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Disclaimer: Everyone knows they belong to Mark VII Limited and Universal Television, and that I'm in need of serious therapy for continuing to borrow them for my own bizarre purposes.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Becca, for graciously allowing me to take advantage of your vast medical expertise. Your comments and suggestions on this project were invaluable and greatly appreciated.
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Roy sighed as he and his partner rode back to Station 51 after their second call of the shift. "I'm telling you Johnny, it was a zoo this weekend! First the water heater broke Saturday morning, and Joanne woke up with a wicked headache and stayed in bed all day. Chris had a Little League game, and Jenny started crying because she forgot to tell me she had to bring cupcakes to her Brownie meeting, which happened to be at the same time Chris needed to be at the baseball field. Joanne was feeling better on Sunday, but we decided to skip church anyway. Then Jenny decided to surprise us and bring us breakfast in bed, but she dropped the jelly jar on the kitchen floor and wound up cutting her foot. We had to take her to Rampart to have it stitched up. If that wasn't enough..."
His frustrated tirade was abruptly cut short by Johnny's muffled giggles.
"What's so funny?"
"Sounds like you had a busy weekend."
"I did," Roy huffed. "Wait until you're married and have a family of your own. You'll see what I mean."
Johnny couldn't contain himself any longer. He shook his head in amusement as he laughed at his friend's predicament. "Nah, I prefer watching your family from a safe distance. There's never a dull moment."
The senior paramedic growled. "Sure. You'd rather see me go insane rather than risk stressing yourself out."
"What? You don't think single guys like me ever get stressed out?" Johnny asked as he splayed his hand across his chest. "I mean, who do you think takes care of me? I have to pay my bills, do my laundry, pick my uniforms up at the cleaners and buy groceries and all of that other stuff. You have a wife who handles all of the day-to-day details."
Thus far, he was not gaining any sympathy.
"Plus," he added dramatically, "you have no idea how stressful it is to constantly be rejected by young women. Do you remember how disastrously my last date ended?"
Despite himself, Roy felt a smile escape his lips. "We're discussing basic stress levels here, Johnny. Not martyrdom."
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Johnny woke up with a pounding headache. In preparing his 1040 Form, he discovered his withholding taxes had been incorrectly calculated for the previous year. Since the fire department had not deducted the proper amount from his paychecks, he would need to submit a check for $478 to the IRS by the 15th of the following month.
The timing could not be worse. Due to a change in management, the rent on his apartment would be increasing substantially when his lease renewed in two months, and Johnny could not afford the new cost. A move meant additional expenses: a security deposit, utility connection fees, etc. To add insult to injury, the Rover needed a new transmission.
Realizing the throbbing pain in his head was not going away on its own, Johnny crawled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. He washed down a couple of aspirin with a glass of water and tried to fall back asleep.
The harsh ringing of the telephone soon awoke him from his restless slumber. He blearily glanced at the clock. It was 3:00 a.m. Who on earth could possibly be calling at this hour, and why?
"Hello?" he mumbled.
"Johnny?"
"Yeah. Who is this?"
It's me. It's Joey."
Johnny immediately sat upright in the bed. It was his younger cousin from Montana. He hadn't heard from him in years. The news must be bad, especially if he couldn't wait until a decent hour to call. "What's wrong?"
"Bud is in big trouble. He's been doing petty crimes to support his marijuana habit for the past year or so. He never hurt anyone. But two months ago he moved on to heroin, so he needed more money to stay high." Joey started crying.
"What happened?" Johnny inquired uneasily.
"Tonight he broke into some old lady's house. He figured she'd have some jewelry or electronics he could steal. Anyway, he thought she was asleep. When he saw her reach for the telephone, he freaked." His cousin struggled to continue. "Oh, Johnny. Bud nearly beat her to death with a lamp!"
"Oh, God!"
Joey hesitantly said, "The court is going to appoint a lawyer in the morning. The family is taking up a collection to pay for Aunt Kitty's plane fare and expenses. Can we count you in?"
He tiredly rubbed his eyes. "Joey, I don't have a lot of money right now."
"But we're counting on you, Johnny. You know how it is on the reservation. Most of the folks have already blown their government money on alcohol and gambling and stuff. They won't have any more until the first of the month. Aunt Kitty needs a plane ticket now."
Johnny felt pulled in different directions. He felt a sense of moral obligation to help his aunt in her hour of need as a way of honoring the spirit of his deceased mother. Aunt Kitty tried so hard to raise Bud on her own over the past few years. After her abusive husband abandoned them, she often worked two or three jobs. Unfortunately, that arrangement usually left Bud unsupervised, so she eventually left him in the care of relatives to find better paying work in another city, hoping to send for him as soon as she was able. Sadly, it seemed her tireless efforts were in vain since her adored only child was currently in jail facing serious charges.
On the other hand, Johnny was a little angry that Joey had called. If this dilemma didn't involve money, would anyone from his family have bothered to get in touch with him? Johnny briefly reflected on his childhood experiences on the reservation. Like many of the children who lived there, he was all too familiar with the effects of alcoholism and domestic abuse. But there was something about Johnny that set him apart from his community; he was half white. They were eager to let him know he would never be completely accepted. For years he bore their insults and physical violence until he could escape. At his first opportunity, he moved to Los Angeles and established a new life for himself. Now his past had come back to haunt him. The same people who wanted nothing to do with him were asking for his money, albeit on behalf of a beloved aunt. What should he do?
Joey's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Johnny, are you still there?"
"Yeah, I'm thinking. Do you still live at the same place?"
"Uh huh."
"Well, I can afford to wire a hundred dollars, but that's all," Johnny proposed.
His younger cousin whined, "But the plane ticket costs..."
"Joey, it's either a hundred bucks or nothing. If you can't raise enough money for airfare, maybe you can buy Aunt Kitty a bus ticket. I'm sorry. You caught me at a bad time."
A distinct grumble was heard on the other end of the phone. "All right. Thanks man."
Slightly pacified, Johnny responded, "Let me know how things go, okay?"
"You got it."
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Johnny impatiently noted the time on his watch. The next shift wouldn't relieve them for another hour, and the tension headache that had been plaguing him for days showed no sign of relenting. He poured himself a cup of coffee and located the bottle of aspirin in the pantry. The loud sound of the phone being slammed down on the receiver interrupted his actions.
A highly agitated Roy was clenching and unclenching his fists. "I can't believe this! This is the second time this month Chris has been sent home for fighting at school. And Joanne waits until now to call me! She's known about this since yesterday afternoon!" He spied Johnny about to place the aspirin into his mouth. "And what do you have a headache about?" he asked sharply.
The dark-haired man was taken aback by the sudden hostility. "I have a lot of things on my mind right now."
"Ooh, let me guess. You haven't figured out how to get some girl's phone number yet. Or you can't decide whether to cook hot dogs or hamburgers on your next shift. What do you know about responsibility? You're so immature. All you think about is having a good time. You don't have a care in the world."
Johnny's mouth opened as though he was going to respond, but for one of the few times in his life, words failed him. Instead, he dejectedly gazed at the floor.
