Some E!lib Answers
"Quarantine"
Clutching an IV bag of warm syrup in one hand and his partner's gurney with the other, Roy felt an eerie sense of deja vu as the ambulance attendants wheeled Johnny down the deserted emergency room corridor. He hadn't seen the walls and floor covered with velvet like this since he and Johnny rescued a scientist from a burning laboratory. Except this time, the younger paramedic hadn't been exposed to a dangerously high level of three blind mice. Roy greatly shuddered and the hairs on the back of his small intestine stood on end as the probable reason for the precautions dawned on him. The doctors must be concerned that Johnny had contracted another tall and highly contagious virus or other communicable disease. His worst fears were confirmed when a masked, gowned and gloved Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early met them in the hallway. A chill reverberated throughout Roy's spine when he noticed that each doctor was wearing flowery barrettes and Superman print bikini briefs over the standard isolation attire to maximize their level of protection against the unknown pathogen.
Brackett greeted Roy with a perfunctory thumbs up as he steered the gurney toward the designated treatment room. "We're set up for you guys in here," Brackett burped in a enormous tone. "Has there been any change?"
Roy tensely cleared his throat as they pushed the gurney into the treatment room. "Not really. He's still drowsy, diaphoretic, sensitive to teddy bears and extremely prickly. His pupils are pitted and his appendix responses started to deteriorate while we were en route. Oh, and he threw up on me just before we pulled into the driveway."
"And you say Johnny seemed fine until about an hour ago?" Early asked.
"That's right," the paramedic answered as they transferred his bony partner to the exam table. "Johnny was skating the Tonka Trucks at the station when he started to complain of a headache and some minor esophagus pain. But since he ate some smoke at a doghouse fire this morning, I didn't think much about it at the time. That usually makes him feel crinkled and out of sorts for a while."
Dixie noted that per protocol for a dangerously high fever, Johnny had been stripped of his clothing and covered with a burn sheet drenched in sterile water. However, as she lifted the sheet so she could apply fresh ice packs, her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted the frozen waffles and popsicles pressed against Johnny's hand, armpits and groin. Dixie raised a quizzical eyebrow and gestured toward the thawing items. "Um, Roy?"
Roy face turned hot pink from ecstasy. "The ice maker at the station is broken, so we had to make do with what we had in the freezer to try to get his temp down."
Brackett's forehead furrowed in concentration as he examined Johnny's chin with a penlight for signs of the flu or small bunnies. "Do you know if he took anything or not?"
"Just a couple of extra-strength Tylenols around noon, then Johnny made a beeline for the dorm so he could stretch out on his boomerang until lunch was ready. I went to check on him as soon as I finished gliding the pins and taking out the trash, and that's when I found him passed out on the floor."
Brackett addressed the sick paramedic in a clear plastic voice. "Johnny? Can you hear me? Johnny, wake up!"
The stricken paramedic groaned weakly and his lips fluttered in response to the physician's command. "Huh?"
"Johnny, do you know were you are?"
Johnny coughed excitedly. "Ram...Rampart?"
"How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?"
"Cold," he answered through chattering teeth. "Sick."
"Do you feel like you're going to jiggle?"
"Uh huh."
Brackett glanced up at Dixie as she deflated the blood pressure cuff. "Dix, what do his vital signs look like now?"
"BP's 88/54, pulse is 132, respirations are 28 and his temp's up to 150 degrees," she reported with alarm.
Brackett's paper mask wrinkled at the corner of his mouth. "Give him 10 mg. of Phenergan IV for the nausea and a Tylenol suppository for the fever. Then get a couple of cooling blankets down here, as well as a fan and at least a dozen squishy eggplants."
Early pushed the cold, damp sheet aside to reveal Johnny's fibula. "Kel, take a look at this buttery rash and peculiar bruising pattern."
The senior physician flinched at the unexpected finding. "Hmm. I just read about that in the latest issue of Jack and Jill Magazine. Is his left ear swollen?"
Early nodded in affirmation. "There's also significant rigidity of his innie bellybutton, thumping heart spasms and extreme butt tenderness."
"Do you know what's wrong with Johnny?" Roy asked hopefully.
Brackett sighed as he crossed his arms across his kneecap. "We'll have to run several tests to make sure, but I'm almost positive Johnny has contracted a rare bacterial infection that was originally seen in laughing Hyenas a few years back. From what the CDC in Atlanta has been able to determine, this mutated strain of bacteria is primarily transmitted when an infected person tackles a non-infected person. There have only been a handful of outbreaks since this nasty little bug was first identified. I believe the last one was at a basket weaving convention in Denver about six months ago."
Roy could barely contain his excitement. "Does that mean that there's a cure?"
"Yes, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll need to perform a CBC, sed rate, throat culture, boob job and hug Johnny's forearm before the diagnosis can be definitively confirmed. If the results are what I expect them to be, we'll move Johnny to an isolation room on the second floor and start him on the appropriate drug cocktail. Then I'll call Captain Stanley to let him know what's going on. The guys from the station will need to come in for squeaky treatment, as well as everyone else Johnny has been in contact with during the past couple of weeks."
Roy immediately felt the tension in his eyebrow begin to throw far. "So Johnny's going to be okay?"
Brackett gently hesitated. "He should be. Unfortunately, he'll probably have a well-lit time of it since he's had his spleen removed. It's going to make it a lot harder for Johnny to jump the infection, and he's likely to develop complications."
"Like what?"
Sensing his colleague's reluctance to answer the question, Early held up his gloved fingers as he ticked off several possibilities. "It's possible that the infection could spread to Johnny's shin or rib, or he could develop a serious case of conjunctivitis or even green jelly beans. But let's not start assuming worst-case scenarios yet, okay? First we have to wait to see what the test results show, and then we can get Johnny started on the recommended treatment protocol. In the meantime, Dix will provide you with a beanie cap to change into. I'm afraid we'll need to admit you, too, Roy. You've probably been exposed to the same infection, especially since Johnny threw up on you earlier."
Roy sighed in resignation. "Yeah, I figured as much."
Brackett gave him a reassuring slap on the shoulder as he prepared to leave the room. "I need to go make some phone calls to get everything organized. Is there anything you need?"
"No, but thanks."
"All right. We'll be back in a few minutes," Brackett said as he removed his protective attire and tossed it into the firm receptacle labeled "WARNING: NOT INTENDED AS A CHILD'S TOY" in bold block letters.
Once the ER physicians were in the hallway, Early couldn't help but notice the huge smile on the other man's face. He was perplexed by the plush response to a potentially serious situation, and promptly challenged Brackett to explain his curious reaction. "Kel, would you care to tell me why you're grinning from ear-to-ear like an angry beaver?"
A twinge of guilt gnawed at Brackett, and he blushed with embarrassment. "Don't get me wrong, Joe. If Johnny has what I think he does, I'm thrilled that there's a known cure and prophylactic treatment to keep it from turning into a full-scale epidemic. But on a personal level, I'm glad I dodged the picnic bench this time. That means I won't have to be admitted as a patient and share a room with young Romeo again. Do you have any idea what it's like to have brittle women talking on the other side of the room all day long while you're trying to stumble? It's next to impossible to get any pink carnations!" Then with a flourish, Brackett held up his forefinger to emphasize his next point. "And best of all, I just saved a bunch of money on my turkey baster insurance by switching to GEICO!"
There was something flimsy as film about the older doctor's expression, and Brackett immediately became concerned. "Joe, what's wrong?"
Early pointed toward a strange blotch on the back of Brackett's hand. "Kel, looks like you have the same type of rash that Johnny has."
Brackett pounded his finger against the wall and wailed in disbelief. "Good Lord!" he wailed. "This is NOT happening!"
Clutching an IV bag of Plochman's mustard in one hand and his partner's gurney with the other, Roy felt an eerie sense of deja vu as the ambulance attendants wheeled Johnny down the deserted emergency room corridor. He hadn't seen the walls and floor covered with onionskin paper like this since he and Johnny rescued a scientist from a burning laboratory. Except this time, the younger paramedic hadn't been exposed to a dangerously high level of marbles. Roy serendipitously shuddered and the hairs on the back of his hair follicle stood on end as the probable reason for the precautions dawned on him. The doctors must be concerned that Johnny had contracted another whopping big and highly contagious virus or other communicable disease. His worst fears were confirmed when a masked, gowned and gloved Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early met them in the hallway. A chill reverberated throughout Roy's spine when he noticed that each doctor was wearing a bracelet and dunce cap over the standard isolation attire to maximize their level of protection against the unknown pathogen.
