A Love Story

Open prescription bottles in my sink all barren of the pills once in them, empty beer cans lay waste on my tiled floor. I lay in the bath filled with cold water to numb the pain, feeling strung out and fading fast. My breaths slowing and more shallow with every passing minute. My eye lids getting heavier, the light diminishing, I'm unable to keep my eyes open. My heart slowing but my thoughts as strong as ever.

In the darkness of my own mind all I can think of is him, the one I loved who never loved me back. The pain and hurt that I went through day after day, night after night the tears I have cried. He was the one who was supposed to protect me, care for me, and love me. Not yell at me, abuse me or strike me. This will get his attention, he'll have to love me after this, he'll realize what I mean to him. As soon as he calls back he'll realize that he made a mistake and it'll fix us. He should call back soon to say sorry for our fight and he'll know what he's done to me.

The seconds slip by, the time is fleeing, the cold icy grasp of death creeps its way up my legs pulling me towards the end. Oh god why hasn't he called yet, doesn't he know what he's made me do, doesn't he realize I'm trying to hurt myself to make him see how he hurt me. Why doesn't he love me?

She begins to cry, the terror setting in that she's ending her own life hoping it would make him love her. The tears escape her eyes and she wishes she could take it back, she's sorry, she didn't mean for it to be this way.

Her cell phone slipping from her hand she goes unconscious, slipping under the water she takes her last breath. This is death, no bright light, nothing but emptiness and loneliness. Never realizing she is surrounded, surrounded by a group of men and woman fighting for her life. Complete strangers who entered her bathroom unannounced and pulled her out from under the water tomb. Strangers who will not let her slip from their grasp, doing what they must to bring her back from the brink. They breathe for her because she can not, pressing on her chest pumping her heart for it does not beat on its own, by counteracting the drugs she took to stop the damage she has already done to herself.

The why doesn't matter to these strangers, its between her and her maker. All they know is that she's not going to meet him anytime soon if they have anything to say about it.

Be Safe
Ambulance Junkie

 

Coach Now

He is a frail, weak and sickly old man.

Some time has passed, but he still looks the same to me.

He lays in front of me on his hospital bed in the living room

Face sunken in around his eyes and cheeks

Wife holding his hand, daughter at the foot of the bed

Hospice nurse giving us his paperwork and a run down.

Its funny how for years I rode on his bus to places with the rest of his team

Now he rides on my bus with my team

This time instead of to the football field we travel to the hospital

We talk about the years past

We talk about my life

Lastly we talk about football

Coach was a good man

I'm glad I had the chance to tell him how he influenced me

For Coach was in the final minutes of his final game.

He knew he was losing, and wouldn't tie up the score

That night the Ref's blow the final whistle

Game over

 Good Game Couch, Good Game.

Be Safe
Ambulance Junkie

A Knife called Envy

As we turned the corner the cop cruiser whipped around in front of us and flashed his directional bar light as if to say follow me. We knew it was going to be a legitimate trauma, as the cruiser turned the corner and pulled up on scene we were fifty yards behind rolling up to the cruiser when he jet further down as if to say there he is boys do your thing. My door opened as I called out on scene fighting through radio traffic, throwing my glasses on the dash I approach the screams and agony through a driving rain. In front of me stands a burdened woman in complete suffering. Drenched either from rain or her sorrowful tears the young woman weeps in misery. This early twenty's white female stands unable to control her frantic shaking. At my feet lays her man, my patient, with his legs over a guard rail and a bystander holding a towel on his shirtless torso. He's Limp and becoming ashen in front of my eyes, he's my age and laying in a puddle. Turning his head ever so slightly with his last gasp for air. Its as though I feel every drop of rain falling as time slows down. I remove the towel and see a non sucking chest wound just left of the sternum and one just under his left arm pit. The on lookers circling like vultures with their beady eyes gazing on my crew. A Sergeant from the Police approaches me and asks what I need, I gaze up through the driving rain and yell over the approaching sirens that I need these scavengers roosting on the railings and side walks gone. I stand to see my medic rounding the corner of the rig with his monitor in hand and the newbie in tow with the drug bag. I jump back to the rig and inform my medic in passing the locations of wounds. Grabbing the radio with my wet gloved hands I call out in an apathetic tone, "County and Control from Medic Two; Advise Trauma Two we have a traumatic arrest with two to three stab wounds to the chest; will advise once in route." I walk to the rear compartment of the rig to grab out the back board and collar bag, throwing them closer to the patient. Its no lie to say I felt no sorrow for this gang banger, though I still had a job to do. I grab the intabation kit from the inside cabinet and proceed back towards my medic. Opening the intabation kit and drug bag I prepare for a quick and systematic approach to the call.