The other men of A-Shift awkwardly observed the exchange. It was entirely out of character for Roy to vent his anger, and it was certainly not in Johnny's nature to miss an opportunity to defend himself.
There was something definitely wrong with this picture.
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In order to earn some extra money, Johnny had been working as much overtime as possible. Unfortunately, many of his basic household chores had gone woefully unattended. He decided to take advantage of this beautiful Saturday morning to atone for his neglect, and spent most of the day doing laundry, running errands and performing odd jobs around his apartment. Johnny was carrying two bags of groceries up the stairs when his landlady breathlessly chased after him.
"Mr. Gage, I've been searching for you all morning. Have you heard the news?"
A bad feeling gripped his stomach. "What news?"
"Your friend, the nice man who lives in the apartment downstairs, was killed by a drunk driver this morning."
Johnny instantly set his packages down on the landing. "Oh, man! I'm so sorry to hear that. Is his wife okay?"
The landlady nodded. "She wasn't in the accident. She was visiting her mother in Sacramento."
A lump formed in Johnny's throat. "You know, Tony was only a couple of years younger than me. He was so excited when Isabel got pregnant. Now his baby is going be born next month without a daddy."
"It's so tragic," the landlady agreed. "Mr. Morales was such a good man. He was on his way to pick up the baby's crib when he had the accident. He wanted to put it together and surprise his wife when she returned from her mother's. Now she'll be coming home to an empty apartment..." She suddenly began to sob convulsively.
Instinctively, Johnny wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug. "We need to be strong for Isabel. She's going to need us to help her through the tough days ahead."
Composing herself, the landlady wiped her eyes. "Yes, hon, you're absolutely right. I'm not going to be of much help if I'm a basket case myself, am I? My goodness, you need to put your groceries away before they spoil!"
Johnny had completely forgotten about the brown paper bags sitting on the stairs. As he picked them up, he looked at the Morales' apartment door with profound sadness.
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The paramedics barely returned from a run when Chet's voice boomed across the day room.
"Hey, Johnny! Some chick named Isabel called while you were out. She said the arrangements were for 2:00 tomorrow afternoon and she'd see you there."
He grimly accepted the news as Roy shot him an expression of utter annoyance. "It's not what you think," Johnny vehemently declared.
Roy snorted. "Do you think I'm that blind? I've watched your unsuccessful dating career too many years not to recognize the signs. If she's calling you at work, she's in the infatuation stage. Of course, we all know how the story ends. She'll dump you, you'll mope around for days or weeks until you see the next pretty face, and the process will start all over again."
A frustrated Johnny rubbed his aching temples. "Roy, did it ever occur to you...oh, never mind." He frantically rummaged through the pantry, searching for the bottle of aspirin. Repeating what was becoming an all too familiar routine, he washed them down with a gulp of coffee.
Soon afterward, he was troubled by an uncomfortable case of indigestion. Maybe he shouldn't have taken the pills on an empty stomach, he reasoned. Or perhaps it was the terrible thought of burying his friend tomorrow. His heart grieved for the young widow, and for the child who would never know its father.
An hour later, Johnny felt extremely nauseated. He raced to the latrine and promptly lost the meager contents of his stomach. As he flushed the toilet, he heard Roy's familiar footsteps.
"Are you all right Johnny?"
"Yeah, I guess something I ate didn't agree with me." Johnny leaned his head over the sink and splashed cold water on his face in a feeble attempt to revive himself.
"Johnny, I hate to impose, but my mother-in-law from hell is going to be paying us a visit soon..."
"Sorry, Pally, I'm not a Mafia hit man."
The senior paramedic laughed. "No, that's not what I meant, but it was a nice thought. Joanne has a honey-do list like you wouldn't believe, and I could use your help in getting some things done around the house before the hag's visit. Could you come over tomorrow and lend a hand?"
Johnny shuddered as he thought about his 2:00 obligation. "I have something planned for tomorrow afternoon, but I could be there about 5:30 or so."
Roy was visibly miffed. "Oh that's right. I forgot about Isabel."
"Well, do you want me to be there earlier? I could come over say about nine in the morning and leave around noon."
"No, 5:30 is fine."
He felt an irrational sense of guilt and thought he owed Roy an apology. "I'm sorry. Normally it wouldn't matter, but there are extenuating circumstances..."
"Put a sock in it. I don't want to hear your juvenile excuses. I've probably heard them all anyway. If you can't be at the house until 5:30, fine. I'll see you then." Roy abruptly turned away and headed toward the kitchen.
A queasy sensation summoned Johnny back to the latrine.
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Wearing his best suit, Johnny arrived at the DeSoto house promptly at the appointed time and rang the bell. Roy answered the door after a short delay. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."
A baffled Johnny replied, "I said I'd be here at 5:30."
"Yeah, I know, but I thought you had a date. I didn't realize she'd dump you this fast. We're eating dinner, do you want to join us?"
"No thanks, I don't feel like eating. I do need to change though." Johnny indicated the clothes on the hanger he held in his left hand.
"Sure, come on in. We can get started on cleaning out the garage as soon as you're done."
Fifteen minutes later, the men diligently set about their task. Roy initiated the conversation. "Did I tell you Chris has been suspended for a week?"
"No kidding? What for?"
"Fighting at school again. This is the third time this month. The school counselor has suggested we take him to a psychologist for what he calls 'his aggressive tendencies.'"
"Wow. What does Chris say about this?"
Roy sighed. "He said it wasn't his fault, that the older kids tried to steal his lunch money and he was simply trying to defend himself. But his teacher said Chris has been the one initiating the fights over petty slights. Money has been extremely tight lately. I don't see how we can afford another expense right now."
"Yeah, I understand what you mean," Johnny empathized.
"Do you really? What does a bachelor understand about the responsibilities of family life?"
"Roy, even single guys have their share of problems. You wouldn't believe the stuff that has been happening to me recently. For example..."
"Johnny, I don't want to hear about your petty tribulations. They can't even begin to compare to mine. I'm tired of hearing you rant incessantly about trivial things. You think you have troubles? My son needs professional help, and I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to afford it. The dishwasher is on the fritz, the roof needs to be repaired and I just had a new set of tires put on Joanne's car. Jenny's constant whining is driving me nuts, my mother-in-law is coming to visit for two weeks to remind me of my imperfections and Joanne has decided she wants another baby. There's nothing you possibly can say that will convince me your plight is worse than mine."
Shocked by his friend's tirade, Johnny mutely continued to organize the workbench as Roy continued his diatribe. "You know what your problem is, Johnny? You're selfish and immature. You think the world only revolves around John Gage. Well, I have news for you, it doesn't. You need to grow up and start accepting some responsibility for a change."
A wounded Johnny stared at his best friend. "Is that honestly what you think of me?"
"You have to admit, you do exaggerate."
A lump formed in Johnny's throat. "All right. I won't waste your time then. Let's get this finished up. I have some stuff to take care of at home. I'm pulling some overtime at 110 tomorrow."
"You sure are working a lot of overtime these days," remarked Roy.
"Yeah, I'm moving soon, so I wanted to earn a little extra money."