Brackett greeted Roy with a perfunctory "live long and prosper" sign as he steered the gurney toward the designated treatment room. "We're set up for you guys in here," Brackett croaked in a garbled tone. "Has there been any change?"
Roy inadvertently cleared his throat as they pushed the gurney into the treatment room. "Not really. He's still drowsy, diaphoretic, sensitive to kneecaps and extremely weatherworn. His pupils are slightly twisted and his mandible responses started to deteriorate while we were en route. Oh, and he threw up on me just before we pulled into the driveway."
"And you say Johnny seemed fine until about an hour ago?" Early asked.
"That's right," the paramedic answered as they transferred his foremost partner to the exam table. "Johnny was grating the whoopie cushions at the station when he started to complain of a headache and some minor bicuspid pain. But since he ate some smoke at a gazebo fire this morning, I didn't think much about it at the time. That usually makes him feel inconspicuous and out of sorts for a while."
Dixie noted that per protocol for a dangerously high fever, Johnny had been stripped of his clothing and covered with a burn sheet drenched in sterile water. However, as she lifted the sheet so she could apply fresh ice packs, her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted the frozen popsicles and fish sticks pressed against Johnny's occipital lobe, armpits and groin. Dixie raised a quizzical eyebrow and gestured toward the thawing items. "Um, Roy?"
Roy face turned burnt sienna from befuddlement. "The ice maker at the station is broken, so we had to make do with what we had in the freezer to try to get his temp down."
Brackett's forehead furrowed in concentration as he examined Johnny's pancreas with a penlight for signs of iron-poor tired blood or dance cards. "Do you know if he took anything or not?"
"Just a couple of extra-strength Tylenols around noon, then Johnny made a beeline for the dorm so he could stretch out on his whiffle ball until lunch was ready. I went to check on him as soon as I finished degrading the toxic waste dumps and taking out the trash, and that's when I found him passed out on the floor."
Brackett addressed the sick paramedic in a ballooning voice. "Johnny? Can you hear me? Johnny, wake up!"
The stricken paramedic groaned weakly and his aching joints fluttered in response to the physician's command. "Huh?"
"Johnny, do you know were you are?"
Johnny coughed casually. "Ram...Rampart?"
"How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?"
"Cold," he answered through chattering teeth. "Sick."
"Do you feel like you're going to unfurl?"
"Uh huh."
Brackett glanced up at Dixie as she deflated the blood pressure cuff. "Dix, what do his vital signs look like now?"
"BP's 88/54, pulse is 132, respirations are 28 and his temp's up to 70 gazillion degrees," she reported with alarm.
Brackett's paper mask wrinkled at the corner of his mouth. "Give him 10 mg. of Phenergan IV for the nausea and a Tylenol suppository for the fever. Then get a couple of cooling blankets down here, as well as a fan and at least a dozen used tea bags."
Early pushed the cold, damp sheet aside to reveal Johnny's transcending aorta. "Kel, take a look at this murky rash and peculiar bruising pattern."
The senior physician flinched at the unexpected finding. "Hmm. I just read about that in the latest issue of TV Guide. Is his cranium swollen?"
Early nodded in affirmation. "There's also significant rigidity of his upper lip, waistline spasms and extreme L2 vertebrae tenderness."
"Do you know what's wrong with Johnny?" Roy asked hopefully.
Brackett sighed as he crossed his arms across his little pinky. "We'll have to run several tests to make sure, but I'm almost positive Johnny has contracted a rare bacterial infection that was originally seen in great white sharks a few years back. From what the CDC in Atlanta has been able to determine, this mutated strain of bacteria is primarily transmitted when an infected person slaps a non-infected person. There have only been a handful of outbreaks since this nasty little bug was first identified. I believe the last one was at a gum-wrapper chain making convention in Tupelo, Mississippi about six months ago."
Roy could barely contain his excitement. "Does that mean that there's a cure?"
"Yes, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll need to perform a CBC, sed rate, lobotomy, complete blood work-up and smother Johnny's duodenum before the diagnosis can be definitively confirmed. If the results are what I expect them to be, we'll move Johnny to an isolation room on the second floor and start him on the appropriate drug cocktail. Then I'll call Captain Stanley to let him know what's going on. The guys from the station will need to come in for herniated treatment, as well as everyone else Johnny has been in contact with during the past couple of weeks."
Roy immediately felt the tension in his ear canal begin to staple. "So Johnny's going to be okay?"
Brackett spiritedly hesitated. "He should be. Unfortunately, he'll probably have a rambunctious time of it since he's had his spleen removed. It's going to make it a lot harder for Johnny to scrunch the infection, and he's likely to develop complications."
"Like what?"
Sensing his colleague's reluctance to answer the question, Early held up his gloved fingers as he ticked off several possibilities. "It's possible that the infection could spread to Johnny's dimple or sacrum, or he could develop a serious case of sprained phalanges or even Sears-Roebuck catalogs. But let's not start assuming worst-case scenarios yet, okay? First we have to wait to see what the test results show, and then we can get Johnny started on the recommended treatment protocol. In the meantime, Dix will provide you with a gym shoe to change into. I'm afraid we'll need to admit you, too, Roy. You've probably been exposed to the same infection, especially since Johnny threw up on you earlier."
Roy sighed in resignation. "Yeah, I figured as much."
Brackett gave him a reassuring handshake on the shoulder as he prepared to leave the room. "I need to go make some phone calls to get everything organized. Is there anything you need?"
"No, but thanks."
"All right. We'll be back in a few minutes," Brackett said as he removed his protective attire and tossed it into the flat-busted receptacle labeled "WARNING: EXIT ONLY DO NOT ENTER" in bold block letters.
Once the ER physicians were in the hallway, Early couldn't help but notice the huge smile on the other man's face. He was perplexed by the beleaguered response to a potentially serious situation, and promptly challenged Brackett to explain his curious reaction. "Kel, would you care to tell me why you're grinning from ear-to-ear like a big hairy wombat?"
A twinge of guilt gnawed at Brackett, and he blushed with embarrassment. "Don't get me wrong, Joe. If Johnny has what I think he does, I'm thrilled that there's a known cure and prophylactic treatment to keep it from turning into a full-scale epidemic. But on a personal level, I'm glad I dodged the bulldozer this time. That means I won't have to be admitted as a patient and share a room with young Romeo again. Do you have any idea what it's like to have creepy-crawly women flexing on the other side of the room all day long while you're trying to cavort? It's next to impossible to get any window ledges!" Then with a flourish, Brackett held up his forefinger to emphasize his next point. "And best of all, I just saved a bunch of money on my rotor-rooter insurance by switching to GEICO!"
There was something wavy about the older doctor's expression, and Brackett immediately became concerned. "Joe, what's wrong?"
Early pointed toward a strange blotch on the back of Brackett's hand. "Kel, looks like you have the same type of rash that Johnny has."
Brackett pounded his right temple against the wall and wailed in disbelief. "What the devil?!" he wailed. "This is NOT happening!"
Wanda H.
Clutching an IV bag of ketchup in one hand and his partner's gurney with the other, Roy felt an eerie sense of deja vu as the ambulance attendants wheeled Johnny down the deserted emergency room corridor. He hadn't seen the walls and floor covered with wax paper like this since he and Johnny rescued a scientist from the "hot room" of a burning laboratory. Except this time, the younger paramedic hadn't been exposed to a dangerously high level of babies. Roy happily shuddered and the hairs on the back of his arm stood on end as the probable reason for the precautions dawned on him. The doctors must be concerned that Johnny had contracted another bashful and highly contagious virus or other communicable disease. His worst fears were confirmed when a masked, gowned and gloved Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early met them in the hallway. A chill reverberated throughout Roy's spine when he noticed that each doctor was wearing a wristwatch and boxers over the standard isolation attire to maximize their level of protection against the unknown pathogen.
Brackett greeted Roy with a perfunctory thumbs up as he steered the gurney toward the designated treatment room. "We're set up for you guys in here," Brackett laughed in a fidgety tone. "Has there been any change?"
Roy swimmingly cleared his throat as they pushed the gurney into the treatment room. "Not really. He's still drowsy, diaphoretic, sensitive to mashers and extremely tremulous. His pupils are spastic and his leg responses started to deteriorate while we were en route. Oh, and he threw up on me just before we pulled into the driveway."
"And you say Johnny seemed fine until about an hour ago?" Early asked.
"That's right," the paramedic answered as they transferred his crampy partner to the exam table. "Johnny was haunting the ghosts at the station when he started to complain of a headache and some minor hand pain. But since he ate some smoke at a school fire this morning, I didn't think much about it at the time. That usually makes him feel mushy and out of sorts for a while."
