Life On The Squad (Part 6)

This actually the revised the version. The original has been deleted :(

 “I don’t think he’s all that dangerous, Johnny.”

He just stared for a few seconds. “Are you nuts! He pointed a gun at you!”

“But never pulled the trigger.” I pointed out.

“Because you weren’t a threat”

“I’m still not.”

“You could tell the police what he planned to do.”

“Which I have already done.”

“Which he doesn’t know.”

“Anybody would’ve figured it out.”

“I doubt he’s that smart.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but I discovered I had no comeback. “Fine. Let’s just go. There are people out there falling off cliffs and are having heart attacks!”

Roy smiled and got up. “You would love to go down another cliff.”

Guilty. I love scaling cliffs. Sure it’s at another person’s expense, but I can’t help it. Most people would feel bad about it, but then again, most people don’t illegally ride around with the best paramedics in town (and that’s a fact).

Johnny and Roy were both out the door before I was up. Thanking Dr. Brackett and Dix, I followed them out. I was thankful to be out, but also disappointed. How twisted is that?

“Squad 51, available. Kara Gage on board.” Cap’s voice came onto the radio. “Engine 51, available. All returning to station.”

“10-4, Station 51.” Back in action, I thought. I knew cap would get Johnny to see why I should come.

Beep, beep. “Squad 51, L.A. Trouble breathing. 115 Hastly Drive. 1-15 Hastly Drive. Time out, 2:38.” Wow, was it really that late?

“Squad 51.” Johnny scribbled the address down on paper.

“Hastly Drive.” I began to think. “Isn’t that the next street?”

“Yup.” Roy made a sharp right, while the end of the squad tried to continue down the other street.

“Geez, Roy.” I said, clutching the dashboard. “I’ll have to get used to your driving.” He laughed as he lurched to a stop in front of 115 Hastly Drive. As usual, Johnny and I were out before he cut the engine.

Having trouble could mean multiple things. Could be as simple as just hyperventilating or they could be on the verge of a very serious heart attack. When going in, we have to be prepared for anything. We can’t go out to the the paddles if the patient goes straight line. They have to be there.

Hastly Drive is the main street of Hastly Hills. Hastly Hills is a neighborhood dead center of businesses, or Business Square as we call it. Not many squads get into Hastly Hills, considering there are about 30 houses top.

Johnny and I were knocking on the door when Roy jogged up beside us. The door was opened by some little kid, just staring at us. I put my gear on the floor and carefully steered the kid away from the doorway for Johnny and Roy.

“I think she is having respiratory inflammation. Maybe bronchitis?”

“Whoa, wait. You know the symptoms of bronchitis and can easily identify them?”

The kid pushed his glasses against his forehead. “Maybe emphysema.”

“Ok, you know a lot of medical stuff. But,” I pointed to John and Roy. “They are having her breathe through a paper bag. She’s just hyperventilating. Maybe you should lay off the medical journals, huh?” The kid nodded, but he was staring at the equipment.

“Vince is here, Kara. We can go.” Johnny gave me the oxygen. “Let’s get out of here; next call may be a cliff.” I laughed silently. The kid was standing beside the woman, studying the brown bag as it grew and shrank. Even I wasn’t that interested in medicine.

The ride back was pretty quiet, so it was pretty easy to think. If I ever had to stop riding on the squad, I don’t know what I would do. I would miss the adrenaline rush, the feeling of running against the clock. Knowing someone’s life rests on your shoulders. A mistake could cost them everything. The life-long friends you make. The disappointment of losing a patient, that guilty feeling, the what-if’s. The determination to do better next time. All parts of my life. Dear parts of my life. It keeps my heart beating. How I would ever live without it, how I lived without it in Detroit and New York, I don’t know.

When we got back to the station, my mind was still circling the call. How the kid over-reacted. What would happen to the six million people in L.A. if all the paramedics acted like that on every call. Mistaking hyperventilating with emphysema; that was a nice touch.

The engine was gone, so I checked the last call sheet. We had missed them by four minutes. House fire, meaning that they were either putting a stove out of its misery or saving rubble from burning to the ground.

“Hey, Kara, lunch!” Johnny called from the kitchen.

“I ate with Kal and Dix.” I yelled back.

“Suit yourself.” Released, I escaped to my camper. I disposed of my duffle on the floor, then plopped on the bed. Boots came out from under the bed and joined me.

“How can so much have happened in the last day?” I asked him. For a response, he just put his head on his paws. “Yeah, thanks.” Lying there, I fell into a peaceful slumber, only waking up the next morning.

       

“Kara?” Somebody shook me. “Kara, you alive?”

“Huh?” I opened my eyes. “What, Chet?”

“We just wanted to make sure you were awake. You’ve slept for eighteen hours.”

“What?!” I grabbed the clock. Sure enough, it was eight in the morning.

“Pity, you missed a cliff run.”

“No way.” I bolted up. “You didn’t wake me up?”
            “Kara, it was midnight, and usually you’re in the squad before any of us get out of the sleeping quarters. Besides, John didn’t let us.”

“Where’s everybody now?”

“Eating breakfast. Up and at ‘em kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Chet smiled and left the camper.

Getting ready in the camper with Boots is always a challenge. He follows you around; just a few inches behind you. The camper is short and narrow, barely long enough for the bed, wide enough to stand by the bed. To turn around, I have to walk on the bed to get around Boots.

Blue pants, blue shirt, and dress shoes later, I was set to get on the squad. Roy and Johnny had gotten a run right before Chet woke me up, so I had plenty of time for breakfast once I got into the kitchen.

“Your right Chet! She's alive!” Marco cheered when I opened the door.

“Really Marco?! I thought I had died, and in heaven you just continued living you life.”

“You never know.” He said.

“Johnny was worried.” Cap said. “Eighteen hours of sleep. He thought you had fallen into a coma or something. He was starting to get to Roy.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sounds like Johnny.”

“Pick your poison.” Mike said. “Chet made eggs, bacon, and cereal.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll go with cereal.”

“Hey!” Chet said. “At least it wasn’t Roy’s cooking.”

“Not all of his cooking is bad. Remember the Beef Burgundy? That stuff put me into a food coma, and I mean that in a good way.”

“True.” Mike commented. “But not as good as Cap's clam chowder.”

“Well,” I said. “I’m not a fan of clam chowder. Anybody’s.”

“I noticed.” Cap said. “But I think the Burgundy could have had less mushrooms.”

“Agreed.” I said.

“What are you guys talking about now?” Johnny said as he returned from the run.

“We were discussing the difference between Roy’s and Chet’s cooking. Now we’re talking about Roy’s Beef Burgundy and Cap's Clam Chowder.”

“Who won?”

            “By whose standards? By Cap, it’s the chowder. By me, it’s the Burgundy.”

            :Well, I guess there’s a little disagreement there.” Roy said.

            “Yeah. How was the run?”

            “Fine.” Johnny said. “There was this little dog there. Just refused to let us by the patient. So convinced that we were going to hurt her.”

            “Aw. So cute. I wish we could have a pet.” I sighed, thinking about how nice it would be to have a dog to come home to play with on off days, or a kitten to cuddle with. But, I guess I’m just not lucky enough. Maybe some day Johnny will break and we could upgrade something else. Find a landlord that likes pets, maybe a condo or small house. Well, I can dream, can’t I?