"You didn't say anything about moving. Do you need any help?"
Still stinging from his friend's earlier criticism, Johnny answered, "Nah, I can take care of it by myself. But thanks anyway."
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Johnny was heartsick when he heard the news about Ron Casio, a friend since his fire academy days. He had recently been diagnosed with an advanced inoperable brain tumor. When his fiancée of three months learned of his diagnosis, she unceremoniously returned her engagement ring to Ron. At a time when he needed her the most, she utterly abandoned him.
Now Johnny and Ron sat beneath the shade of an oversized beach umbrella, lazily watching the waves crash against the shore.
"Ron, usually I'm the one who gets dumped, but there have been a few times when I've broken up with a girl for reasons that were so superficial. Now that I know what you're going through, I feel so ashamed of myself."
"Well, I guess it was for the best. In my case it took a brain tumor to find out who my friends are. Even my own family bailed out."
"You're kidding!" Johnny exclaimed.
Ron sadly shook his head. "I wish I was. That's why I wanted to talk to you today. I need to ask you to do me a favor."
"Sure, what do you need?"
"I want you to have my Medical Power Of Attorney. If I'm incapacitated, I want you to make any decisions regarding my medical care," Ron calmly announced.
"Shouldn't a family member handle this?"
"No, they won't respect my wishes. Johnny, the doctors told me I probably have about six months or so to live. I want to enjoy what time I have left doing stuff I've always wanted to do, not waste it trying some desperate experimental treatment that's destined to fail. I want to die in my own bed, and not be kept artificially alive by machines in some impersonal hospital. And when my body is too tired to continue to function, I don't want to be resuscitated. Will you promise me you'll do this for me?"
Johnny wiped at his eyes. "Ron, you're asking a lot."
"I know. But will you do this?"
"Yeah, okay." Johnny fought to regain control of his emotions. "So what do you want to do first?"
Ron grinned evilly. "See that blonde in the red bikini? Now that's the wish of a dying man! I dare you to get her phone number for me."
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Once again, Johnny awoke in the middle of the night with a gnawing feeling in his stomach. He stumbled out of bed to search his medicine cabinet. Alas, there was nothing for an upset stomach. Wait a minute...didn't his mother used to make a home remedy out of baking soda? He fumbled around the kitchen until he found the familiar orange box. Yes! The instructions were actually on the label. He carefully measured the mixture and drank the foul tasting liquid. It tasted like Alka-Seltzer that had gone flat. No matter, he would stop by the store on the way to work and pick up some Pepto Bismol or Tums or something else more palatable.
Realizing falling back to sleep was highly unlikely, Johnny settled into his recliner. Joey called several hours ago with an update. The enormity of his crime had set in, and Bud was extremely depressed. The elderly woman he attacked died from her injuries, and the charges against him were upgraded to second-degree murder. The judge denied bail, not that the family would have been able to raise the money. While awaiting trial, Bud turned seventeen last week. He frequently spoke of wanting to kill himself to atone for his crime, and because he was scared of being sent to an adult prison.
Johnny was deeply saddened to see a young life wasted. In an odd way, he felt guilty for escaping the poverty and hopeless existence Bud endured on the reservation. If he had remained in Montana, what would his life be like today? He certainly didn't condone the heinous act Bud committed, or the criminal activity that led to it, but he did understand the underlying despair. Bud chose drugs as a means to escape, whereas Johnny packed his bags and headed to California. They both sought the same thing. They wanted out of their misery.
According to Joey, Aunt Kitty's health deteriorated dramatically since Bud was arrested. She was a diabetic, and in the midst of her emotional distress, she wasn't taking care of herself. She wasn't eating properly or taking her insulin on a regular schedule, causing her blood sugar to fluctuate wildly. Both her sister's legs were amputated due to complications from diabetes, and the family worried that a similar fate awaited Aunt Kitty if she continued to neglect her health.
The burning sensation in Johnny's stomach was abating slightly. He sincerely wished he could talk to his friend about his burdens. Regrettably, it was obvious Roy was in no mood to listen. Johnny would have to manage on his own.
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The paramedics returned to the station after an exhausting morning of nuisance calls. Mike greeted them as they entered the kitchen. "Hey guys. You're just in time, there's a fresh pot of coffee."
Roy closed his eyes and savored the rich aroma of the invigorating bean. "Mike, you're an angel." He hastily reached into the cabinet and retrieved two cups.
"Uh, Roy. Would you get me a glass instead?"
"Aren't you going to have a cup of coffee?"
Johnny nonchalantly shook his head. "Nah, I'd rather have a glass of milk."
Chet dryly observed, "If you keep drinking this much milk, the station is going to need its own dairy cow!"
Embarrassed by the inadvertent attention he had drawn to himself, Johnny replied, "Well, I'm a growing boy."
An exasperated Roy snapped, "That's the problem with you, Johnny. You still have a lot of growing up to do."
Johnny wanted to scream. Instead he settled for pouring yet another glass of milk, hoping this one would stay down.
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The men were playing a friendly game of poker before turning in for the night when the telephone rang. "Johnny," Marco yelled, "You have a call."
"Thanks, man."
Johnny accepted the phone. "Hello?"
"Johnny, it's Joey. I'm sorry to bother you at work, but I just got some news I thought you needed to know about."
The burning sensation in Johnny's stomach intensified. "What's up?"
"Bud was found dead in his cell this evening. He hanged himself."
"What?!"
"He left a note saying he couldn't live with himself after what he'd done, and he hoped everyone could forgive him."
"Oh, man! How is Aunt Kitty handling this?"
"The doctor pumped her full of sedatives. She's totally lost it. Of course the family doesn't have any money to bury him. A.J. is going to see if the local tribal office can provide some assistance. Otherwise, he's going to be buried in a pauper's grave somewhere."
"Joey, I can help some, but I can't pay for all of it."
"Yeah, I know. Thanks for offering. I'll keep in touch."
"Thanks for calling." Johnny rubbed the tender area below his ribcage as he placed the phone in its cradle. With a heavy heart, he returned to the kitchen table. "Guys, I think I'm going to turn in."
Chet smirked. "What's the matter Johnny boy? Are you afraid I'm going to take all of your money?"
"No. I'm just tired all of a sudden."
"Well, you certainly need all the beauty rest you can get."
"I'll see you guys in the morning," Johnny said as he wearily walked to the dorm.
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Roy was a nervous wreck. His mother-in-law was arriving in two days, and there were still several things left on Joanne's infamous list. Since his partner did not exactly possess a reputation for being an early riser, Roy was surprised when Johnny arrived bright and early to render aid.
"I wasn't aware you knew 7:30 occurred twice a day," commented Roy.
"I was so excited I couldn't sleep. Where do you want to begin?"
"How about breakfast first?"
Johnny cringed. "No thanks. The sooner I get started, the more items we can check off your list. I know you're dying to worm your way into your mother-in-law's heart."
Roy snickered. "You're assuming she has one. I guess we can start by trimming the hedges and mowing the lawn."
"You got it. I'll take care of it while you're eating."
"Are you sure you don't want some eggs or toast? You look rather peaked."