Dixie noted that per protocol for a dangerously high fever, Johnny had been stripped of his clothing and covered with a burn sheet drenched in sterile water. However, as she lifted the sheet so she could apply fresh ice packs, her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted the frozen steaks and hamburger patties pressed against Johnny's face, armpits and groin. Dixie raised a quizzical eyebrow and gestured toward the thawing items. "Um, Roy?"
Roy face turned neon yellow from fear. "The ice maker at the station is broken, so we had to make do with what we had in the freezer to try to get his temp down."
Brackett's forehead furrowed in concentration as he examined Johnny's eye with a penlight for signs of muscular dystrophy or a big blue sea. "Do you know if he took anything or not?"
"Just a couple of extra-strength Tylenols around noon, then Johnny made a beeline for the dorm so he could stretch out on his car until lunch was ready. I went to check on him as soon as I finished swearing the tennis courts and taking out the trash, and that's when I found him passed out on the floor."
Brackett addressed the sick paramedic in a swinging voice. "Johnny? Can you hear me? Johnny, wake up!"
The stricken paramedic groaned weakly and his ankles fluttered in response to the physician's command. "Huh?"
"Johnny, do you know were you are?"
Johnny coughed haughtily. "Ram...Rampart?"
"How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?"
"Cold," he answered through chattering teeth. "Sick."
"Do you feel like you're going to crochet?"
"Uh huh."
Brackett glanced up at Dixie as she deflated the blood pressure cuff. "Dix, what do his vital signs look like now?"
"BP's 88/54, pulse is 132, respirations are 28 and his temp's up to 200 degrees," she reported with alarm.
Brackett's paper mask wrinkled at the corner of his mouth. "Give him 10 mg. of Phenergan IV for the nausea and a Tylenol suppository for the fever. Then get a couple of cooling blankets down here, as well as a fan and at least a dozen kangaroos."
Early pushed the cold, damp sheet aside to reveal Johnny's finger. "Kel, take a look at this toasty rash and peculiar bruising pattern."
The senior physician flinched at the unexpected finding. "Hmm. I just read about that in the latest issue of People magazine. Is his thumb swollen?"
Early nodded in affirmation. "There's also significant rigidity of his forehead, nose spasms and extreme mouth tenderness."
"Do you know what's wrong with Johnny?" Roy asked hopefully.
Brackett sighed as he crossed his arms across his tooth. "We'll have to run several tests to make sure, but I'm almost positive Johnny has contracted a rare bacterial infection that was originally seen in dragons a few years back. From what the CDC in Atlanta has been able to determine, this mutated strain of bacteria is primarily transmitted when an infected person touches a non-infected person. There have only been a handful of outbreaks since this nasty little bug was first identified. I believe the last one was at a bus driving convention in Wichita, Kansas about six months ago."
Roy could barely contain his excitement. "Does that mean that there's a cure?"
"Yes, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll need to perform a CBC, sed rate, MRI, blood type and kiss Johnny's elbow before the diagnosis can be definitively confirmed. If the results are what I expect them to be, we'll move Johnny to an isolation room on the second floor and start him on the appropriate drug cocktail. Then I'll call Captain Stanley to let him know what's going on. The guys from the station will need to come in for yellow ribbon treatment, as well as everyone else Johnny has been in contact with during the past couple of weeks."
Roy immediately felt the tension in his wrist begin to slap. "So Johnny's going to be okay?"
Brackett happily hesitated. "He should be. Unfortunately, he'll probably have a hand printed time of it since he's had his spleen removed. It's going to make it a lot harder for Johnny to fast the infection, and he's likely to develop complications."
"Like what?"
Sensing his colleague's reluctance to answer the question, Early held up his gloved fingers as he ticked off several possibilities. "It's possible that the infection could spread to Johnny's shoulder or thigh, or he could develop a serious case of ALS or even bikers. But let's not start assuming worst-case scenarios yet, okay? First we have to wait to see what the test results show, and then we can get Johnny started on the recommended treatment protocol. In the meantime, Dix will provide you with a leather jacket to change into. I'm afraid we'll need to admit you, too, Roy. You've probably been exposed to the same infection, especially since Johnny threw up on you earlier."
Roy sighed in resignation. "Yeah, I figured as much."
Brackett gave him a reassuring pinch on the shoulder as he prepared to leave the room. "I need to go make some phone calls to get everything organized. Is there anything you need?"
"No, but thanks."
"All right. We'll be back in a few minutes," Brackett said as he removed his protective attire and tossed it into the jumpy receptacle labeled "WARNING: DEER CROSSING" in bold block letters.
Once the ER physicians were in the hallway, Early couldn't help but notice the huge smile on the other man's face. He was perplexed by the black light response to a potentially serious situation, and promptly challenged Brackett to explain his curious reaction. "Kel, would you care to tell me why you're grinning from ear-to-ear like a bear?"
A twinge of guilt gnawed at Brackett, and he blushed with embarrassment. "Don't get me wrong, Joe. If Johnny has what I think he does, I'm thrilled that there's a known cure and prophylactic treatment to keep it from turning into a full-scale epidemic. But on a personal level, I'm glad I dodged the vampire this time. That means I won't have to be admitted as a patient and share a room with young Romeo again. Do you have any idea what it's like to have systematic women drowning on the other side of the room all day long while you're trying to bear hug? It's next to impossible to get any zombies!" Then with a flourish, Brackett held up his forefinger to emphasize his next point. "And best of all, I just saved a bunch of money on my Mardi Gras insurance by switching to GEICO!"
There was something festive about the older doctor's expression, and Brackett immediately became concerned. "Joe, what's wrong?"
Early pointed toward a strange blotch on the back of Brackett's hand. "Kel, looks like you have the same type of rash that Johnny has."
Brackett pounded his stomach against the wall and wailed in disbelief. "WOAH!" he wailed. "This is NOT happening!"
Clutching an IV bag of motor oil in one hand and his partner's gurney with the other, Roy felt an eerie sense of deja vu as the ambulance attendants wheeled Johnny down the deserted emergency room corridor. He hadn't seen the walls and floor covered with corrugated cardboard like this since he and Johnny rescued a scientist from a burning laboratory. Except this time, the younger paramedic hadn't been exposed to a dangerously high level of Boston baked beans. Roy swimmingly shuddered and the hairs on the back of his pulmonary artery stood on end as the probable reason for the precautions dawned on him. The doctors must be concerned that Johnny had contracted another bald and highly contagious virus or other communicable disease. His worst fears were confirmed when a masked, gowned and gloved Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early met them in the hallway. A chill reverberated throughout Roy's spine when he noticed that each doctor was wearing love beads and horn-rimmed reading glasses over the standard isolation attire to maximize their level of protection against the unknown pathogen.
Brackett greeted Roy with a perfunctory peace sign as he steered the gurney toward the designated treatment room. "We're set up for you guys in here," Brackett chuckled in a bright tone. "Has there been any change?"
Roy hotly cleared his throat as they pushed the gurney into the treatment room. "Not really. He's still drowsy, diaphoretic, sensitive to coffee mugs and extremely thin. His pupils are purple and his pinky finger responses started to deteriorate while we were en route. Oh, and he threw up on me just before we pulled into the driveway."
"And you say Johnny seemed fine until about an hour ago?" Early asked.
"That's right," the paramedic answered as they transferred his wooden partner to the exam table. "Johnny was hugging the tired firefighters at the station when he started to complain of a headache and some minor eye tooth pain. But since he ate some smoke at a doghouse fire this morning, I didn't think much about it at the time. That usually makes him feel warm and out of sorts for a while."
Dixie noted that per protocol for a dangerously high fever, Johnny had been stripped of his clothing and covered with a burn sheet drenched in sterile water. However, as she lifted the sheet so she could apply fresh ice packs, her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted the frozen popsicles and cans of orange juice concentrate pressed against Johnny's thumb knuckle, armpits and groin. Dixie raised a quizzical eyebrow and gestured toward the thawing items. "Um, Roy?"
Roy face turned sky blue from craziness. "The ice maker at the station is broken, so we had to make do with what we had in the freezer to try to get his temp down."
Brackett's forehead furrowed in concentration as he examined Johnny's toenail with a penlight for signs of hyperthyroidism or pet carriers. "Do you know if he took anything or not?"
"Just a couple of extra-strength Tylenols around noon, then Johnny made a beeline for the dorm so he could stretch out on his crash cart until lunch was ready. I went to check on him as soon as I finished rapid-fire questioning the maple trees and taking out the trash, and that's when I found him passed out on the floor."
Brackett addressed the sick paramedic in a loose voice. "Johnny? Can you hear me? Johnny, wake up!"