Various other units have been arriving on scene from the Fire medics to the detectives. The street looking like a block party with rave lights bouncing off the buildings. The officers stringing the DO NOT ENTER yellow tape around the scene and various people receiving shiny linked bracelets There is no blood exiting the wounds, even if there were the driving rain would have washed it off his cold limp body. We are joined by two of the Fire Medics I would trust with my child's life, One an RN and the other an EMS instructor. The two of them and my medic use a tag team approach. My Medic Intabating, squatting in the puddle as to not get his pants soaked. The Nurse Medic throwing a large bore IV in the left AC, and the instructor Medic preparing the IO gun in the rig. I toss the prefilled Epi and Atropine to the RN medic and take the drug bag to the rig where I hang another thousand bag. I know only first round med's will be given before they move out of this rain, its cold dark and damp on the street. They secure to the body to the back board and throw it on the stretcher, wheeling it to the rig. Inside five providers pile and I close them in. Jumping in the drivers seat I put the rig in drive, kick the emergency lights on and head to Trauma Two. Just twelve minutes have elapsed since the initial dispatch.

I realize five additional occupants may seem like a little much but I wasn't wasting time to weed any out. We were only a few blocks from the highway on ramp which we jump on to head a village over. Slow and steady I proceed only topping out at 60mph. I have precious cargo, a back full of standing providers working there ass's off to save this man. Regardless of his social or economic background he is our patient and he will have every chance to survive we can give him. Slowing for the exit I hear the boys in the back quickly consult each other over the diminishing lung sounds. A Chest decompression is in order, preformed and quickly realize a shock is to follow. Pulling the rig over to a shoulder, I hear "3,2,1, Clear" and accelerate the rig back up to speed we are minutes away from Trauma two.

Arriving we hand off to the ER. having gotten him back momentarily we were hopeful. Only for all that hard work to come up short. Later we find out this was all over a girl...Not a good reason to loose a young life.

Be Safe
Ambulance Junkie

The Manor

Through the cold dark air the melody of the hustle and bustle begins to fade as time begins to slow to a more simple pace. A stately manor illuminated in the soft flickering glow of amber lights. Casting shadows to the street below, the silhouette's of the flames weave an insightful tale only to be consumed by the night itself. A peaceful breeze has set in from the west wind, with only a faint rustling of the fall leaves speaking with undertones of sorrow and grief.

The doorway is simple, yet elegant, opened as to reveal a glimpse into the life of this most distinguished guest. Entering, the magnitude begins to set in though not a word is spoken. Pillars adorn the entry with masterpieces of the past hung inbetween, a testament to there own wealth and success not lost to those who pass. Draped in white and left as pristine as humanly possible the furniture is not for comfort rather a serene place to pull ones self together.

Up the staircase reveals the master corridor in which this story takes refuge. An elegant yet simple expanse of walls, tile, paint and closed doors is set forth. The design relays comfort and compassion though only implied and never intended. Sconce's adorn each of  the ten solid oak paneled doors. The eleventh door cracked open at the end, with the faintest of light drawing you closer.

The solitary marching boots of the changing guard echo's from down the marble hallway. The soft and methodical tik-tok of hymn's can be heard from the room. Drawing ever closer, the aroma of burning incense lingers in the air as the remnants of the dancing smoke spirits escape into the darkness and to their eternal resting place. Never knowing anything more then to innocently dance on the ever wisp of air they will never struggle with the pressures of this world.

The door opening with out hesitation to reveal the red velvet carpet adorned with rose pedals. Pedals from days past which gleamed in the warmth of a summers day, discarded now along with the thoughts of yesterday. Skirting the carpet, set two by two, stand gold pedestal's as an image of strength and set with white candles on top. Each free willed flame dancing in the chill of the air, ever unable to stand still, they toss onto themselves, breaking into itself and trying to jump off the wick but never able to leave the constraints of their simple existence.

Two by two they are set forth leading the path up to the royal chest circumscribed with the bounty of the memories of yesterday and thoughts of the tomorrows never to be. The shined Mahogany wood top half closed half open. The inside inlaid with dark blue velvet, him in his Easter's best, Peaceful, At Rest from the fight he had endured. A single rose embraced in his hands.

