Disclaimer:  Nothing related to Emergency belongs to me.  As usual, I’m only playing.  I really try to be careful with the toys, but I can’t help it.  For some reason, they always get broken.  Here are my fingers…slap them.  At least I fix them by the time I put them away.  This is an alternate ending for the episode, Above and Beyond Nearly.  With all due respect to the writer (Preston Wood, all original dialogue from the episode belongs to you and you alone), our fearless paramedics fall off a rock face while free climbing…AFTER Cap tells them to only bring out one victim (can we say foreshadowing??) and no one gets hurt????  I don’t THINK so…not in my world anyway.  Thank you Mark VII and Universal for allowing me to right this heinous wrong.

Note to readers:  Part of this story is done in first person point of view, alternating between Roy and Johnny.  The words in italics are what they are hearing other people say around and to them.  You’ll figure it out…

Above and Beyond…And Then Some

By Morningwolf

There is always safety in valor.  –Ralph Waldo Emerson

…I have led you up these steep and dangerous rocks…to show you the foe within your reach.  –James Wolfe

Cap stared in bitter awe at the craggy rock face and the two figures who were carefully climbing it.  He bit his lower lip nervously, knowing he had tempted fate with his comment.  Make sure you only have one victim to take out…he had said.  Cursing under his breath, the captain hoped he hadn’t just sent his men on a suicide mission.  But even so, what else was there to be done?  Daylight was waning fast, and it would take too long for a copter to arrive.  Heart in his throat, Cap followed his two rescue men with his eyes as they inched their way higher and higher.  Come on, boys…you can do it…just a little bit farther…But then, in an instant, the unthinkable happened.  He gasped aloud as he saw the youngest member of his team falter his tenuous hold on the rocks.  For a brief moment, Cap thought he had only imagined it, but as the surreal scene that followed played out, he could only stand bolted in place, gaping in disbelief.

Johnny’s scream could just barely be heard from Cap’s vantage point on the ground, and it was sickeningly silenced when the left side of his body slammed mercilessly into the rocks before careening down the side of the cliff.  Cap held his breath for a moment, waiting in suspended space for Roy to get control of the rope, praying that he could stop the lighter man’s fall.  But, the momentum was too great.  Mere seconds later, the second paramedic followed his partner, both tumbling and sliding toward the ground.  Cap’s handie talkie was out of his pocket, and words were leaving his mouth of their own volition as his boots kicked up dust running to where his two crewmen lay motionless.  “L.A., engine 51.  We have a code I times two at this location.  Both paramedics down.  Send two squads and an ambulance in addition to Copter 14.”

zzz

Roy…Roy, can you hear me?  Chet…Chet’s voice.  I open my eyes to see his worried face leaning over me.  I’m lying on the ground, trying to make sense of my surroundings.  I try to sit up, but I’m halted by two sets of hands.  Marco, I realize, is kneeling on my other side.  Pain courses through my right shoulder and down my arm.  My hands burn.  A rope…sliding rapidly through my fingers as I tried desperately to grab it.  A scream.  “Johnny…”  I try to sit up again.

Stay still, Roy.  Johnny’s okay.  Cap’s with him.  Marco this time, but he does not sound convinced.  I’m not convinced either.  I need to see for myself.  I insist I’m all right and again struggle to sit up.  But, this time, my friends help me.  My breath is temporarily stolen from me as agony explodes in my shoulder.  Dislocated, most likely.  A fracture wouldn’t hurt this bad, would it?  I blink to clear my vision and realize my partner is lying only a few feet away.  He’s not moving.  I hear Cap shouting his name, trying to get him to respond.  Mike is running his hands over long, gangly limbs.  His words cause bile to creep up the back of my throat. 

He’s got a compound tibia fracture, Cap.  His femur might be fractured too.

Cap’s voice, more urgent this time, cuts through my nausea induced fog.  John!  Come on, pal.  Open your eyes!

I wonder how long Johnny’s been unconscious.  But then I realize I have no idea how long I was out.  It’s not quite dark yet, so I estimate it couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes. Then, I remember the victim we had been trying to rescue.  “The guy on the cliff…”

Chet again prevents my movement.  There are two squads on the way.  They’ll see to him…and to you and Johnny.

Despite protests from my crewmates, I inch my way closer to the others.  “Cap, what are his vitals?”

Cap shoots a look of acerbic concern in my direction.  Roy, lie down and wait for the paramedics.

Again, I insist that I’m fine.  Just a dislocated shoulder, I argue.  And Johnny needs my help.  “Cap…”  I wish my voice would stop betraying the amount of pain I’m feeling.

Roy, you were out cold for a few minutes.  Lie down!  Then, the ‘captain tone’ softens.  We’ll take care of John.  He turns back as Johnny begins moaning.

zzz

Voices.  They sound familiar, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.  Fear grips me by the throat as I realize I don’t know where I am or what’s happening.  The only thing I know for sure is that I’m in pain…a lot of it.  The whole left side of my body is killing me.  It’s so bad I want to cry out, but my mouth doesn’t seem to be working right.  I hear someone moaning and realize it’s me.

John…hear me?

Cap.  What’s he saying?  I try to open my eyes, but it’s too hard.  I try moving my head, but something’s holding it in place.  I moan again.

Try not…move…bad fall…

Yes, that’s Cap.  Something about a bad fall.  Me? Images flash through my mind…a rock face…climbing…telling Roy if he fell, I wouldn’t be able to hold him… “Roy…”  My tongue feels swollen.  I taste blood.

…Fine…right here…shoulder, but…okay…

I’m frustrated that I can’t grab onto everything Cap is telling me.  If Roy is okay, why isn’t he here helping me?  Unbelievable paroxysms in my left leg wash away all other thought.  I break into a sweat.  I’m cold and I shiver, causing my left side to smart…up high, under my arm.  Ribs?  An anguished groan escapes my lips before I can stop it.

Easy…easy, pal.  Mike, grab a blanket and the trauma box from the squad.  Then, get his BP.  Marco? See if you can get that bleeding under control.

It takes me a few seconds to realize I understood everything Cap just said.  Bleeding?  Is he talking about me or Roy?  Pressure against my lower leg and my world explodes.  I pant through it until I can make out the reassuring tones of my captain.

Looks like your leg is broken, John.  It’s compound.  Marco’s gotta hold pressure on it.  Can you tell me if you hurt anywhere else?

I try to resist the urge to tell Cap I hurt everywhere, but that’s sure as hell what it feels like.  I’ve heard patients tell me that before, and now I know why.  I try to sort it out.  My left shoulder feels like its busted.  My whole arm aches and my fingers tingle.  “Shoulder…”  Even talking hurts.  I feel hands on my collarbone.  It doesn’t hurt there, but I can’t form the words to explain that.  They move to the upper part of my arm and an involuntary cry is wrenched from my throat.

Might be a fractured humerus.  Check his ribs, Cap.

Roy’s voice.  Thank God.  But, it sounds strained.  “Roy?”  Fingers move over my left side now, and I try to move away from the pain they cause.  This is just too much.  But then I feel something else.  A hand wraps around mine.  I clasp onto it, savoring its sturdy warmth.  Finally, I open my eyes.  Roy.  I try to smile.

zzz

My ears scan the horizon, searching for sirens.  What two squads did they dispatch?  Where are they coming from?  My eyes move away from my struggling partner until they find a patch of clothing hundreds of feet above me.  The victim.  He hasn’t moved.  And this delay in treatment isn’t helping him.  My shoulder hurts so bad I feel like I could throw up everything I’ve had to eat today, and now I’m getting a headache.  My vision fades for the briefest moment until a weak sound snaps me out of my trance.

Roy…

I look down at Johnny and notice he’s in some distress.  His brown eyes have lost their usual sparkle, and there’s an emotion there I rarely ever see in my brave friend.  Fear.  I let him know I’m here and that everything is going to be okay.

Roy…I…I’m havin’ a little trouble…breathing.

Damn it.  I look over at Cap to see if he heard.  He did.  Mike, get the O2.  Hang in there, pal.

I watch Mike reach for the oxygen cylinder.  He looks over at me questioningly.  “15 liters, “I tell him.  And I look on helplessly as Mike carefully affixes the mask to Johnny’s face, wishing I could check his lung sounds, wishing I could talk to a doctor…Wait a minute.  “Anyone call Rampart yet?”

Cap grits his teeth.  I feel sorry for him.  I know this hasn’t been easy, and he’s been doing a good job dealing with the situation.  But I sense his frustration.  About to do that now, Roy.  And he does.  Rampart, County 51.  We have two paramedics injured in a fall.  Victim one is Roy Desoto.  He was unconscious less than five minutes.  He is now awake and oriented times four, but is experiencing nausea, dizziness, and a headache…

I glance over at my captain.  How does he know that?

…numerous abrasions and contusions.  Rope burns on the palms of both hands.  Probable dislocation of the right shoulder.  Vital signs are pulse 90, respirations 16, BP 130 over 84.  Cap pauses, allowing Brackett to process all of the information he has been given.  Victim two is John Gage.  He was unresponsive for just over five minutes and is currently groggy and semi responsive to verbal command.  Numerous abrasions and contusions.  Minor laceration on the right forehead.  Compound fracture of the left tibia and possible fracture of the left femur.  Possible fractured humerus and ribs, also on the left side.  He’s in considerable pain.  Vitals are pulse 110, respirations 36, shallow and labored, BP 134 over 92.  Pupils are equal and reactive, Rampart.  He’s on 15 liters of O2.

I can hear the tension in Brackett’s voice.  It matches my own trepidation.  Johnny has had his share of scrapes, but nothing like this.  I can imagine the doctor’s mouth twitching.  51, is there another squad on scene yet?

I lock eyes with Cap as he gives the negative reply and informs Brackett that there’s another victim no one has been able to reach yet.  I barely register the doctor’s instructions to control any bleeding and continue monitoring vitals.  I feel a blood pressure cuff being wrapped around my arm and look over at Chet’s concerned expression.  The world spins and I feel sick.  I close my eyes…just for a minute.

zzz

Suddenly I can no longer feel Roy’s hand.  I hear urgent voices calling his name.  I scan my limited field of vision, but I can’t see anything.  “Roy…”

He’s fine, John.  Let’s worry about you.  Cap is using the standard diversion statement.  In other words, he’s lying to me because he doesn’t want me to worry.  Well I am worried damn it!  And this pain is starting to get to me now.  It’s overwhelming.  I must be freaking out a little because Cap keeps talking to me like he wants me to calm down.  I have no idea what he’s saying.

A sharp barb pierces my side and I feel like I can’t catch my breath.  I feel panicked.  I need Roy.  He said he was okay.  He lied to me too.  I try to keep focused on Cap’s face as the edges of my vision turn gray.

…with me, John.

“Huh?”  I’m so tired.  I need to get away from this pain.  Just let me sleep.

I hear other voices interspersed with Cap’s, but everything is garbled and I can’t concentrate.  Someone needs to do something soon.  I hear myself groaning again and I can no longer make myself be embarrassed by it.  “Hurts…”

A hand squeezes mine.  I have no idea who it belongs to, but I cling to it as if it’s the only thing saving me from a plunge off the edge.  Maybe it is.  Then, another familiar face looms over mine.  Dwyer.  I guess if I can’t have Roy here to take care of things, Dwyer is the next best thing.  Where is Roy anyway?  What aren’t they telling me?  “Roy…”

Thanks for the compliment, but it’s me, Charlie.  Take it easy, Johnny.  We’re gonna have you on your way to Rampart real soon. 

I feel cold air against my skin and realize Dwyer is cutting my clothes.  Something cool presses against my chest.  …Deep breaths.  I try, but I can’t.  All of a sudden my brain is swimming with his questions, and the more I try to answer them, the louder my head screams.  Hands are on my leg now and the banshee cry that leaves my throat when they move it scares the hell out of me.  The last thing I’m aware of is hot tears burning my cheeks.

zzz

I awake to the sound of rotor blades.  It seems louder than it ever has before, and it’s making my head pound.

Welcome back.

