "I encourage him, too, in case the fire department ever has to bring in another four legged patient having a heart attack to the hospital." "That will no longer be necessary. That goat incident is why I bought Les and Dave that ambulance of theirs you saw parked out front. Now we vet people, can go to our patients. Speaking of which. I have one who's no longer one of mine." And with that, the stocky vet opened a side door and Boot, wrapped in bandage, came rushing in to greet Dixie with whines and rolls and tail wags of happiness.

"Oh, Boot!" Dixie crowed, crouching down to her knees so she could give him a smooch and a hug right on top of his frizzy muzzle. "I'm so glad you're all right, you big baby. The guys are all okay, sweets. Can you smell them on me?" she asked as her face was liberally smothered in dog kisses. Boot dutifully checked her out and soon settled contentedly down at Dixie's feet as she tumbled into a place on the orange vinyl waiting room couch nearby. McCall turned into a total kid for long seconds as dog and nurse rebonded. Then McCall looked up, speaking professionally. "Is he medicated?" Coolidge harrumphed around his unlit tobacco pipe. "Nah, he needed just a local for five stitches to seal off one small artery. His faint of relief was enough to keep him calm on the way in." Coolidge beamed as he, too, began to scratch Boot affectionately. Then he looked up. "I've got the radar on, looks like the weather's going to get a little worse before it dies down come evening time. Dixie, I'd be grateful if you decided to stay and have lunch with us in a few hours. If you do, Patty would worry less about your safety going back down that canyon road." Doc suggested. "Mud slides are common when it rains this hard." Behind his back, Patty grinned in amusement and pointed empathetically at the real worry wart in the room wearing the white lab coat and spectacles. Dixie giggled. "You twisted my arm. I guess I'll just have to consider myself well invited then, Doctor." she told him. "Thanks for your hospitality. I'll have to give Kel a ring and tell him he's on his own for dinner this afternoon though." "Heh. Feel free to use our phone. We've got TV in back and a whole slew of dog toys if you two want to play some while you relax some and wait for the weather to clear." Coolidge shared. Woof! said Boot. And he shot to his feet, dragging Dixie eagerly into the back treatment area by her neck scarf. Doc boomed suddenly, even louder than all the ensuing thunder. "Boot! Go easy, boy! You don't want to rip out those stitches now or I'll have to put them in all over again and cause this nice young lady to suffer another vet bill. You wouldn't want that to happen, would ya?" Coolidge challenged as he followed them into the hallway. Boot instantly let go of his human toy's clothing and politely began to lead the way like the really good fire department search dog he was. Patty shut the reception door neatly behind them. "Have fun, you three!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Well, so much for the big BBQ later on. Even the yucca out there is drowning." sighed Stoker as he, Marco and his mother Inéz Lopez peered sadly out Mike's front window at the sodden tempest raging outside. "Es bien, Miguel." said Mrs. Lopez. "Ningún sol, ningún dolor en los ojos." Mike chuckled. "Yeah. Don't worry. I left my sunglasses on the dresser this morning." "His name is Mike, mom. Not Miguel. El es Americano." Marco yelled over a thunder clap as he and his station mate tied on aprons to start making some fresh tortillas from scratch. ¡Por favor!" he begged. "Sorry, Mike, she's a little off today because she's hungry. She hasn't eaten in two days because she was too scared to during all the rioting." Inéz, the subject of their conversation, was mortified at her naming mistake. "Oh, lo ciento. Apprendo malo, soy senora viejo." Inéz blushed from head to toe for her host while the engineer set the breakfast table. The three of them had been up since the crack of dawn, creating a culinary delight. Mike's whole rustic stone, golf course facing house, smelled of spicy huevos rancheros. "Mama, you are not old!" Marco scolded. "And you do not learn new things poorly. You've nothing to apologize for. You're still sharper than a tack." Mike raised his eyebrows. "Will she try a little orange juice?" "Yeah, I think so. Just put it in a clear glass so she can see what it is before she puts it into that mouth of hers." Marco grumbled, embarrassed. "Diabetes is nothing to shake a stick at, pal." Stoker told him. "Are you sure your mother is only borderline? We could call in for a squad." "Nope. One's not needed. Borderline senile from lack of food is all." Lopez quipped in amusement. "Her eyes are still tracking." "¡Marco! Oí sus palabras!" Inéz shot back, her polite meek smile turning into a very powerful scowl. "Uh, oh. Now I'm in trouble. She heard and understood that english." Marco said, rolling his eyes. For the next three minutes, the only Lopez son in the room, a grown firefighter, bore his well deserved dressing down like a tiny, very cowed, young boy. He took it, dutifully cringing at every passionate outburst of her disciplinary ire. Mike soon came to the rescue with a tall sweaty glass of juice. "Hey, Inéz, want some of this?" The glass was snatched out of Stoker's hands so fast, his fingers smarted. Inéz gulped down the offering in long, deep swallows swiftly. When she was done, she let loose a loud belch of gratitude. "Gracias, Mike. I was very thirsty. But, I cannot yell at my hideously disrespectful son all day. It's bad for my heart." "Ah, good. Your blood sugar's normal again." Mike sighed in relief. Marco uncurled from where he stood. "Feeling better, mama?" "Oh, yes. Let's get cooking, querido." Inéz purred sweetly, instantly turning to the stove and counter top once more. Soon, chopped peppers and chiles were flying into her highly polished copper egg pan at breakneck speed. Mike's grin grew hopeful. "Wow, she's fast. When do we eat?" "In about two minutes." Marco said in huge dismay. "There's no way we'll fry up our tortilla dough in time. We're just going to have to let her do it all by herself." Marco said, in active disappointment. "Well, you did warn me that your mother was quite the lean, mean, cooking machine." Stoker shrugged. Inéz laughed openly at Mike's compliment. "That I am. Now sit, and I will feed you well."

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