What Johnny needed was a friend's support, not food. "No, I'm fine. I'll grab the tools from the shed and get to work."
Johnny's unbridled energy and enthusiasm never ceased to amaze Roy. Soon he joined his friend in the front yard. "Thanks for coming over. At least it will give the old biddy a few less things to complain about."
"Is it that bad?"
Roy momentarily buried his head in his hands. "Johnny, you have absolutely no idea. That woman has hated me since the day I met Joanne. She never thought I was good enough for her daughter. When I entered the fire academy, you would have thought I decided to become a serial killer or something equally horrible."
"Oh Roy, it can't be that awful."
"I'm not kidding. She constantly reminds me I'm not a good provider for my family. She gleefully points out that Joanne's sister lives in a nicer home than we do, and that my hours aren't dependable. Joanne mentioned she wants another baby, but the witch told her I'm not able to take care of the family I have now. I hope you've saved a bunch of money from all your overtime, because I may need you to bail me out of jail after I punch her lights out!"
"Believe it or not, it's not the end of the world. Trust me on this," Johnny said reassuringly.
Roy scoffed. "Oh yeah? It's not exactly like you're an authority on any important issues."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You live a carefree existence, with no responsibilities or concerns. You live for the moment, with no regard for people around you," Roy shrugged.
"What?" Johnny sputtered. "That's a very judgmental statement. You're positively clueless about what goes on in my personal life."
"Johnny, we've been friends for a long time, and I think I know you better than you know yourself. You have to admit, you are basically an overgrown child."
The dark-haired man furiously clipped the stray branches. "Roy, if you'd only listen to me..."
"Johnny, I don't need to hear what I already know. I'm tired of your constant whining. I'm not going to waste my time listening to you drone on endlessly about some meaningless matter. Can it, will ya?"
The pain in Johnny's stomach was becoming unbearable. He stepped back a few paces to assess his progress on the hedges, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Roy. "I think I'm done here. Let's get the lawnmower started."
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For one of the few times in his career, Johnny was going to arrive to work early. He patiently sat at the intersection waiting for the traffic light to change. Meanwhile, a young woman was happily driving her new Chevy Blazer and gazing in the review mirror as she applied another coat of mascara. She was therefore too preoccupied to notice the red light or the white Land Rover ahead of her.
Johnny jolted forward, and suddenly realized he had been propelled into the middle of the intersection. For several seconds, he was in a daze. As soon as the initial shock wore off, he performed a quick evaluation. Everything seemed be in working order. He carefully opened the door and began walking over to the occupant of the other vehicle to make sure she was okay. To his astonishment, she performed a rude hand gesture and hurriedly drove away.
"Oh great, this is just great," he groaned. He frantically searched the horizon trying to visualize her license plates. If Johnny couldn't track her down, he would have to file this claim on his insurance, which was the last thing he needed right now. That meant more expenses: a deductible, rental car fees and probably an increase in his insurance premiums. "Oh, man. I did not need this."
In a state of stunned disbelief, Johnny managed to drive to the station. He would call Vince later in the morning to report the accident.
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Chet gleefully noted who was late for the morning roll call. "Woo-hoo! Gage, my boy, you've spared me a shift of latrine duty!"
Roy was extremely irritated when Johnny breezed in ten minutes later. "Where have you been?"
The disheveled man apologized profusely. "I'm sorry I'm late. I had a wreck on the way in."
"You should have been driving more carefully," Roy lectured. "And you wonder why I won't let you drive the squad."
"What?! You're automatically assuming I caused the accident through an act of carelessness on my part. Did it occur to you for one second I might be the victim?" Johnny visibly fought to conceal his hurt and anger. "I'm going to clean up and change. I'll be ready in about ten minutes." The paramedic hastily retreated to the locker room.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, Chet's natural curiosity beckoned him to the parking lot to inspect the Rover. Wincing at the sight of the damaged vehicle, he ran back to the day room to report his findings. "Guys, you have to come see this! This wasn't a minor fender-bender Johnny had. The back of his truck is folded in like an accordion, and the entire rear windshield is shattered!"
The guys followed Chet out to the parking lot to personally survey Chet's assessment.
"Dios Mio," uttered Marco. "It's a miracle Johnny wasn't hurt."
Mike appeared deep in thought for a moment. "Maybe he was. Johnny said something about getting cleaned up. Look at all that glass."
The men noticed the glass fragments strewn all over the interior of the Rover. Captain Stanley addressed Roy. "Maybe you should check him out to make sure he's okay."
Feeling guilty about his earlier rebuke, Roy sought out his partner. He found him sitting on the bench in front of his locker, tying his shoes. "Hey, at least you're in better shape than your car. How do you feel?"
"I'm okay."
"Are you sure? Why don't you let me perform a quick exam?"
"No, really, I'm fine," Johnny insisted. "I'll be a bit stiff and sore tomorrow, but I'll live."
A somewhat penitent Roy offered, "A few of those cuts look pretty nasty. At least let me put some antibiotic cream on them."
Johnny gloomily replied, "Nah, that's okay, I'll take care of it. Besides, aren't you the one who's always telling me I need to grow up and be more responsible?"
Roy's words were coming back to haunt him. Fine. Johnny was probably only suffering from a few minor cuts anyway. Nothing serious. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.
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Johnny was near physical collapse. He attributed his state of extreme fatigue to the overtime he had been putting in. The lightheadedness started a few days ago, so he decided to decline any more OT until he felt better. He had been living off coffee and adrenaline for the past few weeks, which no doubt was aggravating the chronic pain in his stomach. He discontinued taking the aspirin when he started throwing up stuff that looked uncomfortably like coffee grounds. That wasn't a good sign. He knew he should see a doctor, but he was afraid of what he would find out. Maybe if he kept taking the antacids and continued drinking milk, the nagging symptoms would go away.
God bless Isabel. When she heard about Johnny's wreck, she offered him the use of Tony's Oldsmobile. The idea felt creepy at first, but she assured him Tony would have wanted him to borrow it. From a practical standpoint, it did make sense. The car was paid for, the insurance was pre-paid, and Johnny desperately needed transportation. It was a huge help to him since he didn't have to incur the expense of a rental car or beg for rides to work.
Roy's mother-in-law's visit continued to progress at an agonizingly slow pace. He provided Johnny with a running commentary of his latest trials and tribulations. Johnny resigned himself to politely listening to the daily report of DeSoto's Inferno. If only Roy would extend the same courtesy.
Johnny lost count of the times he wanted to pick up the phone and call Roy to clear the air. If only he understood what was going on, perhaps he would be willing to lend a sympathetic ear.
Instead of embracing a greatly needed friend, Johnny spent most of his time these days hugging the toilet.
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Johnny was sorting his laundry when he heard a persistent knock on the door. He was surprised to see an old girlfriend holding a small child.
"Remember me?" the woman asked scathingly.
"Yeah, Lauren. How could I forget? What do you want?"
"Well, I'm tired of trying to raise your daughter by myself. I'm going to sue you for child support. I'm going to make sure you pay for what you did to me."