She stands as if carved from stone, slender, motionless and reserved. Her back to those who came before her, who were now seated and had paid their respect's. They all knew him but not like her, not this way, Not like she knew him. She had never gotten the chance to really tell him how she felt and time slipped away. She had always meant to let him know but she got caught up in the enjoyment of their interactions. A chance to tell him how much she liked him had slipped away, leaving nothing but a tear in her eye.

He had always told her with a smile that "It was only Fair-well not good bye, Because Good-bye was forever and he'd see her tomorrow" But not this time, it really was Good-bye, the boy she had fallen in love with, the boy she batted her eye's at, the boy who's sheer thought would make her smile......was gone.

Standing there in line it seemed so simple now, to have just told him how she felt. The life they'd have, the children, the memories, the happiness. Now just a distant memory laid forth in front of her. He had always been that boy she fell in love with.

She stood in front of him silent and still as to not be overcome with the emotions of the life changing event. He was handsome as she knew he would be, dressed in his best with the joyous smile gracing his lips. The guy she had felt so strongly for was now so innocently waiting for her to join him. With a kiss on his lips and  wedding bells in the background they pledged their vows to each other in this very site fifty four years ago.

She reached out to touch his hand like so many times before, to gain the comfort and assurance she truly needed. Her fingers drawn over each and every wrinkle of his skin without recognition of who she was, a cold and empty understanding lost in his past. She waited for the response that would never be returned as the fear set in of all the unknowns. Now truly alone in this world without the man who was her strength, she would now have to make the decisions alone for he could no longer help. He was only a shell, once his mind had gone, but she did her best to take care of him before she too became to old and fragile to provide for him.

As she bowed her head over her husband, the boy, the guy, the man she loved, the tears began to run. Down her cheeks through the air and onto his chest as they had for years. As she weeped she longed for his embrace to comfort her and to mend her breaking heart as he had done so many times before. She felt his strong hand, heard his assuring voice comforting her. "It was only Fair-well not good bye, Because Good-bye was forever and she'd join him tomorrow"

Bringing a smile to her face, she kissed him and uttered it was a date.

Donor

He's pushed down the hallway, under the the static glow of the white florescent lights. Surrounded by a team of  immaculately gowned people, with there identity hidden by mask's like super hero's. He's pushed through the doors into the sterilized room and moved to the table. Draped and prepped, the scalpel in hand the choice has been made. He decided a long time ago that when the time came he would leave a lasting gift to the world. He had signed his donor card against his families wishes. He understood the consequence of his actions, though he felt a stronger conviction for some one in need. Besides its not as though he needed the organs any more. His Family only disagreed for because of their faith, not morally, or ethically rather only religiously.

The phone rings late at night, its the hospital. The news they have been waiting for, they have a match. His little girl is getting her new heart today. He begins to shake with the anticipation and his nerves get the best of him. He sits on the bed and wells up with emotions as his wife approaches him with concern. He tells her the news and she begins to cry unable to hold back the joy. They wake their daughter and tell her to get ready. "Ready Father?" she asks. "Your getting a gift from God" he answers. Father picks up the phone and calls our station, telling us that the hospital in the city has the transplant. We have been waiting for for this day as much as the family it feels like.

We respond to pick up our patient, a twelve year old girl who has already battled more than her fair share. We escort her to the stretcher and load her in, grab her bags from Father and secure them in the rig. This is a magical day for this family and they deserve the red carpet. We are off to the city with this precious cargo, she is in no hurry due to distress but it is a time sensitive matter.

The organ has been harvested along with other companions, and loaded up for transportation. They are taking off from a small rural airport with their respective handlers. Anticipated by numerous people, Patients, Mothers, Fathers, Son's, Daughter's, Doctors, Nurses, and so on from across the east coast.

The weight of the situation is not lost on anyone who is touched by this call. In order for this young girl to have a chance of a more normal existence a life had to be lost. Think about the sacrifice made and the commitment to a cause that would only be fulfilled after your life has ended. That is a cause I can get behind.

Be Safe
Ambulance Junkie

The ugly truth

"I don't know how long she's been down" says the bystander. We enter through the doorway into the room. We behold our patient, a Lincoln Continental sized woman. The lifeless body buck ass naked on a mattress that was dwarfed by her size. The inner concern arises as we conceptualize a way to extricate this patient. Is this even possible? There is no way the two of us can move her. I couldn't even believe she would fit through the door way.