The voice is familiar, but the face is blurry.  I blink a few times and stare up into the face of Billy Hanks.  Didn’t we just train him like what…two days ago?  No, I guess it’s been a while.  I realize I’m in a helicopter, but it’s a little strange being inside the stokes basket instead of next to it.  I lift my head to see if Johnny is with me.  Big mistake.  Everything spins and I can taste my dinner.  Billy must sense what I need to know, because he points to the left and tells me Johnny’s okay.  Way to go, Billy.  I always thought you were the most promising trainee we ever had.

Then a thought occurs to me.  “Billy…the other man…on the cliff…”

Brice and Bellingham were with him when we left.

There’s something Billy’s not telling me.  His voice reeks of practiced calm and immediately I know the man we were to rescue didn’t make it.  There’s no way we would be flying to Rampart without him if he were still alive.  “He’s…dead.”

Billy was quiet for a moment before finally admitting what I already knew.

“Does…Johnny know?”  I see Billy look over in my partner’s direction before turning back to me.  I don’t know.  I don’t think so.

Slowly I turn my head to the side to look at the stokes next to mine.  With his entire leg splinted and his arm bound to his body, my partner looks like a mummy.  I try to focus on the somewhat erratic pattern of his breathing, trying to take comfort from it.  But, his respiratory distress is troubling.  I get Dwyer’s attention.  “He’s not…breathing too good.”

Dwyer is kneeling next to Johnny with his arm resting on his knee.  I’m relieved.  Charlie was in the first paramedic class with me, and he’s one of the best providers in the department.  He hesitates at my observation, but then he fills me in.  I guess he figures I’ll be able to figure it out anyway. 

He’s having some trouble breathing on the left.  Doesn’t seem too bad.

Yet.  If Johnny has a tension pneumo he could go into respiratory arrest before we touch down.  Flying is not the best thing for someone in that condition.  I wonder if Johnny is conscious.  If he is, he’s gotta be scared to death…not to mention going nearly out of his head from pain.  I see Dwyer lean over him, talking.  He is awake.  I strain to hear, but the damn copter is too noisy.  Finally I weave my hand out from under the blanket covering me and reach across the gap between me and my partner.  I seek out his hand and brush against the back of it…just to let him know I’m here.

zzz

In twenty nine years I’ve never felt this bad.  Until tonight, I wouldn’t have even thought it was possible.  Sure, I’ve seen my share of patients in pain, but being on this side of things is an experience I could have lived my entire life without.  If this is god’s cruel idea of empathy training, he’s got a real sick sense of humor.  I gave up trying to communicate shortly after I woke up and realized I was on my way to Rampart.  Unrelenting pain was stealing all of my attention, and it was too hard to try concentrating on anything else.  So much easier just to shut down.  I tried asking about the man on the cliff, but I already knew he was dead.  If only I hadn’t screwed up and fallen, he might still be alive.  Roy wouldn’t have gotten hurt.  “Roy…”  God it was hard to get that one word out.  Something is squeezing all the air out of my chest.

Bump…head…shoulder…be fine.

Why is Dwyer talking like a bad radio signal?  Or is it me that’s fading in and out?  At least he said Roy’s fine…I think.  I’m sure as hell not fine.  Maybe I should let him know.  “Really…hurts…”  It sounds pathetic, I know.  But I can’t help it.  I must have left my shame back on that cliff somewhere.

Charlie looks like he’s in pain himself.  Sorry, Johnny.  We can’t give you anything with that bump on your head.  Hang in there.

Hang in there?  Easy for you to say.  I’ll never tell a patient to hang in there again.  Just when I feel about ready to succumb to my misery, I feel something brush the back of my hand.  At first I think it’s my imagination, but there it is again.  I move my fingers in response and somehow I know it’s Roy.  I turn my hand over and grab onto his and immediately I feel like I can make it through this, if only he doesn’t let go again.  My stomach does a flip as the copter dips and we lose contact briefly.  I grope frantically until Roy’s hand once again closes around my own.  And I cling to it until we are on the ground.

zzz

As soon as the copter landed, it was descended upon by two teams of orderlies pushing litters and Doctors Brackett and Early.  Johnny’s stokes was nearest to the door of the aircraft, so he was moved first.  He became visibly agitated when he lost contact with his partner.   “Roy…Roy!”

Brackett ignored his patient’s mumbled cries for the time being as he grilled Dwyer for information.  “How was he on the way in?”

“In and out.  In a lot of pain.  Agitated.  He calmed down considerably once he grabbed onto Roy’s hand.”

Brackett took a minute to listen to Johnny’s chest and look over the splinted extremities.  “Johnny, can you hear me?”

Johnny mumbled incoherently without opening his eyes.

“Let’s get him inside.”  Brackett allowed himself a quick glance at Roy who was under Joe Early’s care.

“How are you feeling, Roy?”  The kindly neurosurgeon checked Roy’s pupils with his penlight.

“Shoulder hurts like hell.  Other than that, not too bad.  But, Johnny…”

“Is with Kel.  He’ll take good care of him, Roy.  You know that.  Now, what do you say we get you taken care of?”  At Roy’s nod of submission, Joe motioned for the orderlies to move.

zzz

I have the sensation of moving.  Cool air passes over my face until finally the movement stops and I hear the familiar sounds of an elevator.  A deep voice…Brackett…barks at me to open my eyes.  I really don’t want to, but he’s insistent.  I pull them open and wince at the bright lights above me.

There you are.  How are you feeling, Johnny?

Is he kidding?  How am I feeling?  How the hell does it look like I’m feeling?  I close my eyes, and right then, a spasm charges through my left leg and I let the resulting moan tell the doctor all he needs to know.

A pat on my hand.  Okay, Johnny.  We’ll get you something for the pain just as soon as we can get some pictures.  Hang in there.

Again with the ‘hang in there.’  When all of this is over, remind me to tell everyone how maddening that sentiment is when every nerve ending in your body feels like it’s on fire.  Suddenly, I’m moving again and I hear a comforting voice.  Dixie.  She directs us to a treatment room.  White light explodes behind my eyelids as I’m transferred onto the table and I’m embarrassed by the expletives coming out of my mouth.  I can hear Brackett again, bellowing out orders for a million tests I never thought I would be on the receiving end of.  A foley?  Oh, man…anything but that.  It seems like hands are everywhere.  And everywhere they’re causing more pain.  Funny…I can free climb up a sheer rock face with no fear…okay, so maybe there was a little fear…but nothing compared to what I’m feeling right now.  My heart feels like it might pound out of my chest and I’m breathless.  My neck and back feel fine.  I wish they would sit me up a little.  “Ahhh!”  Shit, that hurt!  What the hell…it felt like someone jabbed a knife into my wrist.  I focus on the hand in my hair, and the soothing voice I know is on the other end of it.  I try to allow the comfortingly familiar scent of her perfume to lull me away from everything else going on.  Kel wanted an arterial blood gas, Johnny.  It’s all done…

I could almost fall asleep to the sound of that voice, but Brackett snaps me awake.  It’s really getting irritating.  He either needs to give me something for this pain, or leave me alone.  How does he expect me to answer all of these questions?  Yes, I can move my fingers and wiggle my toes…yes, it hurts when you do that…yes, I can feel that…Let’s try something. “Doc…my leg is…killing me.”  There. I hope that’s enough to get him to move this along a little faster.

Five milligrams MS IV.  He may have a mild concussion, but we can monitor him now.  He’s probably got a pneumothorax.  I don’t want to depress his respiratory status too much until I get a chance to see his chest films.

Thank god!  Wait…did he say five milligrams?  God, I hope that’s enough.  Dammit, when did they take my clothes?  I don’t even remember!  I open my eyes and the bright lights of the treatment room assault every sense.  “Dix?”

What do you need, Tiger?

Tiger?  Why is she calling me that?  Never mind, coming from Dixie, I kinda like it.  This sheet isn’t cutting it, but I don’t have the strength to tell her that.  “Cold…”

A soft hand caresses my good shoulder.  I’ll get you a blanket.  And the comforting scent disappears, taking any warmth I may have been feeling along with it.  The pain seems a little better now…maybe.  I can’t really tell, and I get so preoccupied thinking about it, I almost drift off.  That is, until Brackett starts in again with his questions.  At least he’s not barking anymore.  I feel light pressure over my limbs and blessed warmth envelops me.  Oh, Dix…you’re a saint.  A blanket from the warmer.  Remind me to buy you dinner at the Velvet Slipper when I get out of here.  Okay, maybe not the Velvet Slipper.  Not on my salary.  I feel a little better now about squeezing Brackett’s hands and following his finger with my eyes.  I must be doing all right, because he smiles at me.  When a patient is really mucked up, believe me, he hardly ever smiles.  Of course…maybe he’s just trying to keep me from worrying.  Well, too late for that.  Speaking of worrying…where’s Roy?  I open my eyes and look around, but no one is standing near me.  I hear Brackett talking to someone…

…Skull, chest, and spinal series.  Left shoulder and humerus.  Pelvis, left femur and tibia…

Man, I’m gonna be here until Christmas getting all of those films… and shit, they’re gonna have to move me.  I wonder if Brackett will give me some more MS before they do this.  Probably not.  There’s that perfume again.  Funny, I never realized how much it smells like roses before.  “Dix...where’s…Roy?”

Hands are back in my hair.  Man, I wish she’d keep doing that.  He’s across the hall with Joe.  He’s fine.  But, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll go check on him while they’re getting your films.

Yeah.  That would make me feel a lot better.  “Thanks…”  I’m getting really sleepy now and I feel like I’m floating.  I also feel like I could barf.  It must be the morphine.  Then I hear a voice that almost makes the barfing a reality.  I just finished up, Kel.  Joe said you might need some help.  Morton.  Can this day get any worse?

Let’s go to my office.  I’ll fill you in.  Yes, take him away.  Please.  I’m really not in the mood for him right now.  He’ll probably tell me I fell because I’m too ‘soft.’  Well, how many three hundred pound people has he flung over his back and carried out of a fire?  Johnny, the techs are here to get your Xrays taken care of.  We’ll be right back.  Ok, Brackett.  But you can leave Morton outside.  Someone needs to man the base station, after all.

I’ll go check on Roy.  Hang in there, tiger.  Another ‘hang in there.’  But, somehow it seems sweeter coming from Dixie.  Yeah…I’ll hang in there…what?  You want me to move my arm how?  Shit, this is going to be awful.

zzz

“Roy Desoto.  It’s Friday.  It’s 1976, and I’m at Rampart.  How’s Johnny?”

I don’t know, Roy.  When radiology gets here, I’ll see what I can find out.  Do you remember what happened?

“Johnny and I were free climbing up a cliff.  He lost his grip, I guess, and fell.  I…I couldn’t hold him.”  Oh, God.  It’s my fault.  I should have been paying more attention.  Didn’t he just say if I were leading, and fell, he’d go with me?  He’s twenty pounds lighter than I am.  “I…I should have been able to hold him.”

Early stares at me for a minute before speaking.  Those rope burns on your hands and that dislocated shoulder tell me you tried as hard as you could.  It was an accident, Roy.  Don’t make it more than it was.

Yeah…an accident.  One that should have never happened.  Johnny’s never been hurt this bad before.  His leg is really messed up.  A man’s dead and Johnny might never work again, and it’s my fault.  “Doc, Johnny’s leg…”  My words are cut off as a muscle spasm grips my shoulder.  I never knew I had it in me to curse like this.  It must have made an impression on Early.  Carol, give him twenty five milligrams meperidine.  Roy, I’d give you more, but you were unconscious for several minutes.  I don’t think your concussion is severe, but I’d rather not take any chances until I see the results of your skull series.

I nod my head…in too much pain to speak.  Then, I remember Johnny had a bump on his head too.  And probably a pneumothorax.  I doubt Brackett gave him much, if anything, for pain…and he’s gotta be in agony.  Suddenly, my shoulder doesn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.  I try to suck it up.  I realize I have no idea what time it is.  I look down at where my watch should be, and notice that it’s gone.  “What…time is it?”

Carol looks at her watch after she finishes injecting blessed pain relief into my IV port.  It’s a little after eleven.  Good…it’s not too late.  “I need to call Joanne.”

I’ll take care of that for you.  Dixie.  When did she get here?  But first…there’s one very concerned paramedic in the room across the hall who sent me over here to check on you.  She grasps my hand and smiles.

