Hour 0
Stuck in traffic again…
John hated long commutes. He never had a problem with being stuck in traffic during work, but going to work was a different thing. He wasn’t getting paid for this. Taylor Swift’s new song “Blank Blood” echoed loudly on his radio.
Beep Beep!
Some jackass behind him honked him. What was John supposed to do? Block the intersection.
Since when was there a condo over there?
The city that John was born in had changed full seasons since he was a kid. He was only gone for six years, but by the time he came back, rent had skyrocketed, castles of kings had replaced vacant wastelands and parking lots, but worst of all, the people had changed. John wasn’t entirely sure if people had magically become cold and distant, or if they were always like that. His four years at college didn’t prepare him at all for the real world. He figured that maybe people were always cold and relentless, and that he just never realized it due to high school and college giving him rose colored glasses.
The dim traffic light changed from blood red to a Christmas tree green.
Finally!
John really hated the commute. He hated how he couldn’t afford to live in the city he grew up in and worked in.
After what seemed to be an eternity, John finally made it to station parking lot. He rushed out from his car and ran into the station. Thousands of excuses flooded his head. He quickly changed into uniform. His name, once a bright gold color, was now a bleach faded bruise on his uniform, John Colt.
“Sorry, I’m late,” said John once he entered the supervisor’s office. “You know how it is on the 101.”
“You think this is some kind of joke?” said Sup Kobe. “This isn’t some tech job where you can just show up late. You show up late, then a unit getting off has to wait for your ass! Think of your fellow co-”
“Is Brian in yet?” John interrupted.
Kobe was John’s least favorite Sup. A year ago, John had forced a patient who was having a heart attack into going to the hospital. The patient didn’t want to go. Months down the line, the patient came back and sued the company. The company would win the lawsuit, but not after tons of paperwork and harsh talks with upper management. Kobe was the field supervisor in charge at the time of the call, and upper management had scolded him on keeping better tabs of his workers.
Fucker was having V-tach! What was I supposed to do? Let him die! Probably should have, ungrateful fuck.
“Yeah, he’s already finished cleaning up the rig,” sighs Kobe. “You’re medic 66 today.”
Hour 1
“Man, you listen to Taylor’s new song?” said John.
“Dude, it’s the same song as all her songs. Someone pissed her off, she makes a song that sounds like the rest, with a catchy chorus so all the little 12 year old girls can sing in unison at recess,” said Brian cynically.
“You know, she’s actually smarter than what you give her credit for.”
The dim traffic light turned from yellow to red.
Brian made an abrupt stop. He glanced left and then right. They were sandwiched between two cars. Brian clicked a button. Both Brian and John’s windows went down simultaneously.
They both took a deep breath. Brian hit a button on his phone’s playlist.
“Making my way down town! Walking fast, faces past and I’m homebound!!!” they sang in unison.
The radio blasted “A Thousand Miles”. This was a ritual that the two implemented after having watched “White Chicks” on one of their slower shifts. Once a shift, if they stopped at a slow red light, they would recreate Terry Crews’s scene in “White Chicks” just to mess with nearby drivers.
The driver on the left tried her best to pretend to ignore them. The driver on the right burst into laughter and didn’t notice the light turn green.
Hour 3
ZZZ…
John and Brian were both fast asleep. The city was kind enough to not curse them with any calls thus far. They were posted up in their favorite Walgreens parking lot. Brian especially needed it. He was on the last 12 of a 36 hour shift. He wasn’t as young he used to be, and he couldn’t handle taking 36 hour back to back overtime shifts like the old days. But what was he going to do? Overtime was irresistible, and kids weren’t going to pay themselves.
Hour 5
Bzzzzz! Dispatch to medic 66! Code 2!
Both medics let out a simultaneous yawn. John wiped the morning tears from his eyes and read the van’s display.
Medic 66 Code 2 for Abdominal Pain 48 yr old White Male. Address: XXXXXX
“It’s Sammy Sammich. I bet you it’s him,” says John gleefully as he puts on tear blue gloves and hits enroute on the display.
“If it’s not him, it’s just gonna be some other bum,” sighed Brian as he turned on the engine.
“Bum. Come on man. It’s called ‘Economically Disadvantaged’. You gotta learn to love your crackheads!”
“Loving them’s easy after a couple of Jameson’s.”
“Jameson. Can’t believe you can even drink that stuff. It burns coming in and out.”
“Better than your drink of choice. What kind of full grown man prefers wine over whiskey?”
“The kind of man that’s doing your mom!”
Brian let out a laugh. “Well, whaddya know? You’re right. There’s Sam.”