He gazed at the angelic blond, blue-eyed little girl. "Lauren, how do I know she's mine? She doesn't resemble me at all. You were dating two other guys at the same time."
"You abandoned me, and I'll never forgive you," she seethed.
"Wait a minute. As I recall, you're the one who dumped me. I was only a lowly firefighter who didn't make enough money to suit you. You left me for an advertising executive who made big bucks, and two years later you track me down and decide I'm the father of your child. I'm not paying a dime until a paternity test proves I'm the father of this child."
"I'm going to call my lawyer!" she screamed.
"Fine. Your lawyer can talk to mine," he said as he slammed the door.
Great. Now he was going to have to find money to hire an attorney. Was there an end in sight to his troubles?
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
As the men gathered around the television to watch Kojak, Johnny surreptiously removed a roll of Tums from his shirt pocket.
"What's that?" Roy asked.
Damn. Caught in the act. "Oh, I ate too much. I have a touch of indigestion."
Roy raised an eyebrow. In fact, Johnny barely consumed anything at dinner. He merely skillfully pushed his food around his plate to give the appearance he had eaten. Actually, he had been doing that a lot lately.
About halfway through the show, Johnny suddenly bolted out of his chair and ran to the latrine. A concerned Roy chased after him. He found his partner retching painfully over one of the toilets. After several minutes, Johnny collected himself and walked to the sink to wash his face.
"Are you okay now?" asked Roy as he handed him a couple of paper towels.
"Yeah. It must have been something I ate."
The senior paramedic eyed him suspiciously. "The rest of us ate the same thing you did, and we're not in here puking our guts out."
Johnny attempted a trademark crooked grin. "Well, maybe you guys don't have a delicate constitution like me."
Roy glanced at his partner. He was pale and looked generally unwell. Instinctively he reached out his hand to feel Johnny's forehead, but the attempt was quickly rebuffed.
"What are you doing?"
"I was going to check to see if you're running a fever. You look like you're sweating."
Johnny was incredulous. "I just washed my face. Of course it's damp." He started walking back toward the day room. Come on, I want to find out how this episode ends." He left a worried Roy in his wake.
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
"Dixie, is one of the docs available to see another patient?" Roy tentatively asked.
The head nurse was puzzled. "I thought you only brought in the guy with..." Realization slowly dawned on her as to who the patient might be. "Sure, Kel's in his office. Let me get him for you." She promptly paged Dr. Brackett, and within minutes he walked over to the nurses' station.
"What seems to be the problem?" he asked.
Roy nervously massaged the back of his neck. "I know he won't admit it, but something's wrong with Johnny. I can't remember the last time he's felt like eating. In fact, he's been avoiding food like the plague. At first I tried to cut him some slack, figuring it was one of his phases. Doc, he's been vomiting, sometimes several times a day."
The doctor frowned. "Have you asked him about this?"
"I've tried, but he always tells me it's a little indigestion. But this has been going on for a few weeks now."
"Where is our errant patient?"
Dixie rolled her eyes. "Johnny's in the nurses' lounge. It seems he discovered Diane, the new nurse that started this morning."
Dr. Brackett chuckled. "He certainly didn't waste any time, did he? Well, I guess I'll go find our young Romeo and drag him off to a treatment room, kicking and screaming, no doubt."
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
"Oh, man! I can't believe this!" Johnny complained as Dr. Brackett escorted him to the dreaded treatment room. "I'm fine. I just get a little heartburn once in a while. That's all."
"Johnny, quite frankly, I don't trust your judgment in these matters. You have a tendency to downplay symptoms. Usually I don't see you unless you're brought in by an ambulance or someone forces you to seek help."
"But..."
The doctor unyieldingly pointed to the exam table. Johnny sullenly sat down and began unbuttoning his shirt.
"So how long have you 'not had a problem?'"
"I guess for a couple of months. Like I said, I just get indigestion occasionally."
"Uh huh. Define 'occasionally.'"
"Well, pretty much every day."
Dr. Brackett folded his arms in an expression that reeked of exasperation. "I see. Is the pain constant?"
Johnny nodded imperceptibly. "It keeps me awake at night, and it's worse about an hour or so after I eat. I've discovered a wonderful way around that though."
"Let me guess, you've stopped eating."
"Yeah."
"Any vomiting?"
There was a discernable pause. "Uh, quite a bit."
"Do you ever throw up any material that looks like coffee grounds?" the physician prompted.
The young man swallowed and replied in a soft voice, "Yeah."
"And you didn't feel this was worth mentioning?"
The dark-haired paramedic remained silent. After all, he had learned some really useful information watching episodes of Adam-12, like "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you..."
Reluctantly, Johnny cooperated while the emergency room physician performed a complete examination. Dr. Brackett was concerned by the pronounced tenderness below Johnny's ribcage. He was also troubled by the sixteen-pound weight loss.
"So Doc, what's the deal? Am I going to live?" Johnny joked nervously.
Dr. Brackett drew a deep breath. "Johnny, I want to run a few tests to make sure, but I'm almost positive you have a gastric ulcer."
"What? That's impossible! I'm not the worrying kind like Roy. This is something that would happen to him," he protested.
Roy put his hands in his pockets and sheepishly stared at the floor.
"I'm scheduling you for an upper GI series for tomorrow morning, and I'll have Dixie draw some blood. Your mucous membranes are pale, which is usually an indication of anemia. Once we get the test results back, we'll be able to determine a proper course of treatment."
"But Doc..."
"Would you prefer to have this done as an inpatient? Your hydration status could be more easily addressed," Dr. Brackett challenged.
The defeated paramedic wildly waved his hands. "No, no. That won't be necessary. Tomorrow is fine."
"I thought so. Oh, and you're officially off duty until further notice."
Johnny nodded numbly. He knew he had a lot on his mind lately, but he had no idea it could be affecting his stomach this badly.
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
The senior paramedic called Captain Stanley to inform him a replacement would be needed to complete the remainder of Johnny's shift. As the men rode back to the station, the tension in the out-of-service squad was palpable. Roy finally broke the silence.
"I don't understand, Johnny. Why didn't you say anything? I mean, something has been literally eating away at you. You probably have a hole in your stomach!"
"What difference would it have made?" Johnny asked sadly as he watched the passing scenery.
Roy was confused. "I can't believe you didn't tell me, your best friend, what was bothering you. I'm hurt because you felt you had to suffer alone."
Johnny was stunned. He quickly turned around to face his partner. "Roy, you've been so absorbed in your own problems, you were convinced mine were insignificant. Every time I tried to tell you anything, you shut me out. You made it very clear what I had to say wasn't important. After a while, I gave up trying. It was easier to listen to your troubles than it was to attempt to explain mine."
The truth of Johnny's words cut Roy life a knife. At the moment, he wasn't sure whose stomach was in worse shape.
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
"Joanne, I can't believe I treated my best friend like that! I know I was frustrated, but that's no excuse. I accuse Johnny of ranting all the time, but that's exactly what I've been doing. I haven't given Johnny a chance to talk. Now he probably has an ulcer and it's all my fault."