“I’m fine, Dix.  How’s Johnny?”  Dixie ignores my question for a moment and looks over at Early.  He has a dislocated shoulder.  I won’t know how bad or whether there’s any fracture until I see his X-rays.  He has at least a mild concussion, some bad rope burns on his hands.  But, overall I’d say he was pretty lucky.  Yeah…lucky.  Luckier than Johnny, that’s for sure.  “Dix?”

He’s getting Xrays right now.  Kel gave him a little morphine, and he seemed to be feeling a little better when I left. 

“What about his leg?”

Kel called Dr. Borchardt for a consult.  We’ll know more in a little while.  Kel thinks his arm is broken, and some ribs.  He’s waiting on the chest film to see how bad the pneumo is.  He won’t be moving around too much for a while, which is sure to drive him…AND half the staff around here…crazy.

I try to be relieved that Johnny, although seriously banged up, should be okay.  It really could have been so much worse.  But the thought of my active, animated partner…laid up for months in braces and casts…well, actually…it could be kind of funny in a way.  I smile, despite my worry.  “Yeah…I feel sorry for his nurses already.”  Dixie rubs my forearm.  Well, I’ve got a wife to call.  Do you want me to tell Joanne to come down?

“No…I don’t want her waking up the kids and dragging them down here.  Tell her I’m fine.  I’ll probably be getting out of here in the morning.”  My presumption brings a comment from Early.  Not so fast, Roy.  We don’t know yet that that shoulder doesn’t need surgery.  And, there’s your head injury to think about.  You won’t be going home in the morning.  I lean my head back against the pillow.  Surgery.  I hadn’t even considered that possibility.  I look up at the sound of a portable Xray unit being pushed through the door.  Dixie gives my forearm a final pat.  I’m going to go make that call, and then I need to get back to that partner of yours.  I’ll check on you later.

“Thanks, Dix.”  I’m minutely aware of Early telling the techs what he needs, but my mind is on Johnny.  How many times does this make now that I haven’t been there when he’s needed me?  It seems like every time I get injured on the job, no matter how minor, he’s right there… hovering over the exam table…practically in the doctor’s way.  Then there was the time I had tonsillitis.  He hounded me for days until I finally gave in and let Early check me out.  But, yet…when he gets hurt, I’m either not there…like when he was bitten by that snake…or I give him a hard time about it later.  Well, okay.  Maybe not every time.  But, he’s never done that to me.  And now he needs someone like never before.  And it’s not like he has a wife or a family to be here for him.  Dammit…I hope they at least let me see him soon.

zzz

Mr. Gage?  Do you remember me?  I’m Dr. Borchardt.  I took care of your leg when you fractured it last year.  I think it was the result of a gas explosion and a fall down some stairs.

Doctor…who?  Oh yeah, Borchardt.  I remember.  He’s the one who put me in that torturous traction device for six weeks.  Is this the same leg I broke that time?  Yeah…I think it is.  Damn.  “Yeah…”

I had a chance to go over your X-rays.  You have a proximal humerus fracture that’s stable.  I can realign that and immobilize your shoulder.  It should heal well on its own.  Your leg is a bit more complicated.

Why don’t you tell me something I don’t already know?  I feel like I broke every bone in it.  Maybe I did.  “Hurts like…hell.”

Borchardt chuckles.  I’m glad he thinks this is funny.  I’m sure it does.  You have a mid shaft femur fracture that’s displaced.  Also, you have an open fracture of your tibia and a displaced fibula fracture.  This combination of fractures causes a condition we refer to as a ‘floating knee.’  You see, your knee joint is basically a flail segment right now.  He stops talking for a minute, I guess to allow me time to digest what I’ve just been told.  How exactly do I do that?  At the very least, I’m gonna be laid up for a very long time.  At worst…well, I don’t want to think about that.  The leg fractures are going to need to be stabilized surgically.  I’ll place intramedullary rods and nails to hold them in place.  You should be able to do some gentle range of motion and light weight bearing in just a few days.  That is, if Dr. Brackett allows it, with your other injuries.

Oh, man.  “Surgery?”  Suddenly I feel my entire mouth go dry.  It’s hard to swallow.  I’ve managed to live thirty years without ever having surgery and I really don’t want to start now.  Brackett must realize I’ve suddenly gone pale, because he steps up to the side of the bed and uses his ‘calming’ tone.  Everything will be fine, Johnny.  Brent is one of the best orthopedic surgeons in L.A.  You’re in good hands.  I try to swallow what feels like a wad of cotton.  “When?”  I expect Borchardt to answer, but Brackett does instead.  Right away, Johnny.  Your skull series was negative.  You may have a mild concussion, but there’s no fracture, no evidence of swelling or a bleed.  You’ve fractured your 3^rd through your 6^th ribs, and one of them managed to puncture your lung.  Your chest X-ray shows a twenty percent pneumothorax which we’re going to monitor.  There’s a good chance it will resolve on its own…I only hear about half of what Brackett is telling me.  “Now?”

Yes, John.  Borchardt.  Right now.  The longer we wait, the greater the chance of complications.  He looks at my chart and then gives some orders to Dixie, who just walked into the room.  Something about antibiotics and a tetanus shot.  My mind is too busy swimming to care.  She takes a minute to gather the supplies she needs and is back at my side.  She smiles at me as she hangs an IV bag on the pole beside me.  Roy’s fine.  X-ray’s with him right now.  He’s got a dislocated shoulder and probably a concussion.  But, he’s asking about you.  And apparently feeling well enough that he thinks we should let him go home in the morning.

“That’s good.”  I watch as she completes her assigned tasks, grateful that she’s aware of my distaste for needles and tries her best to be quick and painless.  I thank her and Brackett for raising the head of the bed a bit.  It seems a little easier to breathe now.  But, my stomach twists in anxiety.  I wait until Brackett leaves the room and I’m alone with Dixie.  “I don’t…want to have…surgery.”  Dixie holds onto my hand and brushes the hair off my forehead.  No one does.  But, you’re going to do fine.  And I promise I’ll be there when you wake up.  Okay?  Before I can say okay an annoying sound pierces the air.

Good evening, Gage.  I hear you’re heading up to surgery in a few minutes.  I’m here to check some things out before you go…Morton.  What the hell does he need to check out?  It’s bad enough that I’m going to surgery.  I realize he needs his practice, but why does he need to practice on me?  Surely there’s a whole hospital full of patients he could annoy.  Thankfully Dixie stays at my side as Morton does what he came to do.  Maybe it’s the medications they’re giving me…or the stress of trauma…or the fact that I’ve just been told I’m having nails and rods put into my leg in the next hour or so…but I suddenly break into a cold sweat and instead of having a dry mouth, I’m swallowing down saliva.  Dixie is the first to notice something is wrong.  Way to observe your patient there, Doc.  Johnny?  Are you okay?  It happens before I have a chance to answer…so quickly I can’t even prepare.  I lurch forward as my stomach contracts and I lose the contents of my stomach all over Morton’s freshly pressed green scrubs.  Why does he wear those around the ER all the time anyway?  I try to focus through the intense pain this has caused in my ribs and grab onto Dixie’s voice until eventually the sparkles that are exploding behind my clenched eyelids dissipate and I can breathe again.  I open my eyes and look at Morton, who’s doing his best to clean himself up.  “Sorry…man…”  I allow Dixie to help me rinse out my mouth and I relax against my pillow as she runs a cool cloth over my face, the look on Morton’s face as I tossed my cookies all over him fresh in my mind.  Maybe this night’s not so bad after all.

zzz

I look up at the white figure entering my room.  I’m so groggy.  I feel like I could sleep for a week.  At least my shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore.  That extra meperidine and the muscle relaxant they gave me before they popped it back into place are doing their jobs.  “Hi, Dixie.”

They’re getting ready to take Johnny up to surgery.

Surgery.  My mind stays locked on that word.  I was so relieved that I didn’t have to make a trip to the OR that I never gave thought to whether Johnny might end up there…although I suppose I knew he would ever since I got a good look at that leg.  Maybe I figured if I didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t come true.  Gosh, he’ll never admit it, but I bet he’s scared to death.  I don’t think he’s ever had surgery before.  And, he’s gotta be thinking about what this injury will do to his career.  “Surgery.  His leg?”

He’s got a tib/fib fracture along with a fractured femur…a floating knee, Dr. Borchardt called it.  He needs to stabilize it with rods and nails.  The good news is, once it’s done, Johnny should be up and around within a week or two.

“Wow.  Really…Dix, how bad is it?  I mean…will he…”

Roy, I think we need to take things one step at a time.  But, to be honest…I was concerned too.  So, I cornered Borchardt out in the hall and I made him tell me what he thought.  He said he’s had several patients with this same type of injury, and all but one of them regained full function.  The odds are Johnny will have no problem returning to work, so try not to worry.

I can tell by the tone of Dixie’s voice that she’s trying to convince herself along with me.  But, really, the most important thing is Johnny’s alive.  I think about the man we were there to rescue and a chill flutters down my spine when I remind myself how easily this could have turned out differently.  Still, it seems hard to believe that just a few hours ago we were at the station trying to figure out what call led to our commendations from the chief.  And now…I shake off another chill.  You’d think in my line of work, I would be accustomed to how quickly, easily, and unfairly life can change.  I listen as Dixie fills me in on the rest of Johnny’s injuries.  I wonder about the pneumothorax.  Isn’t it risky to put him on a ventilator?  I remind myself that Brackett knows what he’s doing, and that there’s no one I trust more to do the right thing as far as my partner’s well being is concerned.  Not even myself.  “I need to call the station…let them know what’s going on.”

I already called your captain.  He said he would be over to see both of you as soon as his shift ends in the morning.  The words bring with them some measure of relief.  At least Cap will be here for Johnny later on.  But, what about when he wakes up from surgery?  When I had my tonsils out, they told me he was right there in the recovery room when I came around.  And that wasn’t even that big of a deal, even though I sure made it one.  I promised your partner I would be there when he comes up from the anesthesia.  Dixie pats my hands and smiles.  How does she do that?  Is mind reading part of the nursing curriculum?  I can’t help but smile.  Of course it isn’t.  That’s just Dixie…and part of what makes her one of the best nurses around.  Not to mention one of the best friends.  “Thanks, Dix.  Have they taken him upstairs already?”

Not yet.  He’s still across the hall.  I told them to come get me when they’re ready, so I can go up with him.  She looks at her watch.  Shouldn’t be too much longer.

I realize then that Dixie’s shift probably ended at midnight.  “Dix…do you think I could see him…before they take him up?”  I know it’s a long shot, but I have to try.  Dixie smiles and pats my hand again.  I’ll see what I can do. 

zzz

We’ve just given you a sedative, John.  You’re going to start feeling sleepy.  The orderlies will be here to take you upstairs any time now.  Morton again.  Why is he still here?  “’Kay…”

All of a sudden a feeling of warmth rushes over me and I feel woozy.  Okay, this isn’t sleepy.  This is…well, this is just weird.  It’s like I can still feel pain but I don’t seem to care so much about it anymore.  And when I close my eyes I feel like my head is spinning in crazy circles, like I’m on some demon possessed carnival ride.  My sense of smell seems to be more acute for some odd reason, and the familiar antiseptic aroma of the treatment room makes me nauseous.  But then I notice a friendlier scent.  Roses.  Dixie.  How are you holding up?

I open my mouth, but it takes me three tries before I’m able to make it work.  “Mmmm…feel a little…dizzy.”

That’s the shot they gave you.  It’s normal…nothing to worry about.

But I am worried.  I’m scared to death.  “’Cept…bein’ under the…knife.”  I hear the door opening.  Looks like your ride is here, Johnny.  I hear Brackett giving the orderlies instructions on how to move me and before I even have a chance to prepare for it, I’m being lifted onto the gurney.  I feel like screaming at the pain it causes, but the sound I hear coming out of my mouth is more like a low croak.  My suddenly more observant nose picks up the aroma of aftershave.  I peel open my eyes and see Brackett standing over me.  I never noticed he wore aftershave before.  I wonder what kind it is…I’ll be scrubbing in with Dr. Borchardt, Johnny… Scrubbing in…scrub a dub dub…floating…

I can hear a cacophony of sound.  Voices…buzzing in my ears…everything is too loud…then all of a sudden, it’s quiet again.  Almost.  Hey, Johnny.  Is that…no it can’t be…I’m dreaming…floating… “Mmm?”