Brian stopped the rig and put on its secondaries. A car honks them as it abruptly stops. Brian sticks his hand out the window and raises his thumb up.
Sam, a burly looking man wearing a dirty wife beater and an even dirtier smell, carried a trash bag with his belongings in his left hand and waved at the medics with his right.
Brian put on sterile gloves. The two medics came out and greeted their frequent flier.
“Fucking alright!” smiled Sam. “My two favorite medics! Actually I only like you, John! Brian, you’re kind of an ass!”
“What’s got you irritated today?” laughed John. “You got stomach problems?”
“Yeah, I’m fucking hungry! I want a sammich!”
“It’s gonna be 2000 dollars for that sandwich. Can you pay us this time?” smiled John.
“If I did, I swear, I’ll pay you both up front in cash. But it’s gonna be Obama Care today. I’ll have the money soon. I got a plan!”
Brian clicked his tongue in disgust as John handed Sam the PCR tablet. Sam signed his name on the PCR and gave the tablet back to John. The three of them walked towards the rig. Sam happily swung his trash bag. Brian felt the bag graze his leg.
He turned around. “Don’t you dare fucking touch with me that bag!”
“What’s up his butt?” said Sam as he turned his head to John.
“Nothing, trust me,” replied John. “He’d be happier if there was something up there.”
Sam laughed and lept onto the back of the rig. John jumped in the back with him. Brian wiped his pant leg with an anti bacterial wipe before heading off to General.
Hour 7
Brian and John had dropped Sam off at General over an hour ago and were now having a rap battle against two other medics, Chris and Ivan. Chris had been John’s classmate back in the medic program. Even then, they were always having pointless competitions of who could get IVs faster or who could intubate faster. Ivan was a medic back in Florida and moved to the city.
John began beat boxing as Brian spit out what he called, “Icy Fire.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“My name’s Brian Snow and I’m ready to go, your girl ready to blow. Sit your ass down and watch the show! We the garbage crew who’s gonna win, dump both your asses down a garbage bin!”
Chris began beat boxing as Ivan went, “Check it, check it. Gotta hand you a ticket. Don’t wanna be a snitch but I’m putting you on blast, as the whole world watches me kicking your ass. Gotta represent medic-”
Bzzzz! Dispatch to medic 66! Code 3!
“Man, you guys are lucky,” smirked John. “Right before we were going to win, and the city calls!”
“Saving lives, right?” laughed Chris.
“Living the dream,” sighed Brian.
Brian and John head back to the rig and hit the enroute button.
“What do we got this time?” said Brian.
“It says a 32 year old white male unconscious. Possible cardiac arrest. The address is that Starbucks down XXXX. You up to get some coffee?”
“An Irish coffee.” laughed Brian.
The medics arrive on scene and are greeted by a grumpy employee.
“He wouldn’t wake up no matter what I did,” said the employee.
“Did you try shaking or touching him?” said Brian.
The employee shook his head.
“Cancel the engine, this is not an arrest,” whispered John into his radio.
Brian went over to the “unconscious man” who was loudly snoring. He was wearing a white shirt and dirty jeans with a bottle of Jameson rolling by his feet.
“This is bullshit,” whispered another Starbucks employee behind the counter talking to her fellow coworker. “Can’t believe we can’t leave till he does.”
“I know right,” whispered the employee. “I hate these closing shifts.”
“Rise and shine!” said Brian as he shook the patient.
Grumble.
The patient raised his head slowly and said, “Huh? What?”
“Dude, you can’t sleep here,” said Brian. “Some people got to get home. We’ll take you to a nice hospital where you can sleep all you want.”
“Where the fuck do you get off, waking some one off?! I sleep where I want. This is America!” yelled the patient as he got up from his chair. The smell of alcohol permeated the air from his breath.
“Sir, lower your voice and sit down!!!” said Brian as he took a step closer to the patient and glared at him in the eye.
John pulled Brian back and went in between the two. “Guys, relax.”
Don’t do this Brian, you’re making shit worse!
He turned towards the patient, held out his hand, and said, “We got on the wrong foot. Let’s start over.”
Brian sneaked behind the patient.
“Fuck off!” said the patient as he slapped John’s hand. “Trying to trick me with your cop mind games! I ain’t gonna fall for that pig shit!”
“Sir, we are not cops,” said John as he pulled out his stethoscope. “Look, all we have is medical equipment. No guns, no tazers, no mace. Let’s go over to the ambulance and talk this out, alright?”
“Bullshit! All you blue uniforms are the same shit! I ain’t going nowhere!” The patient sat back down in his chair, folded his arms, and laid his head on the table.
