Wednesday, August 8, 2007
- Trustees of Modern Chemistry III
It is 3 in the afternoon, and a nice, Louisiana fall is unfolding before my eyes. The trees are a beautiful orange, and the temperature outside is extremely pleasant, although there is a definite chill in the air. It's going to get nippley when the sun goes down. A bitch in the yard next door to our station lays in the sun, her puppies playing with her ears. Her owners are big fans of XXXX Ambulance Service and often, during hunting season, they will bring us cuts of venison and rabbit stew. In the summer we get melons and vegetables. Best Partner Ever* and I are sitting on the steps, me with a copy of The Economist magazine and him with his cigarette. I smile at him and he smiles back. Everything is well.
"Looks like the dollar's getting it's ass kicked again," I state.
"Hmmmph." Best Partner Ever blows a smoke ring as he soaks this in. "You actually read that shit?"
"I can infer a lot from looking at the graphs, ok? I am a High School Graduate. The sad smiley face and big downward arrow next to the dollar sign was plain enough for me."
We both laugh, and all of a sudden this makes me realize that I have to pee. I also realized that we missed lunch. I make the critical error of mentioning these two items to BPE. For those of you in the biz, you can draw a conclusion of what happened next.
As "...and get some lunch?" left my lips, the station phone rang.
"Priority One towards Mosquito Bayou - female found in bayou, swimming, fully clothed. Family states she has a history of substance abuse. Law Enforcement enroute."
We rocket along the windy country road. The residence actually is outside the City (I use that term loosely) limits, but not by much. Mosquito Bayou is usually good for two types of calls - Complete and Utter bullshit, and Complete and Utter OH SHIT.
Yeah. Guess which one this is.
We're making good time to the scene - I swear the engine in the BattleWagon runs better in the cool, crisp air, and it hums beautifully. Even the impending clash with someone who's high enough to think that taking a dip in the cold bayou isn't enough to dampen my spirits. It's too nice of a day.
Let me interrupt the story now to tell you something - God knows when I'm happy. To quote R. Lee Ermy, He plays his games, and we play ours. A lot of times, I'm positive I'm just a tiny pawn in the master plan of things.
Other times, I'm sure I'm the rube on the hidden camera show he has piped to his throne, watching me as receive the celestial equivalent of "Television's Bloopers and Practical Jokes."
Laugh it up, Jesus.
I have an inkling that something is wrong when not one, but TWO BackWater Parish pass us up in the opposite direction. I hop on the horn and call dispatch, who says, really really really, that they called the po-leece to come with us. But just in case....hold up. So that they can call the police.
We shut down and loop back around behind the troopers, who pull up at a local restaurant. They've both made it inside already. We explain the situation to said LEOs. The elder, his belly extending prodigiously over his utility belt, informs us that he has already ordered his food, and will NOT be accompanying us on our little "expedirtion". The youth, known to our station as Tater, is eager, as my partner and I are, and agrees to escort us to the scene. We inform dispatch of this, and they give their consent to our plan of action. The family has called back to state that the errent member has returned is now soaking, still fully clothed, in a tub.
We thunder on around country corners, covering the road quickly, and pull up to a run down, beat up house. Normally we would cover in the unit a safe distance away, but BPE and I know Tater the deputy well, and I'm worried that he might have his hands full. As soon as we step out, I can hear a three tone call being delivered from inside the habitation - Wooooo -OOOO OOO-----OOOOh. Low, high, medium. Woooo-OOOOO-OOOOh. Like an air raid siren. As I pass a pair of gloves to the officer, the door to the domicile burts open, and out pops the guest of honor - soaking wet, in two layers of denim and finery, pupils so large I can see them from 20 feet away. I hunker protectively behind the deputy's car as he pulls his piece.
"GEDOWNONTHEGROUNNOW! RINOW!" He yells. Although I would've not previously believed it, at the site of two paramedics and an upset, armed deputy, her eyes go wider.
"WOOOOOO----OOOOO---OOOOH!" She shouts, waving her arms like a skydancer - one of those goofy ass things you see at grand openings and the like. Then she turns around and tries to run back inside, only to trip on a welcome mat. Tater seizes the opportunity and runs up the front steps. For all of her tininess, she puts up a good fight when he jumps on her - so much so that I, coming up the stairs, see that he is about to fall off. Apparently this particulah speciman of Cockus Crachedii (thanks, AD!) is super wiggly!Huzzah. I plant my knee in between her shoulder blades and Tater cuffs her up. She looks all the world like a cracked out, beached submarine. She slobbers and gibbers at us as her family rushes in and starts yelling at us.
"What are you doin' to hea?! She was swimmin in da bi-yo! Bring her to da hospital! She sick, not under arrest!"
I leave the delicacies to Tater as the three of us hustle her out to the stretcher Best Partner Ever has thoughtfully pulled. We grab the monitor and bags I dropped in my haste to restrain Mistress Freakout the II and get her loaded into the back so BPE can do his assessment. After throwing a NRB on her I step back outside to the family and explain to them why we appeared to be so rough - the quicker we get her under control and loaded up, the quicker we can help her, and that calms them down. In reality I don't think my words have any calming effect - they're just happy this mess is off thier hands. I ask for her history and they tell me "She smokes the rock. All the damn time. Just got out of rehab. That bitch took my check!".
We get her restrained with hands at 12 and 5 (to the tune of Wooooo-OOOOOOO-----OOOOh! Wooooo-OOOOOOO-----OOOOh!) , and we get en route to the hospital with a police escort following - BPE has me patch a report. He has managed to verbally calm the patient and we even loosen the Headbed we taped on her to keep her from smacking her face on the plastic of the board. BPE reports slightly increased vital signs, but nothing to suggest excited deliruium. We bring her into the hospital - she is snoozing now, and we get her transferred over to the hospital bed with the help of BAPS Nurse, who you may remember from Medicmarch goes to seizure rodeo. Just then Bad Attitude Nurse bustles in, arms akimbo. "What the hell is this shit?" she asks loudly, pointing disgustedly at our patient.
I belatedly make a shushing gesture, but it's too late. We've awakened the little angel on the stretcher, and she lets us know.
I am pissed, but not as pissed as little angel. Her hands, which BPE and I were attempting to tie. My side is secured, but BPE's is not, and a hand reaches out and claws at BAPS nurse and then pulls off her NRB. BAPS Nurse cocks an eyebrow, and with no hesitation, CHOKESLAMS the rising Crachedii back onto the board.
As I've previously stated, BAPS Nurse is my hero.
"YA'LL TREATING ME LIKE AN ANIMAL!" Screams our bundle of joy.
BAPS Nurse's eyes are cold. "Act like an animal, you get treated like one"
The Patient is b52'd and later I see her sleeping.
Peaceful as all get out.
Guys, there's been a definite lack of updates, and I'm sorry. I'm going to post part II of this story when I get some free time as well as the WORST CALL EVER. Stay tuned.
PS * He really was my best partner ever. I miss him every shift. His wife's garter hangs from my rearview. We're going out at the end of the month on a three day weekend to The Big Easy, and I'm super excited.