"Honey, you can't single-handedly give someone an ulcer. Obviously Johnny has a lot of things going on in his life that have been stressing him out."
"But he tried to tell me what was going on and I wouldn't let him. Now it's too late," Roy lamented.
Joanne sought to comfort her distraught husband. "Roy, it's never too late. Call him and invite him over for dinner tonight. I'll go to the supermarket and buy some steaks for you to grill, and the kids and I can spend the night at my sister's so you two can have the house to yourselves. I'm sure you can work this out."
"You'd do that for me?" Roy asked hopefully.
"Yes, but I expect a return on my investment," Joanne replied mischievously as she kissed him on the back of his neck.
"Thanks, babe."
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
In spite of Joanne's good intentions, the steaks were a waste of effort since neither man had much of an appetite.
"Johnny, I feel like the worst friend in the world. Considering what you've been through, my complaints seem minor. I'm so ashamed for making the assumptions I did. You have to believe me, if there was any way I could take those statements back, I would."
Listlessly picking at his plain baked potato, Johnny replied, "I know, but they still hurt. I felt completely alone. It was hard to listen to you vent day after day knowing I couldn't do the same."
"I'm willing to listen now," Roy offered.
"Okay, but I hope you've learned something about me tonight. I may talk about superficial stuff a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm a total goofball. It means I don't always feel comfortable blabbing personal things until I'm ready. But when I am, I need to feel I can depend on you. Do you understand?"
Roy nodded. "I'm starting to."
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
Johnny nervously sat in Dr. Brackett's office while the gastroenterologist discussed the findings of his tests from the day before. "The upper GI series actually revealed two ulcers in close proximity." He showed Johnny the corresponding areas on the films suspended on the light box.
"Two?" a stunned Johnny repeated. "How do you treat them?"
Dr. Mueller matter-of-factly stated, "We'll start you on a couple of medications to reduce the amount of acid your stomach produces and to protect the lining of your stomach. Hopefully, we'll see an improvement in approximately 6-8 weeks following a course of medications and a change in your diet."
"What if it doesn't improve?"
"Obviously we prefer to manage this condition with more conservative measures, but if the ulcers continue to bleed or perforate, we'll have no choice but to perform surgery."
Sensing his patient's growing agitation, Dr. Brackett sought to reassure him. "Johnny, you shouldn't be assuming worst case scenarios before you even have your prescriptions filled. Let's take one step at a time. Besides," the doctor added with a wry smile, "we can't have you worrying any more than necessary, can we?"
"Well," Johnny replied, "I guess at least now I have a legitimate excuse not to drink that awful coffee Chet makes."
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
Patience never had been Johnny's greatest virtue. After a two-week medical leave, he anxiously awaited the results of his exam. Dr. Brackett methodically scanned the lab reports affixed to his chart.
"So what's the story, doc?" he desperately pleaded. "Can I go back to work?"
"Hmm. Your vital signs are normal. Your blood pressure is fine, and there's no more evidence of orthostatic hypotension."
"What about my blood work?" Johnny prodded.
Dr. Brackett's mouth twitched. "Some of the values are on the low end of normal."
"But they're normal enough to go back to work, right?"
"That depends. Do you still tend to get lightheaded?" the doctor probed.
Johnny rushed to reassure him. "No, not at all."
"How is your energy level?"
"It's much better. I'm not anywhere nearly as tired as I was."
The physician clutched the chart against his chest and rocked back on his heels. "How does your stomach feel?"
A wave of relief washed over Johnny. "It feels a lot better. I mean, it's still sore sometimes, but nothing like before. I think I'm more likely to die from eating boring food!"
Dr. Brackett smiled as he scribbled Johnny's return to work order. Handing the slip of paper to the delighted patient, he admonished, "Get out of here, hose jockey!"
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
A miserable Johnny enviously watched as his shift-mates helped themselves to Marco's famous chili. He glared at his bland lunch of broiled chicken and white rice.
"How long are you going to be on that diet?" asked Mike.
Johnny complained, "At least another six weeks."
Chet retorted, "I didn't know you could get ulcers. I thought you could only give them."
"Aren't you on medication?" Marco inquired.
"Yeah, but I have to watch what I eat too."
"Bummer," commented Chet. "Oh well, that means there's more for me."
Captain Stanley crumbled some crackers into his bowl of chili. "I have to admit, John. You're the last person in the world I would have expected to get an ulcer."
"Why is that?"
"You don't seem like the type. You know, stress-prone."
Johnny playfully kicked Roy under the table. "Well, you have to consider who I work with. That's enough to stress anyone out!"
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
"Thanks, Jer. I owe you big time." Chet frantically hung up the phone and raced to the table. He eagerly rubbed his hands together. "Guys, I have some juicy gossip hot off the presses."
"Oh, Chet," Johnny howled. "No one wants to hear it."
"It's going to affect everyone," Chet hinted.
"Okay, go ahead and spill the beans. I can tell you're dying to get it out of your system."
Chet quickly lowered his voice to a near whisper. "My buddy Jerry over at Station 8 just called. Chief McConnike is making some surprise inspections."
Marco chimed in. "I don't think I like where this is going."
"About an hour ago, the Chief showed up at Station 8 without any advance notice whatsoever. Jer said he thought the paramedics were going to have to do CPR on poor Captain Phelps! Anyway, Jer overheard the Chief discussing his afternoon schedule with some guy that came with him. Guess who's on it?"
Roy groaned. "51?"
"Bingo."
The men uttered various curses.
Mike spoke first. "Should we tell Cap?"
"So help me," Chet threatened, "if you say one word, I'll use your toothbrush to clean the latrine."
"Yeah," said Johnny. He emphatically pointed to his stomach. "I already have two ulcers. If Cap finds out about this in advance, he'll drive us crazy with his paranoia. Then I'll have three ulcers by the end of the day!"
"So it's decided then, not a word?"
The men enthusiastically voiced their consent.
Captain Stanley chose that precise moment to leave his office and disturb their impromptu meeting. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," Chet quickly responded, albeit too innocently.
"Come on," Cap prompted sternly. "You were talking about something. What was it?"
Marco decided to field this one. "You see Cap, Chet was telling us which toothbrush he prefers to use to clean the latrine."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
Four heads rapidly bobbed up and down in agreement.
"You bunch of twits," he muttered as he walked back to his office with a fresh cup of coffee.
"Whew, that was close," Chet remarked with a sigh of relief.
Johnny reached into his shirt pocket for his roll of antacids. This was going to be an extremely long afternoon.
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
The persistent gnawing sensation in his gut that awakened him was more intense than he ever experienced before and radiated toward his back. Not able to fall back to sleep, a pajama clad Johnny relocated to the sofa to watch weekday morning cartoons. He was watching the antics of Bugs Bunny when a blinding pain unexpectedly seized him in his mid-section. Immediately, he contacted his gastroenterologist's office, but the secretary informed him the doctor was in surgery most of the day and wouldn't be able to return his call until 2:00 that afternoon. Johnny didn't feel he could wait that long. He decided on another course of action, and shakily dialed a familiar number.
A tired sounding Roy answered, "Hello?"