"She wont even fit on the elevator" my partner whispers. "Not laying down" I whisper back. "so we put her on the elevator car 1 and hit the lobby button, than jump in car 2 and race to the lobby?" my partner suggests. "are you kidding my? I'm not taking the stairs!" My partner looks at me holding back the laughter "how does you taking the stairs come into the equation?" he mutters, "I don't know, I was feeling confusion, We have a job to do" I say as I enter the room leaving my partner in utter confusion.
We approach, placing the monitor on the floor, and begin our assessment. A truly mute thing at this point. Neither of us are truly thinking this is a viable option for resuscitation, but relying on training we proceed with the steps to confirm. I chirp out a quick radio transmission of an additional truck and the police to the scene. My partner places the four lead on and glances at the monitor, while I throw a set of defibrillator pads on our patient. The Monitor reads Asystole yet her body is still slightly room temperature. We debate our options in the room more for show. We point out the lavidity in the legs and arms setting in, the staff unable to understand the words coming out of our mouths. We pack up and await for the police officer to take over the scene. The instant sign of relief washes across my partners face.
We as EMS providers are imagined as super humans. We arrive on scene and are expected to save a life. We are supposed to operate with no emotion but show compassion. We are supposed to be confident in our ability to over come the largest of obstacles, some times though our human nature and concerns get in the way. We are only human after all, we have our own ways to cope with the dismal and dark side of the world. We often dont deal with people when they are having a good day. EMS typically wont be called until a persons day turns to crap, and we must remain light hearted in order to continue in this job.

Be Safe

Ambulance Junkie

Fades to Black

"Medic two responding" Like I had said countless times before without thinking of what was unraveling that very second for a human being on this earth. Deaths cold dark shadow descending on the house we were heading to. Our lights piercing through the Midnight hour leading us to the scene, The Reaper was peering his calculating gaze into the home of a young man who had so much left to give. Arriving on scene a sudden chill filled the air, the fire medics waving us in to hurry as deaths shadow dripping down the walls of the room engrossed us all, his cold bony fingers snaking across the room towards my patient. Wrapped around the trachea gripping onto this mans last few breaths, the countdown began. Pulling our patient to his knees, lips inches from the nebulizer with life saving meds. The reapers dark cloak drawing past my patients face, pealing the once pale color off to reveal his cyanosis. The patient collapsing to the floor my medic stumbles and fumbles, the pieces of this call slipping through his hands like sand. I place the BVM on this young mans face while death clutches the heart slowing it at will. We begin CPR, fighting against death's plan, My patient's color is returning his heart beating stronger, we are stopping death in his tracks, The Reaper laughs in our face about our efforts. Death drapes his shadowy cloak over the providers, weighing us down, releasing chaos from the inner depths of his being, slowing our advances. Being drawn farther into a loosing battle, we do not realize Death has already won. The room darkens as The Reaper draws the last gasping breath from his victim, this once healthy mans color drains away to grey, his eyes sunken in, his heart stopped by an icy grip, his youth slips away into history. I stand face to face with the Angel of Death unable to stop him, unable to save this soul, unable to protect the family from the news to come.

The once darkened room fades to black, I slip into a safer place within my mind, acting only on the training instilled within, all my remaining moves automatic and instinctual. Death crosses another name off his list and as quickly as he had descended onto this unexpected life he passes through the wall and is gone without a second glance. We continue to shuffle through the motions, loading the stretcher, driving with lights clearing the way and sirens screaming. We arrive at the ER only for the Doc to pronounce. We restock the rig not a word is said, return to service to await the next call, in essence sweeping this one away as quickly as it entered into my life.

I wish I could go back to a world simpler than this, back before this was a job, before I got paid to care. Back when I would have felt the sorrow of the passing of a life, back when I would have shed a tear, or been scared in the presence of Death. Back to a world of innocence but Not this, not empty, not emotionless, not cold inside. Losing the essence of being human we have nothing else to give, no deeper into the depths can we fall, we can only decide to climb out. We look inside our selves and promise we'll learn from our mistakes, we will again give it our all. Because we are human, we will learn from our mistakes and voe to not let those mistakes determine the fate of another's life. I hope the taken soul receives some sort of solace that his life lost was not in vein, nor will it be forgotten.


Be Safe
Ambulance Junkie