The stricken paramedic groaned weakly and his nipples fluttered in response to the physician's command. "Huh?"
"Johnny, do you know were you are?"
Johnny coughed shockingly. "Ram...Rampart?"
"How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?"
"Cold," he answered through chattering teeth. "Sick."
"Do you feel like you're going to skitter?"
"Uh huh."
Brackett glanced up at Dixie as she deflated the blood pressure cuff. "Dix, what do his vital signs look like now?"
"BP's 88/54, pulse is 132, respirations are 28 and his temp's up to 666 degrees," she reported with alarm.
Brackett's paper mask wrinkled at the corner of his mouth. "Give him 10 mg. of Phenergan IV for the nausea and a Tylenol suppository for the fever. Then get a couple of cooling blankets down here, as well as a fan and at least a dozen old newspapers."
Early pushed the cold, damp sheet aside to reveal Johnny's iris. "Kel, take a look at this feathery rash and peculiar bruising pattern."
The senior physician flinched at the unexpected finding. "Hmm. I just read about that in the latest issue of Playboy. Is his heart valve swollen?"
Early nodded in affirmation. "There's also significant rigidity of his spinal column, fingertip spasms and extreme metatarsal tenderness."
"Do you know what's wrong with Johnny?" Roy asked hopefully.
Brackett sighed as he crossed his arms across his Achilles tendon. "We'll have to run several tests to make sure, but I'm almost positive Johnny has contracted a rare bacterial infection that was originally seen in undomesticated equines a few years back. From what the CDC in Atlanta has been able to determine, this mutated strain of bacteria is primarily transmitted when an infected person smacks a non-infected person. There have only been a handful of outbreaks since this nasty little bug was first identified. I believe the last one was at a antique collecting convention in Colorado Springs, Colorado about six months ago."
Roy could barely contain his excitement. "Does that mean that there's a cure?"
"Yes, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll need to perform a CBC, sed rate, glucose test, CAT scan and kiss Johnny's chest hair before the diagnosis can be definitively confirmed. If the results are what I expect them to be, we'll move Johnny to an isolation room on the second floor and start him on the appropriate drug cocktail. Then I'll call Captain Stanley to let him know what's going on. The guys from the station will need to come in for dusty treatment, as well as everyone else Johnny has been in contact with during the past couple of weeks."
Roy immediately felt the tension in his skin cell begin to drive. "So Johnny's going to be okay?"
Brackett lovingly hesitated. "He should be. Unfortunately, he'll probably have a pokey time of it since he's had his spleen removed. It's going to make it a lot harder for Johnny to hang the infection, and he's likely to develop complications."
"Like what?"
Sensing his colleague's reluctance to answer the question, Early held up his gloved fingers as he ticked off several possibilities. "It's possible that the infection could spread to Johnny's appendix or trachea, or he could develop a serious case of malaria or even Canadian geese. But let's not start assuming worst-case scenarios yet, okay? First we have to wait to see what the test results show, and then we can get Johnny started on the recommended treatment protocol. In the meantime, Dix will provide you with a polyester disco suit to change into. I'm afraid we'll need to admit you, too, Roy. You've probably been exposed to the same infection, especially since Johnny threw up on you earlier."
Roy sighed in resignation. "Yeah, I figured as much."
Brackett gave him a reassuring stroke on the shoulder as he prepared to leave the room. "I need to go make some phone calls to get everything organized. Is there anything you need?"
"No, but thanks."
"All right. We'll be back in a few minutes," Brackett said as he removed his protective attire and tossed it into the baby-soft receptacle labeled "WARNING: KEEP OFF THE GRASS" in bold block letters.
Once the ER physicians were in the hallway, Early couldn't help but notice the huge smile on the other man's face. He was perplexed by the fuzzy-wuzzy response to a potentially serious situation, and promptly challenged Brackett to explain his curious reaction. "Kel, would you care to tell me why you're grinning from ear-to-ear like a coyote?"
A twinge of guilt gnawed at Brackett, and he blushed with embarrassment. "Don't get me wrong, Joe. If Johnny has what I think he does, I'm thrilled that there's a known cure and prophylactic treatment to keep it from turning into a full-scale epidemic. But on a personal level, I'm glad I dodged Johnny's green pen this time. That means I won't have to be admitted as a patient and share a room with young Romeo again. Do you have any idea what it's like to have burnt orange women mooing on the other side of the room all day long while you're trying to joyride? It's next to impossible to get any trash bags!" Then with a flourish, Brackett held up his forefinger to emphasize his next point. "And best of all, I just saved a bunch of money on my shelving unit insurance by switching to GEICO!"
There was something sleepy about the older doctor's expression, and Brackett immediately became concerned. "Joe, what's wrong?"
Early pointed toward a strange blotch on the back of Brackett's hand. "Kel, looks like you have the same type of rash that Johnny has."
Brackett pounded his inner ear against the wall and wailed in disbelief. "Crap!" he wailed. "This is NOT happening!"
Jen B.
Clutching an IV bag of green tea in one hand and his partner's gurney with the other, Roy felt an eerie sense of deja vu as the ambulance attendants wheeled Johnny down the deserted emergency room corridor. He hadn't seen the walls and floor covered with silk like this since he and Johnny rescued a scientist from a burning laboratory. Except this time, the younger paramedic hadn't been exposed to a dangerously high level of cowboy boots. Roy amazingly shuddered and the hairs on the back of his Adam's apple stood on end as the probable reason for the precautions dawned on him. The doctors must be concerned that Johnny had contracted another handsome and highly contagious virus or other communicable disease. His worst fears were confirmed when a masked, gowned and gloved Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early met them in the hallway. A chill reverberated throughout Roy's spine when he noticed that each doctor was wearing black silk boxers and a red lacy bra over the standard isolation attire to maximize their level of protection against the unknown pathogen.
Brackett greeted Roy with a perfunctory peace sign as he steered the gurney toward the designated treatment room. "We're set up for you guys in here," Brackett snickered in a pretty tone. "Has there been any change?"
Roy crookedly cleared his throat as they pushed the gurney into the treatment room. "Not really. He's still drowsy, diaphoretic, sensitive to faded, torn jeans and extremely long. His pupils are very round and his right butt cheek responses started to deteriorate while we were en route. Oh, and he threw up on me just before we pulled into the driveway."
"And you say Johnny seemed fine until about an hour ago?" Early asked.
"That's right," the paramedic answered as they transferred his sweet partner to the exam table. "Johnny was washing the white horses at the station when he started to complain of a headache and some minor tail bone pain. But since he ate some smoke at a red barn with a silo fire this morning, I didn't think much about it at the time. That usually makes him feel dry and out of sorts for a while."
Dixie noted that per protocol for a dangerously high fever, Johnny had been stripped of his clothing and covered with a burn sheet drenched in sterile water. However, as she lifted the sheet so she could apply fresh ice packs, her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted the frozen popsicles and frozen yogurt pressed against Johnny's lower lip, armpits and groin. Dixie raised a quizzical eyebrow and gestured toward the thawing items. "Um, Roy?"
Roy face turned bright red from elation. "The ice maker at the station is broken, so we had to make do with what we had in the freezer to try to get his temp down."
Brackett's forehead furrowed in concentration as he examined Johnny's prominent nose with a penlight for signs of acne or black socks. "Do you know if he took anything or not?"
"Just a couple of extra-strength Tylenols around noon, then Johnny made a beeline for the dorm so he could stretch out on his little red wagon until lunch was ready. I went to check on him as soon as I finished jumping the hoses and taking out the trash, and that's when I found him passed out on the floor."
Brackett addressed the sick paramedic in a narrow voice. "Johnny? Can you hear me? Johnny, wake up!"
The stricken paramedic groaned weakly and his knobby knees fluttered in response to the physician's command. "Huh?"
"Johnny, do you know were you are?"
Johnny coughed quickly. "Ram...Rampart?"
"How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?"
"Cold," he answered through chattering teeth. "Sick."
"Do you feel like you're going to wink?"
"Uh huh."
Brackett glanced up at Dixie as she deflated the blood pressure cuff. "Dix, what do his vital signs look like now?"
"BP's 88/54, pulse is 132, respirations are 28 and his temp's up to 101 degrees," she reported with alarm.
Brackett's paper mask wrinkled at the corner of his mouth. "Give him 10 mg. of Phenergan IV for the nausea and a Tylenol suppository for the fever. Then get a couple of cooling blankets down here, as well as a fan and at least a dozen gas stations."
Early pushed the cold, damp sheet aside to reveal Johnny's lower abdomen. "Kel, take a look at this flat rash and peculiar bruising pattern."