"Roy, it's Johnny. I'm sorry to bother you on your day off, but I need a huge favor."
"Johnny, you sound terrible. Are you okay?"
"No, I don't think so. I feel like crap." Johnny shivered as he wrapped his blanket around him more tightly. "Roy, I really hate to ask, but can you drive me over to Rampart?"
Roy was instantly alarmed. "Johnny, if you're feeling awful enough to admit you're sick, and you're actually volunteering to go to the hospital, I'm going to call for a squad."
"Oh, man. That's not necessary. Just come pick me up."
"Johnny, I'm not even going to argue with you. You know I'm right," Roy insisted.
Johnny managed a small laugh. "Yes, Mom."
"I'll meet you at the hospital."
"Thanks, Roy." Johnny felt secretly relieved. Things were back to normal, and all was right with the world. Roy was going to take care of everything. He slowly limped back to the recliner to wait for help to arrive.
Johnny decided Einstein was right about his relativity theory. Intellectually he knew only a few minutes had elapsed since he talked to Roy, but in his misery, it seemed like an eternity. Finally, he heard a loud knock at the door.
"It's open," he weakly shouted. As he fuzzily watched the paramedics carry their equipment into his apartment, his physical discomfort was momentarily forgotten. "I can't believe this!" Johnny thought. "Why him?!" He burrowed deeper into his cocoon.
Craig Brice, the perfect paramedic, efficiently began setting up the biophone on Johnny's coffee table. His long-suffering partner, Bob Bellingham, retrieved the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff from the drug box and prepared to take Johnny's vital signs. "You know, if you wanted us to drop by for a cup of coffee, all you had to do was ask."
"What, and miss all this excitement?"
Bellingham frowned as he performed his assessment. Johnny appeared pale and shocky. "What seems to be the problem?"
"I have a couple of ulcers that have been giving me fits. The pain suddenly got really bad about twenty minutes ago. I tried calling my gastroenterologist's office, but he's tied up in surgery most of the day. You know me, I'm not the patient type, no pun intended."
The paramedics exchanged anxious glances. John Gage certainly didn't fit the stereotype of an ulcer-prone personality type. If anything, he seemed blissfully immune to stress-related illnesses. Yet, he was in obvious distress. Bellingham quickly scribbled Johnny's vital signs on his notepad.
"Are you taking any medications?"
"Uh, Tagamet and Carafate."
"All right, buddy. I need to unwrap you a little so I can sneak a peek at you." Bellingham noted a pronounced rigidity when he palpated Johnny's abdomen. "Have you had any nausea or vomiting?"
"Yeah, both."
The paramedic sighed. "Okay, you can have your blankie back."
Johnny closed his eyes and gratefully accepted the opportunity to bask in the relative warmth of the flannel covering. He was vaguely aware of the conversation between Brice and Rampart, but he didn't have the energy to care. Moaning softly in pain, he curled up on his side and clutched at his stomach.
"Gage, Rampart ordered an IV," Brice perfunctorily informed him.
Glaring at his nemesis, Johnny threaded his arm through the blanket and cautiously offered it to Brice. "I sure hope his technique is better than his bedside manner," Johnny hoped. Within minutes, the IV was started, and he was ready for transport to Rampart.
Brice rechecked Johnny's vital signs during transit. He was disappointed to discover his patient's blood pressure had dropped precipitously. After he contacted Rampart with an update, Johnny inexplicably started laughing.
"What's the matter, Gage?"
"I never thought I'd see the day when I couldn't wait to get to the ER. Usually I'm an unwilling participant."
"Oh. There's a first time for everything, you know."
"Yeah," Johnny agreed. "And hopefully this is the last time too."
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
Roy furiously paced the floor of the waiting room of the emergency department. Johnny arrived nearly half an hour ago, and he was still waiting for anyone to provide him with a status report. Two cups of hospital coffee were not helping to calm his already frayed nerves.
He felt overwhelmed by guilt. If only he hadn't assumed Johnny's problems were unworthy of his attention and taken the time to listen to him when he needed his understanding and support, Johnny wouldn't have developed ulcers. He wouldn't need to be brought to the hospital by ambulance, and he wouldn't be in a treatment room right now. Roy felt lower than pond scum. His self-pitying reverie was interrupted by Dr. Brackett's presence.
"Doc, how is he doing?"
The physician's mouth twitched slightly. "He's stable for the moment. Johnny is definitely hemorrhaging from a perforated ulcer. He was in shock when he arrived. Not only do we have to contend with repairing the damage to his stomach, but also peritonitis. Dr. Mueller has been notified, and he has rearranged his schedule so he can take Johnny next."
"Is Johnny going to be okay?"
"He should be. Our primary concern at this point is infection, so he'll receive aggressive treatment with IV antibiotics. Dr. Mueller will also thoroughly wash out the abdominal cavity after the ulcers have been resected and the sources of the bleeding have been sealed off." Dr. Brackett noticed the anguished expression on Roy's face. "Johnny wants to see you, but make it brief. We really need to get him upstairs as quickly as possible."
Roy tentatively entered the treatment room and approached Johnny's gurney. A cursory inspection revealed an impressive array of tubes and monitoring wires. It was difficult to reconcile the image of his usually hyperactive partner with the abnormally still form on the bed. His dark hair and lashes contrasted starkly against his ghastly pale complexion. If this was an improvement, Roy was glad he hadn't seen Johnny when he was brought in.
Roy gently squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Hey, Johnny. Looks like you really outdid yourself this time."
A crooked grin crept across Johnny's features. "Yeah, I guess a bland diet wasn't my style."
"How do you feel?"
Johnny's voice slurred, "Usually with my fingers." He smiled at Roy's confusion. "I'm okay. They gave me something for the pain." Johnny struggled to keep his eyes open. "Roy, thanks for calling the taxi service. I appreciate it."
"Any time, partner." Roy saw two orderlies standing in the doorway. "Johnny, I need to go..."
It was already too late. Johnny had succumbed to the arms of Morpheus.
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
As he poured yet another cup of hideously strong hospital coffee, Roy wondered how many times he was destined to wait for news of his partner's condition in this room. He found comfort in the fact he would not have to maintain his vigil alone. Once Johnny was taken to surgery, Roy contacted all the guys from A-Shift to inform them of this latest development. The men assembled in the surgical waiting room within the hour, anxious to discover what had happened.
"I don't understand," said Chet. "I thought he was taking medication for his ulcers. How could something like this happen?"
"I'm not sure," confessed Roy. "Maybe the medication wasn't helping as much as the doctor hoped it would. Or knowing Johnny, it's possible he didn't admit how badly he was hurting until it was nearly too late."
While they gloomily considered Roy's statement, a scrub-suited figure emerged from the double doors of the operating room. The men hastily scrambled to their feet.
"Is there a Roy DeSoto here?"
Roy automatically raised his hand. "Yes, that's me. How is Johnny doing?"