Can you open your eyes and look here a minute?  Open…open open open…open sesame…sesame seeds…sesame street… Johnny, look at me. Look…I open my eyes and turn my head slightly to the side.  The face looking back at me is a little fuzzy around the edges, but the smile is unmistakable.  “Rroy..?” 

Yeah, it’s me.  I wanted to see you before you go upstairs, so I could wish you luck.  Not that you’ll need it with Borchardt and Brackett taking care of things.  For some reason Roy’s words, while meant to comfort, snap me out of my loopy trippy state and remind me to be afraid.  At least he seems to be okay…I’m glad for that.  I want to tell him, but all that comes out is… “Roy…”

You know, if you wanted a vacation, all you had to do was talk to Cap about it.  I force what I hope looks something like a smile.  “Look who’s…talking…Pally.”  A squeeze on my hand...slightly tainted by the soft, prickly feel of gauze…but as powerful as mother nature on steroids.  I cling to my partner…my best friend…my lifeline. 

We need to get him upstairs now.  A final reassuring squeeze and then just like that, the connection is severed.  And I feel like I’m adrift in an endless sea.  I must have blacked out for a bit, because I open my eyes only to close them abruptly after being assaulted by a series of bright orbs above me.  I hear voices I don’t recognize behind my head.  I’m freezing.  I try to move my right arm, but something is holding it down.  I start to panic.

Try to relax, Mr. Gage.  Who the hell is that?  Take some deep breaths and count backwards from 100.  Damn it!  Get this mask off of me!  I don’t want to do this!  I don’t want—

Floating.

Darkness.

zzz

Mr. Desoto, you need to get some sleep.  I try not to be annoyed at Paula.  After all, the young nurse is only doing her job.  I could tell her that I’d prefer to stay awake until I get some news on Johnny, but then she would think I’m sitting here worrying about him and would probably get a doctor to put me out for the rest of the night.  And besides, I’m not worried.  There’s nothing wrong with a little healthy concern for your partner’s well being.  And Johnny’s not the only thing on my mind.  I can’t stop thinking about the rock climber we were supposed to rescue.  And, then there’s that commendation Johnny and I received from the chief this morning.  I hardly feel deserving of it now…kind of hard to feel like you deserve kudos when you let a civilian die and fail to keep your partner from possible life changing injury…all on the same night.  I better play my cards right, though, or Paula will have me drugged.  And Dixie promised to let me know when Johnny’s out of surgery.  “I know.  I’ve just had some trouble settling, I guess.  I’m really tired now, though.  I think I’ll be able to fall asleep now.”

Paula takes my pulse and offers a dubious smile.  Are you sure you don’t need something to help you relax?

“No…no, I’m fine.  Thanks anyway.”  The truth is the pain medication they gave me earlier in the ER is wearing off, and my shoulder is starting to really throb.  But, I can hold out until I know about Johnny.  It shouldn’t be too much longer now.

Okay…if you say so.  Hit the call button if you can’t get to sleep.  Pauline makes sure the button is within easy reach before adjusting my covers and making her exit.  I hear her talking to someone just outside my door.  Dixie.  Good.  I strain to hear, but I can’t make out the conversation.  A moment later, my door opens, and I’m greeted by a familiar smile.

How are you feeling?  And don’t lie to me, Roy Desoto, because I already know you’re in pain and trying to hide it.  How does she do that?  I sigh.  “My shoulder hurts a little.  Have you heard anything about Johnny?  Is he out of surgery?”

Dixie starts adjusting the pillows supporting my shoulder.  Not yet.  I was just down there, and they think it’s going to take another hour at least.  So, why don’t you get some rest until then?

“Dix, I…”  That wasn’t a suggestion, Roy.  Besides, I promise I’ll wake you as soon as he’s in recovery.  I study Dixie’s face.  I’ve never known her to lie to me, but then I’ve never really put her in a position where lying would be of benefit.  My eyelids feel as though they want to close of their own accord, so I decide to trust her.  “Okay, Dix.  But, you promise to…”

I promise.  Now, get some sleep.  I lean my head back against my pillows and close my eyes, my last thought before succumbing to darkness is that sleep will not come easily.

zzz

John…John Gage.  Time to wake up. 

Strange sounds and smells…swirling…

Come on, John.  Open your eyes for me.

What…who…where am I?  Something pinches my fingertip.  When I try to protest, I discover I have a really bad taste in my mouth.  My throat is so sore it feels raw. 

Open your eyes, John.

I’m trying…but sleep is pulling me under.  Finally, I look up through watery slits.  Blurry…head hurts…sick…

Your surgery went well.  I was able to repair the fractures.  We can talk more about it later.  Just rest now.

Rest?  But, he just told me to wake up.  I move my tongue over my lips.  “Thirsty…”  The raspy sound of my voice and the pain that one word produces in my vocal chords scares me.  Something cold touches my lips and at the same time…the aroma of roses.  Then a familiar, soft voice.  Here, Tiger.  It’s an ice chip.  Easy now…I allow the ice to melt in my mouth and soothe my irritated throat while the hand on my forehead begins to soothe away my anxiety.  And then it all starts coming back.  Dixie said she would be here when I woke up…oh, man it’s true.  I really did have surgery.  Guess I must have survived, but man, I really feel like crap.  A flush of warmth and then I gag on the ice sliver.  The soft, soothing voice remains unchanged despite words of concern.  Johnny, do you feel like you’re going to be sick?  Yeah…maybe…maybe not. “No…just really…nauseous.”

Gentle fingers smooth my damp hair out of my eyes.  Let me see if we can get you something for that.  The fingers are gone and Dixie turns away.  I want to shout at her to wait.  There’s something more.  It’s as if each sense is returning one by one.  I manage to croak out, “Dix?”

Hmm?

“Can…can you…see if I can…have something for…for pain?”  I despise how desperate I sound, but I’m really hurting here.  It’s incredible.  It’s almost as if pain has taken on a life all its own and could swallow me up right here and now.  So much for my tough guy image, not that I think Dixie ever bought it for a second anyway.  She smiles and ruffles my hair.  No one’s done that since mama died.  I’ll be right back.  I close my eyes and try to focus on the beeping I recognize as a heart monitor.  A fraction of a second later, I realize it’s probably attached to me.  I will the beeps to slow down.  Slow…down…

Oh, god no…all of a sudden nausea gives way to the unmistakable taste of bile.  My stomach spasms and my whole world narrows to unbelievable misery.  Urgent voices intermingle with ones meant to calm.  And a few seconds later pain lets go of me and begins to drift away.

Floating…

Sleep.

zzz

Roy?  Roy…

Who dares to pull me out of this blissful sleep?  I clench my eyes shut and do my best to ignore the voice and the gentle tapping on my arm.

Roy…

Silently cursing this person’s persistence, I open my eyes to see what she wants.  I immediately feel sorry.  “Dix…”

Shhh…keep your voice down.  If word gets around that I snuck in here off duty and woke up a patient…on purpose…well, it’ll be the scandal of the year.

I smile at Dixie’s feigned discretion, surprised she didn’t don a pair of dark glasses and a trench coat for the occasion.  The mere fact that she’s joking is a good sign.  “Johnny…is he okay?”  Dixie takes a step back and is quiet for a second.  My stomach churns.  I know she’ll be honest with me, but right now, I’m not sure honesty is what I want to hear.

Johnny started hemorrhaging from his popliteal artery during the surgery.  They were able to get it clamped off, but not before his blood pressure dipped low enough to cause some PVC’s.  Kel said it took a while to stabilize him, but he’s fine, Roy.

My heart starts beating again.  I breathe a sigh of relief.

They’re replacing the blood he lost, and they’ll keep him in recovery until his pressure comes up.  He was pretty nauseous and he vomited a little.  Borchardt thinks it’s a reaction to the anesthesia.  He’s given him some phenergan and morphine.  Johnny was sleeping when I left him.

I suppose all things considered, this is good news.  I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting.  I mean, Johnny wasn’t going to just come out of this surgery ready to run the 440.  Having surgery is a pretty traumatic experience, even under the best of circumstances.  “What did Borchardt have to say about his leg?”

I think I can answer that question...after I ask a certain nurse what’s she’s doing waking you up in the middle of the night.  The unmistakable voice of Kelly Brackett grabs my attention, making me feel like the kid who got caught passing notes in class.  But, Dixie is unfazed.

Which brings me to wonder what you’re doing here, Kel.  After all, Roy’s not your patient.  She smiles craftily.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear Brackett was blushing!  Okay…you caught me.  Borchardt seems to think Johnny’s leg will heal just fine.  He won’t be doing any rock climbing for oh…say, six months or so.  But, he thinks there’s an excellent chance Johnny will be able to return to firefighting.

Relief washes over me like a monsoon.  “Doc, what about his lung?”

It’s fine, Roy.  We just did another chest X-ray and the pneumothorax hasn’t increased in size.  We’ll keep Johnny in ICU until it resolves so we can watch him closely.  Brackett pauses for a moment and gives my foot a pat.  He’s doing well, Roy.  Now, get some sleep before Joe comes in here and has my hide.

I adjust my position, and pain shoots down my shoulder into my arm.  A hiss escapes my lips reminding me of a deflating tire.  Suddenly my friends are all business.  Brackett flips open my chart.  You’re due for some meperidine, Roy.  I’ll let your nurse know on my way out. 

“Okay…thanks…”  I’m grateful that Dixie waits with me until my nurse comes in and administers my pain medication.  Within seconds, I feel my eyes beginning to close of their own accord.  Get some rest, Roy, and I’ll see if I can sneak you down to Johnny’s room tomorrow afternoon for a visit.  Good night.

Dixie’s footsteps fade and I relax against my pillows.  At least Johnny’s going to be okay, I tell myself.  But for some reason, I still feel uneasy.  I can’t explain it.  It’s as if I shouldn’t let my guard down just yet.  Still, I drift off holding onto hope as thoughts creep back uninvited.  Thoughts of a man we weren’t able to save and a commendation I don’t feel I deserve.  And worst of all…the thought of how very close I came to losing one of the most important things in my life.

zzz

I wake up disoriented.  But, only for a moment as the soft bleeps of the cardiac monitor beside my bed and the faint hissing of oxygen remind me where I am.  ICU.  Never thought I would end up here.  It just never even occurred to me.  Yet, here I am…connected to just about every piece of medical equipment they could find.  Okay, well maybe not every piece.  And just like the last time, I wake up to pain…my entire left side throbs with an ache so deep I can feel it in my teeth.  Without opening my eyes, my right hand searches for the call button, and I press it.

Something wrong, pal?

The unexpected voice forces me to open my eyes.  “Cap?”  I don’t know why, but I try to sit up a little straighter.  I guess it just doesn’t seem respectful to be lying down when your captain is present.  Unfortunately, I seem to have temporarily forgotten what a bad idea that would be.  The groan that comes next embarrasses me.  It’s not good to appear weak in front of your superior.  But, Cap doesn’t look or sound anything but concerned.  Not that it should surprise me.

Hey…hey.  Don’t try to move, John.  They’ve got you all trussed up like a mummy here.  Cap always did have a unique way with words.  I’m thankful for the sound of my nurse rushing into the room.  Hopefully she brought some more morphine with her.  I don’t know how much longer I can appear stoic. 

Here you go, Mr. Gage.  This should make you feel better.  The pungent odor of rubbing alcohol appears then dissolves.  And soon, I’m feeling woozy again.  But, at least the pain is gone.  Well, not really gone.  It’s still there, but at least I’ll be able to sleep now and forget about it for another few hours.  A quick check of my vitals, and my nurse…I wonder what her name is…breezes out as quickly as she came.  I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to keep my eyes open, but I try.  For some reason it seems rude to fall asleep when Cap took the trouble to come visit me.  Then it occurs to me that if he came to see me… “Have you seen…Roy?”  Cap almost seems grateful for the question…he was kind of standing there looking like he had no idea what to say to me.