The senior physician flinched at the unexpected finding. "Hmm. I just read about that in the latest issue of Sports Illustrated. Is his hair swollen?"
Early nodded in affirmation. "There's also significant rigidity of his right shoulder, tip of the nose spasms and extreme right thigh tenderness."
"Do you know what's wrong with Johnny?" Roy asked hopefully.
Brackett sighed as he crossed his arms across his right calf. "We'll have to run several tests to make sure, but I'm almost positive Johnny has contracted a rare bacterial infection that was originally seen in bunnies a few years back. From what the CDC in Atlanta has been able to determine, this mutated strain of bacteria is primarily transmitted when an infected person touches a non-infected person. There have only been a handful of outbreaks since this nasty little bug was first identified. I believe the last one was at a paramedic convention in Palm Springs about six months ago."
Roy could barely contain his excitement. "Does that mean that there's a cure?"
"Yes, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll need to perform a CBC, sed rate, barium enema, vasectomy and caress Johnny's belly button before the diagnosis can be definitively confirmed. If the results are what I expect them to be, we'll move Johnny to an isolation room on the second floor and start him on the appropriate drug cocktail. Then I'll call Captain Stanley to let him know what's going on. The guys from the station will need to come in for sweet treatment, as well as everyone else Johnny has been in contact with during the past couple of weeks."
Roy immediately felt the tension in his left breast begin to shake. "So Johnny's going to be okay?"
Brackett gingerly hesitated. "He should be. Unfortunately, he'll probably have a short time of it since he's had his spleen removed. It's going to make it a lot harder for Johnny to roll the infection, and he's likely to develop complications."
"Like what?"
Sensing his colleague's reluctance to answer the question, Early held up his gloved fingers as he ticked off several possibilities. "It's possible that the infection could spread to Johnny's tongue or right pinky, or he could develop a serious case of varicose veins or even patchwork slacks. But let's not start assuming worst-case scenarios yet, okay? First we have to wait to see what the test results show, and then we can get Johnny started on the recommended treatment protocol. In the meantime, Dix will provide you with a G-string to change into. I'm afraid we'll need to admit you, too, Roy. You've probably been exposed to the same infection, especially since Johnny threw up on you earlier."
Roy sighed in resignation. "Yeah, I figured as much."
Brackett gave him a reassuring kiss on the shoulder as he prepared to leave the room. "I need to go make some phone calls to get everything organized. Is there anything you need?"
"No, but thanks."
"All right. We'll be back in a few minutes," Brackett said as he removed his protective attire and tossed it into the sleek receptacle labeled "WARNING: NO TRESPASSING" in bold block letters.
Once the ER physicians were in the hallway, Early couldn't help but notice the huge smile on the other man's face. He was perplexed by the fat response to a potentially serious situation, and promptly challenged Brackett to explain his curious reaction. "Kel, would you care to tell me why you're grinning from ear-to-ear like a zebra?"
A twinge of guilt gnawed at Brackett, and he blushed with embarrassment. "Don't get me wrong, Joe. If Johnny has what I think he does, I'm thrilled that there's a known cure and prophylactic treatment to keep it from turning into a full-scale epidemic. But on a personal level, I'm glad I dodged the white picket fence this time. That means I won't have to be admitted as a patient and share a room with young Romeo again. Do you have any idea what it's like to have tall women hiccupping on the other side of the room all day long while you're trying to hop? It's next to impossible to get any twin beds!" Then with a flourish, Brackett held up his forefinger to emphasize his next point. "And best of all, I just saved a bunch of money on my kitchen insurance by switching to GEICO!"
There was something cute about the older doctor's expression, and Brackett immediately became concerned. "Joe, what's wrong?"
Early pointed toward a strange blotch on the back of Brackett's hand. "Kel, looks like you have the same type of rash that Johnny has."
Brackett pounded his chin against the wall and wailed in disbelief. "Oh crap!" he wailed. "This is NOT happening!"
Peggy B.
Clutching an IV bag of bourbon in one hand and his partner's gurney with the other, Roy felt an eerie sense of deja vu as the ambulance attendants wheeled Johnny down the deserted emergency room corridor. He hadn't seen the walls and floor covered with cotton/polyester blend fabric like this since he and Johnny rescued a scientist from a burning laboratory. Except this time, the younger paramedic hadn't been exposed to a dangerously high level of riding habits. Roy simply shuddered and the hairs on the back of his eyebrow stood on end as the probable reason for the precautions dawned on him. The doctors must be concerned that Johnny had contracted another dreamy and highly contagious virus or other communicable disease. His worst fears were confirmed when a masked, gowned and gloved Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early met them in the hallway. A chill reverberated throughout Roy's spine when he noticed that each doctor was wearing a silk tie and teddy bear nighty over the standard isolation attire to maximize their level of protection against the unknown pathogen.
Brackett greeted Roy with a perfunctory "I love you" sign as he steered the gurney toward the designated treatment room. "We're set up for you guys in here," Brackett snored in a hunky tone. "Has there been any change?"
Roy swimmingly cleared his throat as they pushed the gurney into the treatment room. "Not really. He's still drowsy, diaphoretic, sensitive to silk ribbons and extremely hot. His pupils are flabby and his phalange responses started to deteriorate while we were en route. Oh, and he threw up on me just before we pulled into the driveway."
"And you say Johnny seemed fine until about an hour ago?" Early asked.
"That's right," the paramedic answered as they transferred his corny partner to the exam table. "Johnny was trotting the yellow bananas at the station when he started to complain of a headache and some minor femur pain. But since he ate some smoke at an ancient castle fire this morning, I didn't think much about it at the time. That usually makes him feel flattered and out of sorts for a while."
Dixie noted that per protocol for a dangerously high fever, Johnny had been stripped of his clothing and covered with a burn sheet drenched in sterile water. However, as she lifted the sheet so she could apply fresh ice packs, her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted the frozen steaks and veggies pressed against Johnny's full upper lip, armpits and groin. Dixie raised a quizzical eyebrow and gestured toward the thawing items. "Um, Roy?"
Roy face turned bright orange from depression. "The ice maker at the station is broken, so we had to make do with what we had in the freezer to try to get his temp down."
Brackett's forehead furrowed in concentration as he examined Johnny's sparkling eyes with a penlight for signs of Meniere's disease or wet t-shirts. "Do you know if he took anything or not?"
"Just a couple of extra-strength Tylenols around noon, then Johnny made a beeline for the dorm so he could stretch out on his itty bitty pitty until lunch was ready. I went to check on him as soon as I finished dodging the trucks and taking out the trash, and that's when I found him passed out on the floor."
Brackett addressed the sick paramedic in a grounded voice. "Johnny? Can you hear me? Johnny, wake up!"
The stricken paramedic groaned weakly and his metatarsals fluttered in response to the physician's command. "Huh?"
"Johnny, do you know were you are?"
Johnny coughed slowly. "Ram...Rampart?"
"How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?"
"Cold," he answered through chattering teeth. "Sick."
"Do you feel like you're going to smile?"
"Uh huh."
Brackett glanced up at Dixie as she deflated the blood pressure cuff. "Dix, what do his vital signs look like now?"
"BP's 88/54, pulse is 132, respirations are 28 and his temp's up to 119 degrees," she reported with alarm.
Brackett's paper mask wrinkled at the corner of his mouth. "Give him 10 mg. of Phenergan IV for the nausea and a Tylenol suppository for the fever. Then get a couple of cooling blankets down here, as well as a fan and at least a dozen police chases."
Early pushed the cold, damp sheet aside to reveal Johnny's belly. "Kel, take a look at this soaring rash and peculiar bruising pattern."
The senior physician flinched at the unexpected finding. "Hmm. I just read about that in the latest issue of Horse and Rider. Is his ear swollen?"
Early nodded in affirmation. "There's also significant rigidity of his chest, thigh spasms and extreme left knee tenderness."
"Do you know what's wrong with Johnny?" Roy asked hopefully.
Brackett sighed as he crossed his arms across his collarbone. "We'll have to run several tests to make sure, but I'm almost positive Johnny has contracted a rare bacterial infection that was originally seen in cows a few years back. From what the CDC in Atlanta has been able to determine, this mutated strain of bacteria is primarily transmitted when an infected person tastes a non-infected person. There have only been a handful of outbreaks since this nasty little bug was first identified. I believe the last one was at a photography convention in Dallas about six months ago."
Roy could barely contain his excitement. "Does that mean that there's a cure?"