Jesus Christ.
John bent down and lowered himself to the patient’s level. “Sir, what’s your name, man?”
No response.
John continued, “Come on, man, there are some minimum wage college workers here who can’t go home unless you leave. We’re not going to bring you anywhere you don’t want to be, but can we just talk outside?”
The patient slowly got up.
“Follow us, the ambulance is right outside.”
All of a sudden, the patient pushed John. Like lightning, Brian, who was behind the patient, grabbed him by the waist, lifted him up, and slammed him down on the ground.
Brian immediately followed up by jumping up on top of the patient and yelled, “Don’t you fucking touch my partner!!!”
The patient, still dazed at being slammed on the floor and also being intoxicated, could only stare at the ceiling in silence.
“You lost your chance! We were going to try to bring you to the hospital and get you checked out, but now the cops are coming. We’re going to do this in either two ways! You can keep being a shit head, and my partner over there is going to tie you up till the cops come and bring you to jail! Or you can wait quietly with us as we get your vitals. Then when the cops come, I’ll say that you are now compliant, and we will bring you to a nice hospital room. Jail or a hospital. You choose.”
“I’ll-I’ll t-take the hospital.”
“Good.”
Hour 8
Brian and John had just dropped off the drunk patient who they found out was named Eric. John had finished his PCR super fast and was helping Brian do decon. They were both wiping down the ambulance’s equipment. Brian made sure to wipe down his sleeves, his shirt, anything really that touched the Eric when he slammed him.
“How heavy do you think that guy was?” groaned Brian as he cracked his back.
“He said that he was 160,” replied John. “Why, your back hurts?”
“Kinda, I think I just rushed it when I slammed him. Haven’t wrestled since college. No worries, I should be okay after a good night’s sleep.”
“Good night’s sleep. You get those?”
“Yeah, they’re awesome. You should try it sometime,” laughed Brian.
Hour 10
The two medics were posted in their same favorite Walgreens parking lot. Both were giving their best attempt at “a good night’s sleep”.
Bzzzz! Dispatch to medic 66! Code 3!
Medic 66 Code 3 MVA. Silver Toyota v pole. Address: XXXXXX.
John put on his sterile gloves as Brian turned on the sirens. In no time at all, they arrived on scene.
“Crap, so we’re first on scene,” said Brian.
“Two engines should be enroute,” said John as they both got out of the ambulance with their gear. “And I’m sure as hell, they’re sending us backup.”
As the two did a circle round the scene to check for hazards and number of patients, John couldn’t help but think, “Shit.”
A woman was lying prone on the ground. Her head was drenched in blood and glass shards. Her neck was bent in an inhumane angle.
She’s a goner.
John looked inside the car and could see that a seatbelt not put on, caused her to be flung from the driver’s seat out the window. The car’s front window had a huge hole in it.
Wah! Wah! Wah!
There were two kids in the car’s back seats. One tiny girl in a car seat was crying. An older boy, probably 10 years old, was unconscious with a huge hematoma superior to the left eye, on the anterior part of the frontal bone.
P-Peds…
Brian was slipping a black triage tag on the woman.
John put a red triage tag on the boy while talking to the girl, “Hey, there, my name is John, and I’m here to help. Can you tell me your name?”
“Mommy!!! Where’s my mommy?” sobbed the girl.
John noticed the boy wasn’t breathing.
Shit! Shit!
“The boy’s apneic!” John yelled to Brian as he clicked the eject button on the boy’s seat belt. The seatbelt wouldn’t come off.
Fuck, it’s stuck!
John took out his emergency knife and began the arduous task of cutting the seat belt. His hands shook as he was cutting.
Stop shaking! Get it together, damn it!
“Where’s mommy?! What are you doing?!!!”
“I’m trying to help your brother. He’s really hurt right now, and I’m t-trying to make sure he gets better.”
W-Why won’t I stop shaking?! W-why won’t this fucking seatbelt come off?!!!
“Stop lying, you bad guy! My mommy’s gonna get you!”
John’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Sweat perspired from his forehead. His knees and his back were getting tired from bending over so long in a cramped car. The girl’s constant crying pierced his eardrums. Then, it happened. John dropped his knife.
“Shut the fuck up!!! Your mom’s fucking dead, and so is your brother if you don’t stop fucking crying!!!” yelled John.
“W-what?” sobbed the little girl as she began to cry more profusely.
Fuck!!! Keep it together, John!
John felt someone’s hand on his shoulder and turned around. It was Brian.
“Let’s switch,” said Brian as John backed away. “Set me up as I get him out. Already called dispatch and another rig, and a RC should be coming.”