Yes I did.  He was a little groggy from his pain meds, but he’s doing fine.  Dr. Early came in and said he’ll probably be released tomorrow morning.

“Good…thaz…good…”  I can feel the effects of the morphine taking hold now.  As relieved as I am to find out my clumsiness didn’t cause Roy any major injury and that he’s well enough to go home…there’s something else I need to know.  At some point in my clouded memories of the past half day or so, I seem to remember someone telling me the man on the cliff didn’t make it.  Or maybe I’m making that up in my head.  “The vic…the man we were…s’posed to…”  Cap moves closer to the bed and leans on the rail.

The coroner said he was gone as soon as he hit the rocks, John.  There was nothing you or Roy could have done for him.

There’s something about Cap’s expression that seems odd.  It’s like there’s something he’s not telling me, but I can’t tell exactly what.  I know he wouldn’t lie to me though, so I try to take comfort in his words.  I wish I could visit longer.  There are a million things I want to talk about, but I’m fading here.

Get some rest, John.  And try not to worry about anything.  Just rest, and get better. I’ll be back to see you tomorrow.

 Cap is smiling at me.  I smile back.  At least I think I do. 

Can’t…keep…my…eyes…open…any...

 Floating.

Peace.

zzz

Later that afternoon, Johnny lay staring at the ceiling.  Being in the hospital, particularly the ICU, just didn’t seem to be agreeing with him.  The morphine he was being given dulled his pain, but it didn’t take it completely away.  And every time Johnny tried to move or change position, the drug would angrily remind him of its limitations.  He was so exhausted even his bone marrow felt sluggish, yet he couldn’t sleep.  Between the constant light and noise and the neverending parade of nurses and techs and doctors…and his own anxieties…when sleep did come, it was restless and short-lived.  And to make matters worse, Johnny was nauseous and had vomited on two occasions.  And each time, he had been subjected to more X-rays and tests to make sure the vomiting hadn’t worsened his lung injury.  Borchardt seemed to think the anesthesia wasn’t agreeing with his patient, and had prescribed phenergan, which helped, but only temporarily.  It also made Johnny feel dizzy.  All in all, Johnny felt miserable.  And since he had nothing but time, he continued to stare at the tiles above his head, thinking.  Thinking about Roy and how he had nearly killed him…thinking about how long he was going to be laid up…thinking about the commendation from the chief and how it had been everyone’s sole focus yesterday, and how unimportant and insignificant it seemed now.  And all the while he kept trying to ignore the one persistent thought that kept making his stomach roil…the fact that the climb up the cliff quite possibly might have been his last rescue.

Johnny’s stewing was interrupted by a kind voice from the doorway.  Dixie had been in to see him earlier, and was concerned.  Of course Johnny had tried to put up a good front, but the seasoned nurse could see right through it.  She was concerned about his state of mind and had mentioned it to Kel, who was quick to remind her that everything Johnny was dealing with was perfectly normal, and that those rules did not change simply because the patient was John Gage.  Still, Dixie felt some cheering up was in order, and she knew just the person who could do it.  “Johnny, I brought someone with me who wants to see you.”

Roy Desoto sat in his wheelchair taking in the appearance of his best friend.  He swallowed down his own anxieties and wiped his sweating palms on his pajama pants.  Johnny was positioned at a 45 degree angle.  The green tubing of a nasal cannula stood out prominently against his ghostly pale skin, and there was a white bandage on his forehead.  Two IV’s dripped into his right arm, and the left one was secured in an immobilizer which also wrapped around his torso.  Pillows supported his shoulder.  The heart monitor by the bed beeped a steady, mesmerizing cadence, and a collection bag a quarter full of amber liquid hung from the lowest bed rail.  Johnny’s left leg was partially uncovered and was also supported by pillows.  Roy cringed at the sight of the discoloration the initial trauma and the resulting surgery left behind.  A soft, adjustable brace extended from thigh to ankle, and two ice packs rested on top.  Thick dressings covered his incisions.  But probably most troubling were Johnny’s eyes, completely devoid of their usual spark.  Instead, they looked dull and glassy, a side effect of his medications, Roy knew, but no…it was more than that.  Seeing Johnny’s normally animated face completely lacking expression was almost frightening.  “Hi, Johnny.”

The sound of his best friend’s voice pulled Johnny from his trance.  He turned his head to the side and when his gaze settled on Roy’s smiling face, the action seemed to pull the corners of his own mouth into a weak rendition of his famous grin.  Roy looked a little worse for the wear with his arm in a sling and abrasions on his face.  “Hey, partner.”

No words were spoken for a few seconds, but Dixie could sense the silent communication that was taking place.  It was as if each man was silently apologizing for their part in the accident while simultaneously acknowledging the other’s innocence.  She almost spoke up against the macho posturing which prevented them from expressing their true feelings to one another, but thought better of it.  Better to leave them to work this out in their own way.  She pushed Roy’s wheelchair closer to the bed.  “I’m going to go and let you two visit for a bit.  If either of you need anything, hit the call button.”

The men offered their thanks and sat together without speaking for a while.  Finally, Roy asked the inevitable question.  “How are you feeling?”

Johnny closed his eyes and reopened them.  “Tired.”

“Well, then go ahead and sleep.  You need your rest.”

Johnny sighed.  “That’s just it, Roy.  I can’t.”

Roy’s hand immediately moved toward the call button.  “Are you in pain?  Let’s call your nurse…”

Johnny reached over and stopped Roy’s hand with a weak touch from his own.  “No…it’s not that.  I mean…the pain’s not that bad right now.  It’s hard to sleep in here, Roy…what with everyone coming in all the time.  And…and…well, I keep thinkin’.”

“About what?”  Roy was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“I don’t know…just…stuff.”  Johnny looked into the kind eyes of his partner and found understanding there.

“Yeah…I know.  Wanna talk about it?”

Johnny looked away.  “Not really…I just…”  Then, he closed his eyes as if he were trying to block out an unpleasant sensation.

Roy grabbed onto Johnny’s hand, his voice rising in pitch.  “Johnny?  Are you okay?”

After a few uncertain seconds, Johnny let out his breath but he did not open his eyes.  “Yeah…yeah…It’s just…Roy, I screwed up.  I should have never tried to climb up that part of that wall.  It was too steep.  I should have said something, but I didn’t.”  He opened his eyes and stared wearily at Roy, his eyes full of remorse.  “And…I could have…”

Roy stopped Johnny mid sentence, partly because he already knew what he was feeling and wanted to spare him from having to say it, and partly because the effort of talking was leaving his partner practically gasping for breath.  “But you didn’t.”  Before Johnny could have a chance to start up again, Roy continued.  “Believe me, I’ve been thinking too.  I should have been paying better attention, should have had a better grip on the ropes.  I should have been able to catch you…”

“Roy…”  Now Johnny had something else to think about.  Guilt over his partner’s guilt.

“But after I talked to Cap, I realized there was nothing either of us did wrong.  It was an accident, Johnny.”  Roy squeezed Johnny’s hand and waited until he was looking at him.  “Let’s just be thankful we’re both still here, okay?”  What Roy chose not to share was the feeling he got when he was talking to their captain that he was carrying some guilt of his own.

“Yeah…okay…”  Johnny’s eyes drifted away as though he were distracted by something.  Roy tried to tell himself that he shouldn’t expect much from him right now.  After all, people who were hospitalized, particularly ones who faced long recoveries, often became depressed.  And Johnny was typically so active.  Just lying still had to be torture for him.  Add to that the pain from his injuries, and Dixie said he’d been getting sick…

“Everything’s gonna be okay, Johnny.  I know you’re feeling pretty awful right now…”

Johnny turned his head to face his partner, his expression suddenly very thoughtful and serious.  “Roy…we take risks every day.  And I guess it’s always been at the back of my mind…the possibility that something could happen…”

Johnny didn’t look good, and Roy didn’t like the way he was breathing.  “Johnny, you should try to rest right now.  We can talk about this later.”

“But…I just always thought…that if something were to ever happen…well, that I would be gone.  It just never occurred to me that…I could be lying here one day wondering if I would ever be a fireman again.”

Roy swallowed his own fears as Johnny’s came to the surface.  The thought of spending the rest of his career with someone else next to him in the squad was almost as bad as what Johnny was going through.  “But, Dr. Borchardt said he thinks you have an excellent chance.”

“Yeah…I know what he said.  But, what if I can’t, Roy?”

Silence hung heavy in the room as Johnny’s question remained unanswered.  Finally, Roy spoke up.  “Well, if I know you…you’re going to be back at the station in no time, driving Chet crazy.”

“And even if I can…he said it will be at least six months.  Six months, Roy!  Do you have any idea how long that is?”

Roy couldn’t help but smile.  Although somewhat breathless and strained, Johnny was doing a fair job at one of his classic rants.  “Uh…it’s about 180 days…180 days you’ll have to think of ways to get the Phantom back for all the pranks he’s played on you for the past five years.”

Johnny’s expression brightened slightly.  “Hey, yeah…Roy, do you think…”  As quickly as his eyes had brightened, they began brimming with dread.  “Oh no…”  His right hand moved to his stomach.

Roy noticed his partner looking a little green.  “What’s wrong, Johnny?  Feeling sick again?”

Johnny nodded and both men looked up at the blond man in pale blue scrubs who breezed into the room.  “Hey, John.  That ice has been on twenty minutes.  It’s time to…”

Roy looked up at the man who he figured must be Johnny’s physical therapist and could see that he also noticed something amiss.  “Get the nurse, would you?”  The blue scrubbed man nodded and left quickly.

Roy turned his attention back to his partner.  “Take some deep breaths, Johnny.  In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Johnny looked over at his partner, his eyes pleading.  “I…can’t…”  And just like that, his stomach rebelled violently and cruelly, without any regard for the pain it was causing everywhere else.  Roy tried to stand up in order to support his suffering friend, but a sudden dizzy spell kept him bolted in his seat.  The last thing Johnny needed right now was to see him fall on the floor.  He was relieved to see the nurse enter hurriedly.

“Oh, John…not again.”  The nurse’s voice was not annoyed, but rather it overflowed with empathy toward her struggling patient.  She cast a frustrated look in Roy’s direction.  “This makes the third time since this morning.”  She reached over and hit the call button, summoning another nurse who she told to have Dr.’s Borchardt and Brackett paged, all the while doing what she could to ease Johnny’s distress. 

Roy watched from his chair, unhappy that he couldn’t do anything to help, until finally this latest bout passed and Johnny was being settled back against his pillows, his breaths coming in short, ragged pants interspersed with weak moans.  Roy began to feel ill himself at the thought of how painful these episodes had to be for Johnny, and he had to look away at the sight of the drop of moisture that tracked from the corner of his friend’s eye toward his ear.  A sympathetic yet authoritative voice brought his eyes forward again.

“Again?”  The nurse nodded. Borchardt moved to Johnny’s side.  “Still feeling nauseous, I see.”

Johnny didn’t answer, afraid that if he opened his mouth he would start again.

The nurse looked up from her task of removing Johnny’s soiled linens.  “This is his third bout of vomiting since he’s been in ICU.  And every time, it’s happened within thirty minutes of when I administered his morphine.”  Her voice hinted at a possible solution, but she was not bold enough to tell the doctor outright what she suspected.

Borchardt scanned Johnny’s chart.  “Hmmm…it was the same in recovery this morning.  And last night in the ER.  Maybe he’s developed an allergy.  Next time he’s due for his meds, let’s try Demerol instead.  Fifty milligrams to start, increasing in twenty five milligram implements up to one fifty as needed.”  He patted his patient’s good shoulder.  “Hang in there, John.  I think we may have this figured out.  We’ll see if changing your medication makes the difference.”

Johnny was too exhausted to do anything but nod.

Brackett entered the room next and Borchardt filled him in.  He quickly issued orders to Johnny’s nurse for another chest X-ray and an arterial blood gas.  Then, he pulled out his stethoscope and listened to Johnny’s lungs.  Straightening, he stuffed the instrument back into his pocket and leaned on the bed rail.  “Any increased trouble breathing, Johnny?”

Johnny shook his head.  “No.”

“Any new pain?”