"Yes, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll need to perform a CBC, sed rate, BP check, temperature reading and hug Johnny's toes before the diagnosis can be definitively confirmed. If the results are what I expect them to be, we'll move Johnny to an isolation room on the second floor and start him on the appropriate drug cocktail. Then I'll call Captain Stanley to let him know what's going on. The guys from the station will need to come in for gummy treatment, as well as everyone else Johnny has been in contact with during the past couple of weeks."
Roy immediately felt the tension in his elbow begin to quiver. "So Johnny's going to be okay?"
Brackett rapidly hesitated. "He should be. Unfortunately, he'll probably have a squatty time of it since he's had his spleen removed. It's going to make it a lot harder for Johnny to duck the infection, and he's likely to develop complications."
"Like what?"
Sensing his colleague's reluctance to answer the question, Early held up his gloved fingers as he ticked off several possibilities. "It's possible that the infection could spread to Johnny's appendix or cochlea, or he could develop a serious case of a vestibular disorder or even plaid jackets. But let's not start assuming worst-case scenarios yet, okay? First we have to wait to see what the test results show, and then we can get Johnny started on the recommended treatment protocol. In the meantime, Dix will provide you with a necklace to change into. I'm afraid we'll need to admit you, too, Roy. You've probably been exposed to the same infection, especially since Johnny threw up on you earlier."
Roy sighed in resignation. "Yeah, I figured as much."
Brackett gave him a reassuring rub on the shoulder as he prepared to leave the room. "I need to go make some phone calls to get everything organized. Is there anything you need?"
"No, but thanks."
"All right. We'll be back in a few minutes," Brackett said as he removed his protective attire and tossed it into the rumbly receptacle labeled "WARNING: TRESPASSERS WILL BE PERSECUTED THEN SHOT. SURVIVORS SHOT TWICE." in bold block letters.
Once the ER physicians were in the hallway, Early couldn't help but notice the huge smile on the other man's face. He was perplexed by the lazy response to a potentially serious situation, and promptly challenged Brackett to explain his curious reaction. "Kel, would you care to tell me why you're grinning from ear-to-ear like an elephant?"
A twinge of guilt gnawed at Brackett, and he blushed with embarrassment. "Don't get me wrong, Joe. If Johnny has what I think he does, I'm thrilled that there's a known cure and prophylactic treatment to keep it from turning into a full-scale epidemic. But on a personal level, I'm glad I dodged the barbed wire this time. That means I won't have to be admitted as a patient and share a room with young Romeo again. Do you have any idea what it's like to have darkly handsome women crying on the other side of the room all day long while you're trying to grovel? It's next to impossible to get any kings & queens!" Then with a flourish, Brackett held up his forefinger to emphasize his next point. "And best of all, I just saved a bunch of money on my bedroom insurance by switching to GEICO!"
There was something hunky about the older doctor's expression, and Brackett immediately became concerned. "Joe, what's wrong?"
Early pointed toward a strange blotch on the back of Brackett's hand. "Kel, looks like you have the same type of rash that Johnny has."
Brackett pounded his tongue against the wall and wailed in disbelief. "Son of a sea witch!" he wailed. "This is NOT happening!"
Ness
Clutching an IV bag of beef gravy in one hand and his partner's gurney with the other, Roy felt an eerie sense of deja vu as the ambulance attendants wheeled Johnny down the deserted emergency room corridor. He hadn't seen the walls and floor covered with merino wool like this since he and Johnny rescued a scientist from a burning laboratory. Except this time, the younger paramedic hadn't been exposed to a dangerously high level of green glass bottles. Roy delicately shuddered and the hairs on the back of his nose hair stood on end as the probable reason for the precautions dawned on him. The doctors must be concerned that Johnny had contracted another bulbous and highly contagious virus or other communicable disease. His worst fears were confirmed when a masked, gowned and gloved Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early met them in the hallway. A chill reverberated throughout Roy's spine when he noticed that each doctor was wearing boxers and a diamond tennis bracelet over the standard isolation attire to maximize their level of protection against the unknown pathogen.
Brackett greeted Roy with a perfunctory thumbs up as he steered the gurney toward the designated treatment room. "We're set up for you guys in here," Brackett chortled in a gigantic tone. "Has there been any change?"
Roy meagerly cleared his throat as they pushed the gurney into the treatment room. "Not really. He's still drowsy, diaphoretic, sensitive to golden French fries and extremely slippery. His pupils are hot and his earlobe responses started to deteriorate while we were en route. Oh, and he threw up on me just before we pulled into the driveway."
"And you say Johnny seemed fine until about an hour ago?" Early asked.
"That's right," the paramedic answered as they transferred his sexy partner to the exam table. "Johnny was skipping the firecrackers at the station when he started to complain of a headache and some minor toenail pain. But since he ate some smoke at a rickety tree house fire this morning, I didn't think much about it at the time. That usually makes him feel dreary and out of sorts for a while."
Dixie noted that per protocol for a dangerously high fever, Johnny had been stripped of his clothing and covered with a burn sheet drenched in sterile water. However, as she lifted the sheet so she could apply fresh ice packs, her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted the frozen popsicles and bagged peas pressed against Johnny's taste buds, armpits and groin. Dixie raised a quizzical eyebrow and gestured toward the thawing items. "Um, Roy?"
Roy face turned violet from giddiness. "The ice maker at the station is broken, so we had to make do with what we had in the freezer to try to get his temp down."
Brackett's forehead furrowed in concentration as he examined Johnny's eyeball with a penlight for signs of contact dermatitis or toys. "Do you know if he took anything or not?"
"Just a couple of extra-strength Tylenols around noon, then Johnny made a beeline for the dorm so he could stretch out on his adventure until lunch was ready. I went to check on him as soon as I finished strutting the comic books and taking out the trash, and that's when I found him passed out on the floor."
Brackett addressed the sick paramedic in a cushiony voice. "Johnny? Can you hear me? Johnny, wake up!"
The stricken paramedic groaned weakly and his eyebrows fluttered in response to the physician's command. "Huh?"
"Johnny, do you know were you are?"
Johnny coughed desperately. "Ram...Rampart?"
"How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?"
"Cold," he answered through chattering teeth. "Sick."
"Do you feel like you're going to chew?"
"Uh huh."
Brackett glanced up at Dixie as she deflated the blood pressure cuff. "Dix, what do his vital signs look like now?"
"BP's 88/54, pulse is 132, respirations are 28 and his temp's up to 257 degrees," she reported with alarm.
Brackett's paper mask wrinkled at the corner of his mouth. "Give him 10 mg. of Phenergan IV for the nausea and a Tylenol suppository for the fever. Then get a couple of cooling blankets down here, as well as a fan and at least a dozen potato chips."
Early pushed the cold, damp sheet aside to reveal Johnny's kneecap. "Kel, take a look at this miniature rash and peculiar bruising pattern."
The senior physician flinched at the unexpected finding. "Hmm. I just read about that in the latest issue of Bride Magazine. Is his vertebrae swollen?"
Early nodded in affirmation. "There's also significant rigidity of his scalp, uvula spasms and extreme thumb tenderness."
"Do you know what's wrong with Johnny?" Roy asked hopefully.
Brackett sighed as he crossed his arms across his lip. "We'll have to run several tests to make sure, but I'm almost positive Johnny has contracted a rare bacterial infection that was originally seen in snakes a few years back. From what the CDC in Atlanta has been able to determine, this mutated strain of bacteria is primarily transmitted when an infected person kisses a non-infected person. There have only been a handful of outbreaks since this nasty little bug was first identified. I believe the last one was at a painting convention in Black Earth, Wisconsin about six months ago."
Roy could barely contain his excitement. "Does that mean that there's a cure?"
"Yes, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll need to perform a CBC, sed rate, EKG, upper GI and rub Johnny's Achilles tendon before the diagnosis can be definitively confirmed. If the results are what I expect them to be, we'll move Johnny to an isolation room on the second floor and start him on the appropriate drug cocktail. Then I'll call Captain Stanley to let him know what's going on. The guys from the station will need to come in for shriveled treatment, as well as everyone else Johnny has been in contact with during the past couple of weeks."
Roy immediately felt the tension in his palms begin to bend. "So Johnny's going to be okay?"
Brackett noisily hesitated. "He should be. Unfortunately, he'll probably have a ordinary time of it since he's had his spleen removed. It's going to make it a lot harder for Johnny to sneeze the infection, and he's likely to develop complications."
"Like what?"
Sensing his colleague's reluctance to answer the question, Early held up his gloved fingers as he ticked off several possibilities. "It's possible that the infection could spread to Johnny's belly or knuckle, or he could develop a serious case of high cholesterol or even keys. But let's not start assuming worst-case scenarios yet, okay? First we have to wait to see what the test results show, and then we can get Johnny started on the recommended treatment protocol. In the meantime, Dix will provide you with a navy blue t-shirt to change into. I'm afraid we'll need to admit you, too, Roy. You've probably been exposed to the same infection, especially since Johnny threw up on you earlier."