Brian picked up John’s knife and began to cut through the seat belt. He turned his head to the girl and said calmly, “Hey, hey, look at me.”
The girl ignored Brian and continued to cry.
“You can trust me. My partner over there just yelled because he was angry, but he wasn’t angry with you. Look in my eyes, okay?”
The girl’s cries turned to softer sobs, and she looked at Brian.
“Your brother and your mom are hurt right now, and we’re going to help them. You can help us by staying calm for us. Can you do that?”
The girl nodded her head.
“Great! What’s your name?” said Brian as the seatbelt came off.
Brian carried the boy out of the car. Kid wasn’t breathing and was blue, c-spine could wait another day. John had already laid out a backboard on the ground. Brian placed the boy on the board. John was ready with a pediatric BVM and a pediatric OPA in hand. An engine had arrived, and engine medics were assisting John. An RC had arrived. Soon, Chris and Ivan had arrived. They began treating the mom after finding out that she did actually have a weak, slow central pulse.
After securing a bls airway and bagging, the boy’s pulse oximetry was good, but his mental status remained GCS 1+1+4=6. The RC gave the order to transport to general with both pediatric patients. The little girl appeared perfectly fine, physically.
After loading the two up, Brian turned to John and said, “You drive. I got it from here.”
John simply nodded.
Thank you.
An engine medic climbed along to assist Brian in bagging the boy. John turned the lights and sirens on and started driving code 3.
Back when John first got onto the 911 ambulance system, he loved going code 3. The lights, the sirens, the speed, the intensity. Everything caught his heart and sense of adventure. After some time in the EMS system, he lost that love and rush. Long ago, he realized, “Driving like this is crazy. Downright reckless. This isn’t safe at all.”
Still, he was relieved that he got to drive on this call. As he was driving, he listened to Brian treat the boy and talk to the girl at the same time. He was amazed. He calmed her down, and bagged the boy with no mistakes at the same time. Through their conversation, John learned that the girl was named Summer and that her brother was named Jaden. The medics wheeled their patients in quickly and transferred care.
Brian finished his PCR pretty quickly and went to help John finishing deconning. Then they headed to the EMS break room in the hospital. Brian made some coffee and turned on the break room’s TV. After half an hour, John left the room and started talking to a nurse.
“Hey, what’s up, Mary?” said John. “Do you happen to know what happened to the three trauma patients that were admitted in earlier? The MVA.”
“The little girl will be fine,” said the Mary as she began to pull up a record on a computer screen.
“Yeah, and?”
“The boy, he’s most likely going to be paralyzed from the neck down. Scans show he’s positive for a SCI. The mother didn’t make it. She was in PEA the entire time before they called it. I think a case worker’s supposed to come in for them soon. I think the dad passed 3 years ago.”
“What? Are you serious?” chuckled John nervously.
“I’m getting a page,” replied Mary as she walked away.
John felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Brian.
“Yo, you want to head over to the Walgreens parking lot? We got the post XX. Let’s grab some Twinkies,” said Brian.
Hour 11
John had remained silent for the ride to Walgreens. Brian was in the Walgreens, and John remained in the ambulance. He was trying to catch some sleep.
Brian came back with two packs of Twinkies. “Yo, man, Twinkie?”
John didn’t respond.
Brian continued, “Dude, you there?”
“What, oh, sorry,” replied John.
“Well, Twinkie, dude?”
“Not hungry, but thanks.”
Bzzzz! Dispatch to medic 66! Code 2!
Medic 66 RTB.
“Yes, RTB!!!” exclaimed Brian as he started up the ambulance.
They were cruising by in the streets when they stopped at a red light. The radio began playing “A Thousand Miles”.
Brian rolled the windows down and began to sing, “Making my way down-”
He noticed that he was singing by himself. “John, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just… just tired.”
The light turned green. Brian stepped on the gas. The song on the radio changed to “Blank Blood”.
“Not this song again. You know what? I don’t care what you say, Taylor Swift’s songs are all the same shit,” said Brian.
John paused then chuckled. “Stop being a hater. She’s more talented and smart than you give her credit for.”
“What’s so smart about making a bunch of songs that are actually the same song?”
“That’s what’s so smart about her. She managed to find a way to become successful at doing the same thing over and over again!”
“Hmm. A way of doing the same thing over and over again,” said Brian as he began to have a moment of thought.
Brian broke out into laughter. “What kind of bullshit is that? Is that the famous critical thinking you learned in college?”
“Of course, that’s why they call it a BS.”
The End.
Dedicated to my brothers and sisters of EMS for what you do everyday.