Again, Johnny shook his head.  “No, Doc…but my ribs sure hurt.”

The doctor’s face twitched in empathy.  “I’m sure they do.  Your lung sounds on the left haven’t decreased.  Still, we’ll get another chest film and an ABG.  I’m going to place an NG tube…”

Johnny became agitated at that idea.  “No, Doc…please…”

Brackett stood up and crossed his arms.  “Johnny, I’m concerned this vomiting is going to worsen that pneumothorax and cause your lung to collapse.  An NG tube will keep your stomach decompressed and prevent you from becoming sick again.  Any nausea you still experience can be controlled with phenergan or compazine.”

Roy sensed his partner’s distress and who could blame him?  After everything Johnny had been through, now Brackett wanted to force a tube down his throat through his nose?  Even though the paramedic fully understood the reasoning behind it, he had a hunch Johnny was having trouble focusing on that at the moment.  “Doc…couldn’t we wait until we see if the Demerol solves the problem?”

“And if it doesn’t?”  Brackett understood Roy’s concern, but he also knew he would want what was best for Johnny.

Johnny sighed in resignation as he looked over at Roy with weary gratitude in his eyes.  “Go ahead, Doc.  Just get it over with.”

Brackett smiled and squeezed Johnny’s hand.  “Okay, Johnny.”  Looking over at the nurse, he asked her to assemble the necessary supplies after she had Dixie paged.  “Roy, I’m going to have Dixie take you back to your room first.”  Then, he quickly looked back down at Johnny.  “He can come back to see you later.”

Johnny closed his eyes.  As much as he wanted Roy here, he reminded himself that Roy had been hurt too and needed his rest.

Roy nodded.  He knew the doctor would not want him to be here to watch this procedure, both for Johnny’s benefit and his own.  But, he didn’t want to leave without making Brackett aware of something.  “Doc, I don’t think he’s been sleeping well.”

Brackett looked surprised at this news.  “Johnny?  Is that true?”

Johnny looked down.  “Yeah…it’s just…hard to settle I guess…with all the interruptions…”

Brackett nodded knowingly.  Patients often had difficulty sleeping in ICU, but in light of his earlier conversation with Dixie, he had a feeling more was going on.  “When we’re done here, I’ll order some diazepam to help you relax.  Hopefully then you can get some sleep.”

“Thanks, Doc.”  Johnny closed his eyes, so tired he felt he could drift off right now, but his racing mind wouldn’t allow it.

zzz

It was just after 11 p.m. and Johnny was sleeping.  The Demerol seemed to be easier on his stomach than the morphine and he hadn’t experienced anymore nausea.  Brackett had promised him on his last rounds that if he continued to do well, he would remove the NG tube in the morning in time for Johnny to try a liquid breakfast.  Joanne had brought Roy in earlier, and they promised to stop in again before Roy went home tomorrow.  The combination of new medication and being able to visit with his friends seemed to ease Johnny’s unsettled mind enough to allow him the rest he needed.  He barely stirred during his last few vitals checks.

Johnny was making his way down the long corridor.  Heavy, black smoke seemed to envelop him as he searched for victims inside the burning apartment building, and despite the SCBA he wore, the air felt thick and stifling.  Suddenly Johnny heard an ominous noise and a large beam came crashing down, pinning him to the floor.  A sharp pain erupted in his chest and side seconds before his regulator alarm went off.  He called for help as he struggled with the straps on his mask, desperately hoping Roy was nearby.  The more he tried to loosen the leather straps, the more the mask seemed to latch onto his face.  He was out of air and he was suffocating.  Panicking, Johnny grappled and clawed at the mask…

Johnny awoke with a start, in a cold sweat.  A dream…only a dream.  But then he felt it.  A sharp pain in his chest that got worse with every attempt at inhalation.  And it was then that Johnny knew his dream had been rooted in reality.  He fumbled with the call button, trying not to panic, until he finally got it into a position where he was able to press it.  Less than a minute later, Dora, the night nurse, entered his room and noticing her patient’s distress, moved immediately to his side and quickly began her assessment.  “What’s wrong, John?”

With great difficulty, Johnny managed to choke out, “Can’t…catch my…breath.”

Dora patted his arm.  “I’m going to have Dr. Brackett paged.  I’ll be right back.”  And she was.  After the few seconds required to issue a request to another nurse, she returned to Johnny’s side and replaced his nasal cannula with a mask, turning the flow up to high.  Then, she began gathering vitals. 

zzz

Roy was watching the eleven o’clock news when he heard a page go out for Dr. Brackett.  Then he heard the room number and recognized it as Johnny’s ICU cubicle.  It was a “stat” page, and Roy wondered what could be wrong.  He almost pressed his own call button, but stopped, knowing it would probably be a futile endeavor.  Then he got an idea.  He reached for the phone beside his bed and dialed a familiar number.

Dixie stretched her neck as she stood at the base station.  It had been a long shift and she was ready to go home.  But, when she heard the page go out for Dr. Brackett, she decided to follow him up to Johnny’s room to see what was going on.  She was stopped by the ringing phone.  “Emergency Department, Dixie McCall speaking.”

“Dixie, it’s Roy.”

Dixie sighed and placed a hand to her forehead.  “Roy, I know exactly why you’re calling me, and I was just on my way up there.  I’ll fill you in as soon as I can.”

“Okay, Dix.  Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.  I’ll be there soon.  Now, try not to worry.”  Dixie broke the connection and headed for the elevator, trying hard to follow her own advice.

zzz

Brackett strode into the ICU cubicle wearing jeans and a leather jacket, and without his signature tie.  He had been ready to go home when the page rang out over the intercom.  Noting Johnny’s labored respiratory effort, he had a preliminary diagnosis in mind.  “What are his vitals?”  He moved quickly to the bed and pulled his stethoscope from around his neck.

Dora took a step back.  “His pulse is 130, respirations are 40 and labored.  BP is 90 over 60.  He’s diaphoretic.”

Yeah, no kidding.  Johnny’s hair was plastered to his forehead and his gown was damp.  This gave the doctor a good indication of just how hard his patient had to work to get air into his lungs, as well as the amount of discomfort he was experiencing.  Brackett spoke calmly and quietly as he moved the stethoscope over Johnny’s chest.  “Let’s get a portable chest X-ray and another ABG.”  Finishing his task, he stood up with a frown.  “It’s probably the pneumothorax increasing in size, but I want to rule out a fat embolism or some other problem.”  He looked down at the pair of fearful, brown eyes looking up at him.  Johnny’s right hand was reaching for him, so Brackett intercepted it and held on.

“Hurts…”

Brackett issued another order to Dora without taking his attention off his patient and friend.  “50 milligrams meperidine.”  Then, leaning closer he gave Johnny’s hand a squeeze.  “I know. Don’t worry, Johnny.  We’ll get this taken care of.”

Borchardt entered the room now, having heard the page.  He, too, had been curious.  “Kel?”  He listened as his colleague filled him in and decided to stick around to help.

Brackett was studying the pattern on Johnny’s cardiac monitor when he heard a familiar, and not unexpected, voice behind him.

“Is it his lung, Kel?”  Once Dixie had her answer, she stepped over to the bed and planted a comforting hand on Johnny’s soaked forehead.  “It’s gonna be all right, Johnny.  We’ll get some pictures and then…”  Dixie stopped talking as she noticed Johnny’s increasing struggle to breathe.  His right arm flailed out until his hand found Dixie’s and he grabbed on for dear life, his expression panicked.  “Kel!”  Dixie reluctantly pried her hand loose so she could switch places with the doctor.

Brackett immediately noticed the bulging neck veins and flaring nostrils that he knew were the cause of Dixie’s alarm.  “Damn it, it’s a tension pneumo.  His lung is collapsing.  We can’t wait for radiology.  Dix?  Get me a chest tube tray.”

“Do you want me to cancel the portable?”  Dora asked from the foot of the bed.

“No…we’ll still need films after I place the tube.”  Brackett leaned closer to Johnny’s ear.  “Just hang in there a few more minutes, Johnny.  I know this is frightening, but it’ll be better soon.  I promise.”

Borchardt mentally reviewed the appropriate insertion site for a chest tube as he studied the immobilizing brace he had placed on Johnny’s left shoulder and arm, and the swathe that was wrapped around his chest, securing his arm to his body.  “How do you want to do this, Kel?”

Brackett’s eyebrows furrowed.  “We’ll have to take off the swathe at least, and roll him toward his right side.  Do you think you can stand over here and support his arm?”

“Sure.”  The doctors quickly traded places.

The nurses and doctors worked together to lean Johnny forward enough to remove the material that was binding his arm to his side.  Then Brackett explained what was going to happen next.  “We’re going to roll you toward your right, Johnny.  Let us do all the work, okay?”

Johnny closed his eyes and prepared for the inevitable.  Agony threatened to consume him as hands turned and moved his body, doing their best to support his injured limbs.  He could feel pillows being placed under his damaged leg and more being tucked against his back.  Someone…Borchardt, he figured…was holding onto his left arm.  And through it all, Johnny wanted to cry out.  But, he couldn’t get enough air to do so.  The next thing he knew his gown was being removed and his side was covered in betadine.  The antiseptic solution was cold, and he shivered slightly, causing the pain in his side to flare.  Dixie apologized softly as she covered Johnny’s torso in sterile sheets.  The next voice Johnny heard belonged to Brackett.

“You may feel some burning or stinging when I inject the lidocaine, Johnny.  And then some pressure and pain when the tube goes in.   But, I promise you when this is done, you’re going to feel a lot better.”

Johnny clenched his eyes shut and tried not to let his emotions get the better of him.  He had seen plenty of chest tube insertions before, but never in his wildest imagination did he ever think he would have to go through it.  He couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Ok, Johnny.  You’re gonna feel a little pinch here…”

Johnny hissed sharply when he felt the sting of the needle in his side.  But, the burning sensation that came afterward was almost more than he could handle.  Unwilling tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. 

“One more, Johnny.  Almost done…”

Johnny was beginning to feel the walls closing in and he knew on some level that he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen.  He could feel Brackett’s fingers probing his intercostal space, and although it didn’t hurt, the idea of it made him feel nauseous.  Maybe passing out wouldn’t be such a bad thing.  He could just barely focus on the doctor’s voice as he spoke to the nurses who were helping him.  But then, a sudden intense pain brought him back to awareness.  “Ahh…God…”

“Easy, Johnny.  The worst part is over.”  Brackett accepted a suture needle from Dixie and began securing the tube.  He could hear the water in the pleurevac bubbling which meant the air was being suctioned out of Johnny’s chest.  “How are you doing?”

Johnny noticed the pressure in his chest seemed to be decreasing, and he was once again able to draw air into his lungs.  He was afraid to speak just yet, so he settled for a nod.

Brackett wrapped a piece of Vaseline soaked gauze around the tube and finished off the procedure with a large, square bandage.  He removed his gloves and listened intently to Johnny’s lungs.  “It’s sounding much better.  We’ll get some X-rays, and then we’ll let you get some rest.”

Borchardt continued to support Johnny’s left arm.  “I want to get pictures of his humerus fracture too to make sure it didn’t shift out of position with all the vomiting today and now this.”

“Right.”  Brackett agreed.  Then he helped the others carefully position Johnny on his back again after re-securing the swathe.  Once pillows were placed, and the bed was adjusted, Brackett did one final check of the chest tube.  “It seems to be working well, Johnny.  How are you feeling now?”

Johnny looked up at his doctor wearily.  “Like I could…sleep for a week…Doc.”

Brackett smiled.  “Well, once X-ray is done with you, we may just let you do that.  I’ll be right back.”  He followed Borchardt and Dora out into the hallway.

Dixie approached the bed and picked up Johnny’s hand in her own, rubbing small circles on the back of it.  She really hated seeing him go through all of this.  “I’m going to go let Roy know what’s going on.  Is there anything else you need?”

“How long does…this thing…hafta stay…in?”

Dixie smiled and ruffled Johnny’s hair.  When a person had a chest tube, it was imperative that he remain very still.  Not that Johnny would be moving around much anyway, with his other injuries, but she suddenly felt sorry for the normally very hyper paramedic.  “Usually no more than a few days, Johnny.  If your lung doesn’t re-expand completely on its own by then, Kel will probably want to do surgery to repair it.”