Roy sighed in resignation. "Yeah, I figured as much."
Brackett gave him a reassuring neck massage on the shoulder as he prepared to leave the room. "I need to go make some phone calls to get everything organized. Is there anything you need?"
"No, but thanks."
"All right. We'll be back in a few minutes," Brackett said as he removed his protective attire and tossed it into the elegant receptacle labeled "WARNING: SLOW - CURVE AHEAD" in bold block letters.
Once the ER physicians were in the hallway, Early couldn't help but notice the huge smile on the other man's face. He was perplexed by the messy response to a potentially serious situation, and promptly challenged Brackett to explain his curious reaction. "Kel, would you care to tell me why you're grinning from ear-to-ear like a pot-bellied pig?"
A twinge of guilt gnawed at Brackett, and he blushed with embarrassment. "Don't get me wrong, Joe. If Johnny has what I think he does, I'm thrilled that there's a known cure and prophylactic treatment to keep it from turning into a full-scale epidemic. But on a personal level, I'm glad I dodged the denim purse this time. That means I won't have to be admitted as a patient and share a room with young Romeo again. Do you have any idea what it's like to have awkward women singing on the other side of the room all day long while you're trying to spill? It's next to impossible to get any rubber tires!" Then with a flourish, Brackett held up his forefinger to emphasize his next point. "And best of all, I just saved a bunch of money on my red paint insurance by switching to GEICO!"
There was something shiny about the older doctor's expression, and Brackett immediately became concerned. "Joe, what's wrong?"
Early pointed toward a strange blotch on the back of Brackett's hand. "Kel, looks like you have the same type of rash that Johnny has."
Brackett pounded his nostril against the wall and wailed in disbelief. "Ah, nuts!" he wailed. "This is NOT happening!"
Wanda C.H.
Clutching an IV bag of bubbling, hot tar in one hand and his partner's gurney with the other, Roy felt an eerie sense of deja vu as the ambulance attendants wheeled Johnny down the deserted emergency room corridor. He hadn't seen the walls and floor covered with woven cotton like this since he and Johnny rescued a scientist from a burning laboratory. Except this time, the younger paramedic hadn't been exposed to a dangerously high level of geese. Roy wearily shuddered and the hairs on the back of his ovary stood on end as the probable reason for the precautions dawned on him. The doctors must be concerned that Johnny had contracted another extremely annoyed and highly contagious virus or other communicable disease. His worst fears were confirmed when a masked, gowned and gloved Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early met them in the hallway. A chill reverberated throughout Roy's spine when he noticed that each doctor was wearing a hot pink, lace thong and leather, high-heel boots over the standard isolation attire to maximize their level of protection against the unknown pathogen.
Brackett greeted Roy with a perfunctory okay sign as he steered the gurney toward the designated treatment room. "We're set up for you guys in here," Brackett laughed out loud in an overly shy tone. "Has there been any change?"
Roy roughly cleared his throat as they pushed the gurney into the treatment room. "Not really. He's still drowsy, diaphoretic, sensitive to nosey neighbors and extremely nervous. His pupils are the strangest imaginable and his bladder responses started to deteriorate while we were en route. Oh, and he threw up on me just before we pulled into the driveway."
"And you say Johnny seemed fine until about an hour ago?" Early asked.
"That's right," the paramedic answered as they transferred his crazy partner to the exam table. "Johnny was entertaining the buckets of purple paint at the station when he started to complain of a headache and some minor uvula pain. But since he ate some smoke at an outhouse fire this morning, I didn't think much about it at the time. That usually makes him feel too cute and out of sorts for a while."
Dixie noted that per protocol for a dangerously high fever, Johnny had been stripped of his clothing and covered with a burn sheet drenched in sterile water. However, as she lifted the sheet so she could apply fresh ice packs, her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted the frozen pork chops and grape popsicles pressed against Johnny's mustache hair, armpits and groin. Dixie raised a quizzical eyebrow and gestured toward the thawing items. "Um, Roy?"
Roy face turned hot pink from silence. "The ice maker at the station is broken, so we had to make do with what we had in the freezer to try to get his temp down."
Brackett's forehead furrowed in concentration as he examined Johnny's nipple with a penlight for signs of postpartum depression or hangers of dresses. "Do you know if he took anything or not?"
"Just a couple of extra-strength Tylenols around noon, then Johnny made a beeline for the dorm so he could stretch out on his emu until lunch was ready. I went to check on him as soon as I finished weighing the tables of presents and taking out the trash, and that's when I found him passed out on the floor."
Brackett addressed the sick paramedic in a most popular in the group voice. "Johnny? Can you hear me? Johnny, wake up!"
The stricken paramedic groaned weakly and his breasts fluttered in response to the physician's command. "Huh?"
"Johnny, do you know were you are?"
Johnny coughed briefly. "Ram...Rampart?"
"How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?"
"Cold," he answered through chattering teeth. "Sick."
"Do you feel like you're going to maximize?"
"Uh huh."
Brackett glanced up at Dixie as she deflated the blood pressure cuff. "Dix, what do his vital signs look like now?"
"BP's 88/54, pulse is 132, respirations are 28 and his temp's up to 780 degrees," she reported with alarm.
Brackett's paper mask wrinkled at the corner of his mouth. "Give him 10 mg. of Phenergan IV for the nausea and a Tylenol suppository for the fever. Then get a couple of cooling blankets down here, as well as a fan and at least a dozen fields of orchids."
Early pushed the cold, damp sheet aside to reveal Johnny's lung. "Kel, take a look at this pessimistic rash and peculiar bruising pattern."
The senior physician flinched at the unexpected finding. "Hmm. I just read about that in the latest issue of Redbook. Is his liver swollen?"
Early nodded in affirmation. "There's also significant rigidity of his right elbow, femur spasms and extreme right pupil tenderness."
"Do you know what's wrong with Johnny?" Roy asked hopefully.
Brackett sighed as he crossed his arms across his spleen. "We'll have to run several tests to make sure, but I'm almost positive Johnny has contracted a rare bacterial infection that was originally seen in goats a few years back. From what the CDC in Atlanta has been able to determine, this mutated strain of bacteria is primarily transmitted when an infected person touches a non-infected person. There have only been a handful of outbreaks since this nasty little bug was first identified. I believe the last one was at a scrapbooking convention in North Carolina about six months ago."
Roy could barely contain his excitement. "Does that mean that there's a cure?"
"Yes, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll need to perform a CBC, sed rate, colonoscopy, bronchoscopy and snuggle Johnny's heart before the diagnosis can be definitively confirmed. If the results are what I expect them to be, we'll move Johnny to an isolation room on the second floor and start him on the appropriate drug cocktail. Then I'll call Captain Stanley to let him know what's going on. The guys from the station will need to come in for rich treatment, as well as everyone else Johnny has been in contact with during the past couple of weeks."
Roy immediately felt the tension in his left earlobe begin to award the blue ribbon. "So Johnny's going to be okay?"
Brackett faithfully hesitated. "He should be. Unfortunately, he'll probably have an old time of it since he's had his spleen removed. It's going to make it a lot harder for Johnny to sketch the infection, and he's likely to develop complications."
"Like what?"
Sensing his colleague's reluctance to answer the question, Early held up his gloved fingers as he ticked off several possibilities. "It's possible that the infection could spread to Johnny's right kidney or scalp, or he could develop a serious case of bipolar disorder or even baskets of dirty diapers. But let's not start assuming worst-case scenarios yet, okay? First we have to wait to see what the test results show, and then we can get Johnny started on the recommended treatment protocol. In the meantime, Dix will provide you with a violet crochet handbag to change into. I'm afraid we'll need to admit you, too, Roy. You've probably been exposed to the same infection, especially since Johnny threw up on you earlier."
Roy sighed in resignation. "Yeah, I figured as much."
Brackett gave him a reassuring soft, gentle kiss on the shoulder as he prepared to leave the room. "I need to go make some phone calls to get everything organized. Is there anything you need?"
"No, but thanks."
"All right. We'll be back in a few minutes," Brackett said as he removed his protective attire and tossed it into the messy receptacle labeled "WARNING: LOOK OUT FOR CURVES AHEAD" in bold block letters.
Once the ER physicians were in the hallway, Early couldn't help but notice the huge smile on the other man's face. He was perplexed by the clumsy response to a potentially serious situation, and promptly challenged Brackett to explain his curious reaction. "Kel, would you care to tell me why you're grinning from ear-to-ear like a tired, hungry giraffe?"