Johnny closed his eyes, which Dixie correctly interpreted as a nonverbal indication that he didn’t want any more surgery.

“I’m sure it you won’t need to worry about that.”  The nurse looked up at the clamoring at the door.  The radiology techs were here with their cumbersome piece of equipment.  “I’m gonna go now.  But, I’ll be back to say good night.”  She gave his hand a final squeeze and left the technicians to their work.

zzz

Roy sat in his room, nervously watching the clock, thankful that the nurses seemed to be leaving him alone.  He wondered what was keeping Dixie so long.  Maybe there was a situation in the ER that needed her attention, and she wasn’t able to get back to him yet.  But, Dixie’s shift was over, right?  Or maybe something bad happened to Johnny…

Finally, the door opened and Dixie walked in.  Roy’s stomach tightened into a giant knot.  “Dix?”  She was smiling.  That was a good sign.

Dixie walked over to the bed.  “Johnny developed a tension pneumothorax…”

“He what?” 

Dixie planted a firm hand on Roy’s uninjured shoulder.  “Now, Roy.  He’s all right.  He recognized the symptoms and called for his nurse right away.  She paged Kel, and he placed a chest tube.  It’s doing its job.  Kel thinks all the vomiting Johnny was doing earlier may have been the cause, or it could have just happened on its own.  Oh, and Borchardt had to realign the humerus fracture.  Apparently it moved out of place slightly.”

Roy stared down at his blanket as he pondered everything his best friend had had to endure in the past twenty four hours.  And here he was, ready to go home in the morning.  It hardly seemed fair.  “Well…how’s he doing?”

Dixie smiled again.  Inasmuch as these two men tried to make the world believe there was nothing more to their relationship than simply two guys who worked together, she knew there was much more to it than that.  “Well…I don’t think he’s too happy about having to lie in bed and be still…but he’s sleeping now.  And Kel thinks he’ll sleep through until morning.  Then, he’s going to pull the NG tube and let Johnny try to eat something.”

Roy breathed a long sigh of relief.  Then he had a thought.  “Dix?  Can you get me the phone book?  Cap would want to know…”

Dixie spoke as she neatly arranged Roy’s covers.  “Roy, it’s almost one in the morning.  And Johnny’s fine.  Didn’t Hank say he would be stopping in this morning?”

Roy had been so consumed with worry, he had almost forgotten about the time.  “Yeah…I guess he did.  Did Brackett say when he thought Johnny would be moved to a regular room?  I know the rest of the guys are anxious to see him too.”

“No, he didn’t.  But I imagine Kel will keep him in ICU until his lung re-expands.”

Roy frowned.  “Huh.  I guess that could be about a week, then.”  It was a statement rather than a question.

“Yeah…maybe.”  Dixie could sense Roy’s concern.  “It’s where he needs to be right now, Roy…”

“I know…I know that, Dix.  It’s just that it’s not…”

“Fair?”

Roy’s eyes rose to meet the knowing eyes of his favorite nurse.  “How do you do that?”

Dixie just smiled.  “I’m a nurse, Roy.  Mindreading is part of the job.  Besides, I know a Roy Desoto guilt trip when I see one.”

That comment brought a hint of a smile to Roy’s lips, which quickly faded.  “If only I could have held him, Dix…”

Dixie leaned in, her expression kind, yet serious.  “You did everything you could.  Your captain knows it.  Johnny knows it.  And…I think you know it too.”

“Yeah…I guess.  It’s just…”

“And Johnny’s going to be fine.  And you’re going home tomorrow.”  And thank God we didn’t lose either one of you.  Dixie gave the blanket one final adjustment.  “Now, get some sleep.  Joanne will be here early in the morning.”

zzz

“So, Johnny…how would you like to lose this nasogastric tube and try eating some breakfast?”  Dr. Brackett stood beside Johnny’s bed as he questioned the groggy paramedic.

Johnny blinked lazily up at his doctor, trying to figure out which was worse.  Being in pain or dealing with the side effects of his various medications.  “I’m all for losing the tube, Doc…but…I’m not very hungry.”

Brackett spoke as he draped a towel over Johnny’s chest.  “Are you still feeling nauseous?”

Johnny took a moment to try to figure that out.  “Not really.  Just…don’t feel like eating.”

“Well, that’s perfectly normal, Johnny.  But, you need to eat in order to get your appetite stimulated again.  You don’t have to eat everything on your tray, but it’s important that you try to eat something, okay?”

Johnny sighed in resignation.  Once this was over, he didn’t plan on being a patient again anytime soon.  “Yeah…okay, Doc.”

Brackett smiled as he removed the tape securing the tube to Johnny’s face.  “Okay, Johnny. Take a deep breath and hold it.”  The doctor made quick work of his task, and then Olivia, the nurse, helped Johnny rinse his mouth and blow his nose.  “How does that feel?”

Johnny yawned.  “Better.”

Brackett wrote some notes in Johnny’s chart and gave orders to Olivia to make sure Johnny was given a breakfast tray.  He passed Roy and Joanne on the way out and offered his greetings.

Roy and Joanne stepped into the cubicle and noticed the nurse.  Roy quickly offered to leave.  “We can come back in a few minutes…”

Olivia removed the BP cuff she had wrapped around her patient’s arm and smiled.  “No, that’s okay.  I’m on my way out.”  She gave Johnny’s arm a pat.  “He’s doing better this morning.”

“Really?”  Roy took a step closer to the bed.  His eyes settled for a moment on the large, plastic tube snaking its way out from under Johnny’s immobilized arm.

Johnny waited until Olivia was gone to answer.  “I don’t know, Roy…I guess so.  I just…”

“Well, you look like you must feel awful, Johnny.”  Joanne approached the bed after silently taking in his pallid appearance and the various braces and medical paraphernalia.  She wasn’t used to seeing Johnny in such a weakened, vulnerable state.  And, even though Roy had filled her in on what to expect, it still came as somewhat of a shock.

Johnny attempted a half hearted smile, sorry that he appeared to be scaring Joanne.  Did he really look as bad as he felt?  “It’s not so bad, Joanne.  They keep me pretty drugged up.”

Roy exchanged a glance with Joanne.  They had already discussed the problems Johnny seemed to be having adjusting to his medications.  “I see you lost the NG tube.”

Johnny rubbed at his nose.  “Yeah…just before you got here.  I guess they’re bringing me something to eat soon.”

“That’s good, Johnny!”  Roy was glad to see that despite the setback early this morning, Johnny’s condition seemed to be on the upswing.

“Yeah…I guess …if I felt hungry, that is.”

Joanne moved closer and began smoothing Johnny’s hair.  “That’ll come back in time.”  She looked over at Roy in a silent exchange of concern.  Johnny’s features were growing taut, and his breathing was becoming more rapid.  A fine sheen of perspiration was breaking out on his forehead.

Roy nodded at his wife knowingly, but kept quiet for now.

Johnny motioned toward Roy’s sling.  “So, you’re getting outta here, huh?”

Roy’s eyes moved downward, almost guiltily.  “Yep.  But I’m gonna be bored out of my skull…sitting around the house all day…”

Joanne started to throw her husband a venomous look, but stopped when she realized he was speaking for Johnny’s benefit.  “And, he’ll be driving ME crazy too.  That’s for sure.”

Roy could see that Johnny was working harder to mask his pain, and he wondered why.  Was it because he didn’t want to appear weak in front of him and Joanne?  Or was it because he wanted to be coherent enough to visit with them?  Or…could it be because of the way the medications make him feel?  He knew asking Johnny outright might not be a good plan, so he decided to throw out some bait.  “So, how’s the leg?”

Johnny looked down at the limb in question.  The sight of it still sickened him.  “It’s uh…it’s doing all right, I guess.  Won’t be doing any hiking for a while.”

“No, I guess not…”

“Is it painful, Johnny?”  Joanne could see the two men beating around the bush, and she decided to cut to the chase.

Johnny looked almost relieved.  “Yeah.”

Everyone looked up at the arrival of an aide carrying a breakfast tray.  She placed it on Johnny’s table and walked out.  Olivia came in a few seconds later.  “See if you can eat at least a little of that, John.  I’m sure your friends can help you, but call me if you need me for anything.”

Roy watched as Joanne began opening the foil lid on Johnny’s container of gelatin.  “I think he may be due for some pain meds.”

Olivia eyed her patient suspiciously, and decided she agreed with Roy’s assessment.  “John?  You need some Demerol?”

Johnny reluctantly agreed.  He longed to feel like a healthy, normal person again.  “Yeah…but…let’s wait until after I eat, okay?”

Olivia hesitated a moment.  “Okay.  But, you’ll let me know if it gets worse?”  She aimed her question at Roy, and he nodded.

“Yeah…thanks.”  Johnny accepted a bite of lime gelatin from Joanne and cringed at the lack of taste and the somewhat slimy texture.  “Oh, man…they really expect me to eat that stuff?”

Joanne nodded and offered another bite with a smile.

zzz

The following day, Brackett made his way to Johnny’s room quickly, after receiving a page.  He entered the cubicle to find Trudy, Johnny’s day nurse, standing beside her patient, doing her best to aid him through a painful bout of wet coughing.  “When did this start?”  The concerned doctor asked, pulling his stethoscope out of his pocket and placing it into his ears as he moved toward the bed in one fluid motion.

“Just a little while ago.  His temp is up to 103.6 and he’s complaining of chills.”  Trudy stepped back allowing Brackett room to work. 

Brackett leaned over his patient, listening to his lungs, and not liking what he was hearing.  He removed the earpieces of his stethoscope with a sigh.  “Johnny?  How does your chest feel?”

Johnny began to answer the doctor’s question, but was cut off by another cough.  Right now he was having trouble sorting out exactly what he was feeling.  “Hurts…when I…cough.”  As if to demonstrate the point, he began hacking once more, his eyes tearing from the pain it was causing in his injured ribs.

Brackett did his best to soothe his patient and friend, knowing full well how the pressure of coughing would be almost unbearable with fractured ribs and chest tube.  But, right now, the doctor’s bigger concern was that Johnny would cause further damage to his lung.  “Easy, Johnny…I know.”  He noticed Johnny seemed to be having trouble catching his breath and he looked over at Trudy.  “Let’s switch him to a mask.  10 liters for now.  And then draw some blood for a CBC and ABG.  Let’s get cultures of his blood, sputum, and urine, a chest X-ray…and then start cooling measures.”

Johnny was too exhausted from the effort of breathing to concern himself too much with the ordered tests, but he knew what they, along with these new symptoms likely meant.  A chill skittered down his spine and he shivered, moaning at the new pain it left in its wake.  “Cold…”

Brackett rested a hand on Johnny’s uninjured shoulder.  “I know you feel cold, Johnny.  But, you’ve got a pretty high fever.  We need to get your temperature down.”  He quickly donned his stethoscope and listened again to Johnny’s chest, content that the higher flow of more concentrated oxygen seemed to be helping somewhat.

“Doc…”  Johnny breathed weakly.  “What do I…sound like?”

Brackett’s mouth twitched.  He knew better than to jade the truth.  “Not too great, Johnny.  Bilateral rales…some wheezing…”

“Pneumonia.”  Johnny closed his eyes as if admitting defeat.

“Probably.”  Brackett spoke as he coiled his stethoscope in his hands.  “We’ll run some tests to be sure.  I’m going to add another antibiotic to your IV.  Don’t worry, Johnny.  This is common after surgery, especially with a chest injury.  You know that.”

“Yeah…but…knowing  it…and living it…”  Johnny’s voice trailed off.  He was out of breath, and too tired to finish his thought.

Luckily, Brackett understood.  “Two different things.  I know.”  He gave Johnny’s shoulder a pat.  “It’ll be okay.”

“Doc…”  Johnny winced as Trudy completed the blood draw.

“Don’t talk, Johnny.  Just try to relax.”  Brackett urged.

“Don’t tell…Roy.  He’ll just…come down here…And he needs…”  Johnny’s eyes closed and then reopened.  But they were brimming with the urgency he felt.

Brackett understood what Johnny was trying to communicate.  That if he told Roy Johnny had taken this turn for the worse, that he would come down here, and that he was injured and needed his rest too.  He couldn’t help but smile at the friendship these two shared.  “Okay, Johnny.  I won’t call Roy.”  Brackett made this promise for now, knowing full well that if Johnny’s condition did not improve in the next few hours that he would be breaking it.  Besides, he had a feeling Roy would be making an appearance here at some point today anyway.

Johnny closed his eyes in relief, but he was far from sleep.  He felt restless and unsettled, and that anxiety, along with the pain he was feeling prevented the slumber he sought.  Over the next hour, his body was moved to accommodate the cold, metal X-ray plates, and his wrist was speared for a blood gas, and the blankets were moved aside for…oh, God…did she really say a Tylenol suppository?  Kill me now!  And then there was the nauseating aroma of plastic as the cooling blankets were positioned under and over him.  Hadn’t he made it clear he was already cold?  Once it was all said and done, and he was finally left alone, or at least as alone as he could be in the ICU, Johnny laid awake thinking he had never been more miserable in his life. 

zzz

Roy stood looking down at his partner’s fever glazed expression, wondering if he even knew what was happening to him.  Dr. Brackett had filled Roy in, told him that Johnny had been alternating between periods of lucidity and delirium as the infection in his lungs took hold of his sensibilities.  Johnny had been placed on a ventilator earlier, and had been given some light sedation, but he continued to fight the tube in his throat, despite almost constant assurances about its necessity.  Seeing his normally vibrant partner in this condition was almost more than the ordinarily calm paramedic could handle.  Roy moved tentatively toward the bed and wrapped his hand around Johnny’s unnaturally hot and clammy one, his stomach knotting at the site of the padded restraint securing his friend’s unimmobilized arm.  “Hey.  Johnny, it’s me.”  Roy waited, watching the wandering brown eyes that seemed to roam the room in confusion, to see if they would settle on him with some spark of recognition.  They didn’t.  “Come on, partner.  You’re supposed to be getting better, not worse.”

The brown eyes continued to roam until finally widening with some unknown fright.  A gagging sound could be heard from the back of Johnny’s throat, setting off the high pitched wail of the vent alarm.  Roy grasped tightly onto Johnny’s hand, willing himself to stay strong as frustrated tears streamed down his partner’s fever flushed cheeks.  Roy reached up and switched off the alarm, never stopping to look up from offering his words of encouragement as Trudy entered the room.  “You’re on a vent, Johnny.  It’s helping you.  Do you hear me, Johnny?  It’s me.  It’s Roy.”

Trudy did a quick check of her patient, and then headed for the door, knowing he was in good hands.  “He’s been doing that all day, Roy.  Fighting it like crazy.  But, he needs it…”  The nurse noticed the somewhat lost look on Roy’s face and took one step back inside the room, realizing maybe he needed some comforting too.  “I’ll page Dr. Brackett.  Maybe he can increase his sedation…make him more comfortable.”

Roy nodded, unsure.  On the one hand, more sedation would be risky.  On the other hand, it was painful to watch Johnny struggling like this, especially when his words didn’t seem to be getting through to him.  And it wasn’t fair…his best friend having to go through all of this because he tried to rescue someone who wasn’t even rescue-able.  Roy tried to remind himself it was all part of the job, and that Johnny, like himself, made that dangerous climb up the cliff willingly and fully aware of the risks.  But right now, that assurance was a hard pill to swallow.  He watched Trudy leave the room, heard the page go out for Johnny’s doctor, and continued to do the only thing he could do for his friend at the moment.  Let him know he was here.  Roy hoped somewhere in Johnny’s fever and drug crazed existence, he could leech some comfort from that.

zzz

“Well, Johnny.  You’re sounding much better.”  Brackett straightened and removed his stethoscope.  “I think we can remove that chest tube today, and if that lung stays inflated, we can move you to a room on the orthopedic floor tomorrow.  How does that sound?”

“Sounds great.”  Johnny cringed at the raw croak which had been his voice ever since the ventilator tube was removed a few days ago.  His throat still felt swollen and sore.  He was tired beyond belief, and knew he had a long way to go towards healing, but the thought of getting out of the ICU and into a quieter room where he wouldn’t be constantly subjected to prodding and monitoring and where all of his friends could visit, sounded like pure heaven.

Brackett moved to the opposite side of the bed, and rolled the covers aside.  “How does your leg feel?”

Johnny craned an eyebrow as he completed his own visual assessment of the still swollen limb.  “Well, it still hurts a lot.  But my physical therapist was just here a while ago.  He promised to have me up and around in no time.”  Johnny’s tone of voice did not match his implied enthusiasm.

Brackett stood back and folded his arms.  “You don’t sound too sure about that, Johnny.  I can assure you, Borchardt chose Rampart’s best physical therapist to work with you on this.  If anyone can have you up and around in record time, it’s…”

“I know…I know.”  Johnny cut the doctor off.  Borchardt had already filled him in on the therapist’s long list of credentials and accomplishments.  And the truth was, Johnny really liked the guy.  He trusted him to do what he said he could.  But… “It’s just that…well, there’s a difference between up and around and back to work.”

Brackett’s expression melded into an understanding smile.  “I know, Johnny.  But, I’ve been talking to Borchardt.  He doesn’t have any doubts.  So, neither should you.”

“Okay…if you say so, Doc.”  Johnny smoothed the blanket over his lap.

“I say so.”  Brackett moved to the foot of the bed and opened Johnny’s chart.  “I’m not saying it won’t be a difficult and sometimes painful process, but I don’t doubt that in another few months, you’ll be running through the halls of the ER again, chasing down my nurses.”

Johnny smiled slightly.  “As long as I’m in uniform when I’m doing the chasing.”

Brackett finished writing some notes, then snapped the metal lid of the chart closed.  “You will be.  Believe me, the nurses all love to see you in those bunkers of yours.  I don’t know what it is…”

“Really?”  Johnny pondered that for a moment.  “Huh.  Maybe I should write a suggestion to the chief.  See if we can wear the bunkers all the time…not just at night.”

Brackett chuckled.  “There you go.  That will give you something to work on while you recuperate.”

“I mean…it makes sense, actually.  Bunkers are supposed to protect us in a fire.  Well, we fight fires during the daytime too, not just at night.  I mean, sure they’re hot.  But I really think if you look at the safety issue…”

Brackett walked out smiling as the rant continued.  Yes, Johnny Gage was feeling much better.

zzz

Hank Stanley stood in the hallway outside Johnny’s room waiting for Roy to return from the vending machines.  He had already spoken with his senior paramedic about the transposition of numbers which caused the chief to mistakenly award his men with a commendation intended for the paramedics at Station 15.  The captain had been hesitant, avoiding the conversation as long as he could.  It hardly seemed fair to have to tell Roy that he and Johnny weren’t being recognized after everything they had been through lately.  But, Roy had taken the news well.  In fact, he had almost seemed relieved.  But, now that Johnny was feeling better, it was time to tell him what they knew.  And neither man was looking forward to it.  After all, Johnny had been through a lot these past few weeks.  Supplying this news felt akin to delivering a well placed kick in the teeth.  Cap looked up to see Roy returning with two cans of soda in hand.  “You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”  Roy pushed open the door to Johnny’s room.  He was happy to see his partner sitting up in bed, reading the copy of Wheels and Gears he had brought him yesterday.  “Hey, Johnny.”  He held up a can of ginger ale.  “Brought you something to drink.”

“Thanks!”  Johnny accepted the soda as his eyes lit up at the sight of his friends.

Cap stood at the foot of the bed, nervously rocking on his heels, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.  “How are you feeling, pal?”

“Pretty good…pretty good.  Can’t wait to get out of here, though.”

Cap chuckled.  “Well, Roy here says that’s happening soon enough.  Just a few more days, right?”

“Yeah…so they say.”  Johnny took a sip of his drink.  For the next several minutes, he participated in the friendly conversation, listening to the latest news from the station.  But, at the back of his mind, a question lingered, one that had been niggling annoyingly for the past several days.  He had been trying to figure out how to breach it with his captain, finally figuring he would talk to Roy about it first, but he hadn’t had the chance.  Never one to think much before speaking, he decided to just come out with it.  “Cap…about that commendation from the chief…”

Cap glanced uncomfortably at Roy.  “Yeah, John.  About that…”

“I decided I don’t want it.”

Johnny’s words left Roy and the captain temporarily speechless.  Finally, Roy smiled.  He understood without any explanation.

Cap asked the inevitable question.  “You don’t?”

Johnny continued, a little more uncomfortably.  “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you.  I don’t want to seem ungrateful.  But, I’ve had plenty of time to think in here…and well…with all I’ve been through these past few weeks, you’d think I’d never want to climb another cliff as long as I live.  But, the truth is, I can’t wait to get back to work.  I started thinking there must be something wrong with me…”

Roy took a step closer to the bed and rested his hand on the rail as a gesture of support.  “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“The truth is, Cap.  I’d go through it all over again.  If there’s someone who needs help…I know that sounds crazy…”

Cap smiled.  “It doesn’t sound crazy.”

“Anyway, it got me thinking.  And I realized…”  Johnny made eye contact with Roy, somehow knowing he was feeling the same way.  “I realized…we don’t do what we do to be called heroes.  We don’t do it for awards…or commendations.  We do it because…it’s our job.  And it’s who we are.  I think I speak for both of us when I say…I just…I just wouldn’t feel right accepting that commendation.  I hope Chief Houts isn’t offended.”

Cap breathed a sigh that was one part relief, one part overwhelming pride.  “I don’t think he’ll be offended at all.”  He exchanged a brief smile with Roy.

Roy spoke, his voice characteristically quiet.  “You know, a lot of things have been going through my mind these past two weeks.  The pain I dealt with, watching everything you had to go through…and all of it over a man we couldn’t save in the first place.  It hit me…there’s a real futility in what we do sometimes.  But, the worst part was…worrying about whether you would be all right.  That’s something I never want to go through again.”

“Me neither, partner.”  Johnny looked down at his lap.

“But, the truth is…we both know that risk is there.  And we both willingly take that risk.  And along with that risk comes the promise to watch each other’s backs.  Right?”

Johnny smiled and offered his hand to Roy for a shake.  “Right.”

After a moment or two of silence, Roy looked up at his captain with a half wink.  “So, you’ll let Chief Houts know we don’t feel comfortable accepting that commendation, right, Cap?”

“Right.  I’ll let him know.”  Cap looked over at Johnny.  “You just concentrate on getting better, so you can get back to work where you belong.”  Then, he gestured toward Roy’s sling.  “You too, pal.”

“Right, Cap.”

“Thanks.” 

Cap stepped out into the hallway and blinked back a tear that had formed in the corner of his eye.  He would be talking to the chief all right…to let him know how lucky the department was to have men like Gage and Desoto working there, men who did their jobs well, and expected nothing in return.

--FINIS--   

Author’s notes:  I got the idea for the ending of this story from something that happened at work recently, a rare save of a cardiac arrest patient.  Soon after the call, my EMS company was having its annual appreciation banquet.  There was talk about honoring the providers who responded on that call, since it is so rare that our efforts in a cardiac arrest reap positive results.  The patient was being released from the hospital with no complications, so of course, he was appreciative too.  I was sitting in the trip sheet room one morning working on a chart when I overheard the paramedic who responded on the call arguing with our chief.  He was telling him he didn’t want to be recognized or honored at the banquet, was practically pleading with the chief not to do it.  He said he didn’t do what he did to be a hero, he did it because it was his job.  It was what he does.  Well, banquet night came and sure enough, our chief respected the paramedic’s wishes, and prior to handing out awards for some other accomplishments he said, “The funny thing about EMS providers is…they don’t want to be recognized.”  He stopped talking then, tears in his eyes, too emotional for a few seconds to continue.  Those of us who were there that morning to overhear that conversation…knew why.

Again my many thanks and hugs to my beta, Mary Ann.  I put Kel in civvies for you again.  Maybe in the next story I’ll put him in skivvies…hmm…

And to the readers:  Thank you for your interest in my psychosis.  I just can’t stop hurtin’ dat man…

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Guest Dispatchers           Stories by Morningwolf              May Picture 2009