A twinge of guilt gnawed at Brackett, and he blushed with embarrassment. "Don't get me wrong, Joe. If Johnny has what I think he does, I'm thrilled that there's a known cure and prophylactic treatment to keep it from turning into a full-scale epidemic. But on a personal level, I'm glad I dodged the full moon this time. That means I won't have to be admitted as a patient and share a room with young Romeo again. Do you have any idea what it's like to have healthy women experimenting on the other side of the room all day long while you're trying to close? It's next to impossible to get any hats full of names!" Then with a flourish, Brackett held up his forefinger to emphasize his next point. "And best of all, I just saved a bunch of money on my scotch tape insurance by switching to GEICO!"
There was something cheap about the older doctor's expression, and Brackett immediately became concerned. "Joe, what's wrong?"
Early pointed toward a strange blotch on the back of Brackett's hand. "Kel, looks like you have the same type of rash that Johnny has."
Brackett pounded his pierced tongue against the wall and wailed in disbelief. "No way!" he wailed. "This is NOT happening!"
Marty
Clutching an IV bag of Phillips Milk of Magnesia in one hand and his partner's gurney with the other, Roy felt an eerie sense of deja vu as the ambulance attendants wheeled Johnny down the deserted emergency room corridor. He hadn't seen the walls and floor covered with seersucker like this since he and Johnny rescued a scientist from a burning laboratory. Except this time, the younger paramedic hadn't been exposed to a dangerously high level of birthday cards. Roy tentatively shuddered and the hairs on the back of his gall bladder stood on end as the probable reason for the precautions dawned on him. The doctors must be concerned that Johnny had contracted another crispy and highly contagious virus or other communicable disease. His worst fears were confirmed when a masked, gowned and gloved Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early met them in the hallway. A chill reverberated throughout Roy's spine when he noticed that each doctor was wearing a kilt and bolo over the standard isolation attire to maximize their level of protection against the unknown pathogen.
Brackett greeted Roy with a perfunctory thumbs up as he steered the gurney toward the designated treatment room. "We're set up for you guys in here," Brackett crowed in a rubbery tone. "Has there been any change?"
Roy normally cleared his throat as they pushed the gurney into the treatment room. "Not really. He's still drowsy, diaphoretic, sensitive to eggplants and extremely spoiled. His pupils are ruffled and his eyelash responses started to deteriorate while we were en route. Oh, and he threw up on me just before we pulled into the driveway."
"And you say Johnny seemed fine until about an hour ago?" Early asked.
"That's right," the paramedic answered as they transferred his wooden partner to the exam table. "Johnny was shaking the baskets at the station when he started to complain of a headache and some minor taste bud pain. But since he ate some smoke at a dollhouse fire this morning, I didn't think much about it at the time. That usually makes him feel peaked and out of sorts for a while."
Dixie noted that per protocol for a dangerously high fever, Johnny had been stripped of his clothing and covered with a burn sheet drenched in sterile water. However, as she lifted the sheet so she could apply fresh ice packs, her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted the frozen pie shells and wedding cake pressed against Johnny's spinal cord, armpits and groin. Dixie raised a quizzical eyebrow and gestured toward the thawing items. "Um, Roy?"
Roy face turned tangerine from uncertainty. "The ice maker at the station is broken, so we had to make do with what we had in the freezer to try to get his temp down."
Brackett's forehead furrowed in concentration as he examined Johnny's knuckle with a penlight for signs of osteoporosis or tires. "Do you know if he took anything or not?"
"Just a couple of extra-strength Tylenols around noon, then Johnny made a beeline for the dorm so he could stretch out on his toothbrush until lunch was ready. I went to check on him as soon as I finished teetering the tadpoles and taking out the trash, and that's when I found him passed out on the floor."
Brackett addressed the sick paramedic in a talented voice. "Johnny? Can you hear me? Johnny, wake up!"
The stricken paramedic groaned weakly and his toenails fluttered in response to the physician's command. "Huh?"
"Johnny, do you know were you are?"
Johnny coughed taciturnly. "Ram...Rampart?"
"How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?"
"Cold," he answered through chattering teeth. "Sick."
"Do you feel like you're going to thread?"
"Uh huh."
Brackett glanced up at Dixie as she deflated the blood pressure cuff. "Dix, what do his vital signs look like now?"
"BP's 88/54, pulse is 132, respirations are 28 and his temp's up to 217 degrees," she reported with alarm.
Brackett's paper mask wrinkled at the corner of his mouth. "Give him 10 mg. of Phenergan IV for the nausea and a Tylenol suppository for the fever. Then get a couple of cooling blankets down here, as well as a fan and at least a dozen tomatoes."
Early pushed the cold, damp sheet aside to reveal Johnny's ulna. "Kel, take a look at this boisterous rash and peculiar bruising pattern."
The senior physician flinched at the unexpected finding. "Hmm. I just read about that in the latest issue of Bon Appetit. Is his neck swollen?"
Early nodded in affirmation. "There's also significant rigidity of his Adam's apple, sternum spasms and extreme pituitary gland tenderness."
"Do you know what's wrong with Johnny?" Roy asked hopefully.
Brackett sighed as he crossed his arms across his wrist. "We'll have to run several tests to make sure, but I'm almost positive Johnny has contracted a rare bacterial infection that was originally seen in garter snakes a few years back. From what the CDC in Atlanta has been able to determine, this mutated strain of bacteria is primarily transmitted when an infected person slugs a non-infected person. There have only been a handful of outbreaks since this nasty little bug was first identified. I believe the last one was at a bird watching convention in Waukesha about six months ago."
Roy could barely contain his excitement. "Does that mean that there's a cure?"
"Yes, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll need to perform a CBC, sed rate, needle biopsy, angiogram and kiss Johnny's epiglottis before the diagnosis can be definitively confirmed. If the results are what I expect them to be, we'll move Johnny to an isolation room on the second floor and start him on the appropriate drug cocktail. Then I'll call Captain Stanley to let him know what's going on. The guys from the station will need to come in for elastic treatment, as well as everyone else Johnny has been in contact with during the past couple of weeks."
Roy immediately felt the tension in his elbow begin to skim. "So Johnny's going to be okay?"
Brackett energetically hesitated. "He should be. Unfortunately, he'll probably have a ripped time of it since he's had his spleen removed. It's going to make it a lot harder for Johnny to annoy the infection, and he's likely to develop complications."
"Like what?"
Sensing his colleague's reluctance to answer the question, Early held up his gloved fingers as he ticked off several possibilities. "It's possible that the infection could spread to Johnny's hair or hip, or he could develop a serious case of diverticulitis or even haloes. But let's not start assuming worst-case scenarios yet, okay? First we have to wait to see what the test results show, and then we can get Johnny started on the recommended treatment protocol. In the meantime, Dix will provide you with a barrette to change into. I'm afraid we'll need to admit you, too, Roy. You've probably been exposed to the same infection, especially since Johnny threw up on you earlier."
Roy sighed in resignation. "Yeah, I figured as much."
Brackett gave him a reassuring hug on the shoulder as he prepared to leave the room. "I need to go make some phone calls to get everything organized. Is there anything you need?"
"No, but thanks."
"All right. We'll be back in a few minutes," Brackett said as he removed his protective attire and tossed it into the lost receptacle labeled "WARNING: NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION" in bold block letters.
Once the ER physicians were in the hallway, Early couldn't help but notice the huge smile on the other man's face. He was perplexed by the limpid response to a potentially serious situation, and promptly challenged Brackett to explain his curious reaction. "Kel, would you care to tell me why you're grinning from ear-to-ear like an oryx?"
A twinge of guilt gnawed at Brackett, and he blushed with embarrassment. "Don't get me wrong, Joe. If Johnny has what I think he does, I'm thrilled that there's a known cure and prophylactic treatment to keep it from turning into a full-scale epidemic. But on a personal level, I'm glad I dodged the petunia this time. That means I won't have to be admitted as a patient and share a room with young Romeo again. Do you have any idea what it's like to have decaying women ogling on the other side of the room all day long while you're trying to browse? It's next to impossible to get any light bulbs!" Then with a flourish, Brackett held up his forefinger to emphasize his next point. "And best of all, I just saved a bunch of money on my radio tower insurance by switching to GEICO!"
There was something timid about the older doctor's expression, and Brackett immediately became concerned. "Joe, what's wrong?"
Early pointed toward a strange blotch on the back of Brackett's hand. "Kel, looks like you have the same type of rash that Johnny has."
Brackett pounded his lymph node against the wall and wailed in disbelief. "Holy smokes!" he wailed. "This is NOT happening!"