The tall, gray-haired man walked over to the group and motioned for them to be seated. "He's doing fine. We had a bit of difficulty keeping his blood pressure stabilized until we got the bleeding under control, but I don't foresee any further problems in that respect. Since the second ulcer was in such close proximity to the one that perforated, we resected that one as well. As Dr. Brackett probably mentioned, our main concern at this point is peritonitis. When one of the ulcers perforated, it released bacteria and other contaminants into the abdominal cavity. I cleaned up as much as I could from a surgical perspective, and we'll keep Johnny on high doses of IV antibiotics for about a week or so to combat any systemic infection. We'll perform routine blood work to monitor his progress."
"When can we see him?" asked Roy.
Dr. Mueller eyed the concerned firefighters. "Mr. Gage is still in the recovery room. He should be moved to his room in about an hour. I'll make the necessary arrangements for you to visit him outside regular visiting hours."
Captain Stanley enthusiastically shook the doctor's hand. "Thanks, Doc. We really appreciate it." The other men enthusiastically expressed their gratitude.
The slightly bemused gastroenterologist watched as the men of Station 51 left for the hospital cafeteria. Dr. Kelly Brackett had warned him of the fierce camaraderie of Johnny's colleagues. But seeing it first-hand was a completely different experience.
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
The doctors were correct in their prognosis. Johnny's gastric surgery was deemed successful, however, the peritonitis issue proved more problematic. Since they anticipated this, an aggressive regimen of antibiotics and antipyretics was initiated upon admission, thus significantly reducing the severity of his illness. During the first post-operative days, Johnny was either too heavily medicated or felt too miserable to complain about being confined to a hospital bed. However, the picture changed considerably by the fourth day, since he was in greater danger of succumbing to death by asphyxiation by one of the nurses smothering him with his pillow. He was desperate to be disconnected from the medical paraphernalia in order to regain his mobility and independence. To ask John Gage to be still was to defy some law of physics. The charge nurse was immensely relieved to see Roy exit the elevator.
"Mr. DeSoto, may I please have a word with you?"
Roy stopped in his tracks. "What did he do this time?"
"This question is, what hasn't he done?"
"One of those days, huh?"
"I'm afraid Mr. Gage still has the NG tube on low suction, and much to his displeasure, he still has the catheter. I'm sure they'll be removed soon, but harassing the staff isn't going to hasten their departure. Could you please talk to him?" she pleaded.
"I'll see what I can do."
Lying in the bed was the picture of innocence. "Hey, there's a voodoo doll at the nurses' station that looks exactly like you," Roy teased.
Johnny attempted an aura of contrition. "I'm tired of lying in bed all day trying to behave myself."
"I thought you agreed to follow the doctor's instructions to the letter without complaint," Roy scolded.
"I must have been delirious. I conveniently don't remember that," the notoriously difficult patient pouted.
"Uh huh. Fortunately, I do. Besides, Brice said you were anxious enough to get here."
"That's different. I was in severe pain and wanted morphine. I would have promised anything then."
"Well, I need you to promise to stop driving the nurses stark raving bananas now," chided Roy. "If you have any complaints about your tubes or meds, you need to discuss that with your doctor. Understood?"
"Okay," Johnny mumbled.
"I know I'll probably regret saying this, but I'm glad to hear you complain about something again." Roy tried to adopt an expression of long-suffering.
Johnny couldn't resist teasing his friend. "Oh, I don't want to hear about your petty complaints! You think you have problems? Maybe you're the one who needs to grow up."
A chagrined Roy laughed. Payback was hell.
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
Home sweet home. After two weeks of Hotel Rampart, Johnny was finally enjoying the comforts of his apartment.
The whistling of the kettle startled Johnny from his introspection. As he poured the hot water into the ceramic mug, he smiled at the thought of drinking herbal tea. It seemed like such a girly thing to do. Heaven forbid Chet Kelly see this scene, he'd never hear the end of it! But until Dr. Mueller allowed Johnny to start reintroducing certain items into his diet, herbal tea was a reasonably acceptable substitute for coffee once one acquired a taste for it.
Johnny absent-mindedly stirred his tea as the honey dissolved. On the kitchen table were two items that brought a sense of closure to recent events. The first was an invitation to attend the christening of Anthony Angel Morales, Jr. The emotions evoked were bittersweet. Johnny was excited for Isabel, but he was sad that Tony had not lived to see this day, and that his child would never know how much he meant to his proud father.
The second item was a letter from Johnny's attorney. The paternity test was conclusive: he was not the father of Lauren's baby. In his heart he knew the woman's claim was a scam, but nonetheless, physical evidence substantiating his claim put his mind at ease.
Joey called a couple of nights ago. Aunt Kitty was doing much better. Since her son's death, she was living with a relative who was helping her manage her diabetes. Her blood sugar had leveled off, and her overall health was relatively stable. Still, there was no cure for an empty soul.
When Johnny was feeling better, he was going sailing with Ron. Not knowing how long his health would permit, Ron scheduled a flurry of outdoor activities for the next three months. As an avid outdoorsman, Johnny was included in many of these plans. They would go camping, fishing, hiking, canoeing and biking. There was also a four-day weekend planned to photograph wildlife in Alaska. Despite Johnny's adventurous spirit, he drew the line at skydiving. He was painfully aware the tragic day would come when he would have to bid farewell to his young friend. But for now, he was prepared to help Ron celebrate life.
He could finally breath a sigh of relief where his finances were concerned. Johnny was squared away with Uncle Sam, and he made sure the county was deducting the correct amount for the current year so he didn't have any nasty surprises next April. The apartment he moved into a few weeks ago was more reasonably priced than his old one, and it was closer to work. On the downside, it was smaller than he was accustomed to, but he preferred to think of it as cozier. Much to Johnny's delight, the police were able to track down the woman who caused his accident, so he was spared that expense. The body shop Marco recommended did a fantastic job on his Rover, and they replaced his transmission for a very reasonable price.
Most importantly, the rift in his friendship with Roy had healed. They no longer took their relationship for granted. It was hard to believe there was a time when they allowed the frustrations of day-to-day life to jeopardize a bond closer than brotherhood. In the greater scheme of the past few months, all the other crises of Johnny's life paled by comparison. He would always hold ties to his family in Montana by blood, but the DeSotos adopted him by choice many years ago. His family was here now, and this is where he belonged.
Johnny contentedly drank his warm cup of tea.
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
"So you let him drive the squad in?" joked Dixie.
Roy blushed. "Well, he wasn't too enthusiastic about riding in with the victim since the little monster bit him."
"Ouch! I bet he wasn't too happy about that!"
"I think he said something about the merits of celibacy for some people. Dr. Early is repairing the damage of nibble as we speak."
Johnny strolled down the corridor waving his freshly bandaged hand. "I'm good to go."
Dixie was genuinely shocked. "So soon? But I don't believe you've met Bonnie. She started when you were on sick leave."
"No thanks, maybe another time."
Roy's hand immediately reached for Johnny's forehead. "He's not feverish. Dix, maybe Dr. Early needs to see him again. I think he missed something."
"Clearly it's serious," Dixie agreed.
"Guys, cut it out," Johnny begged. "I'm simply not interested today."
The head nurse prodded, "What brought about this drastic change?"
Johnny conspiratorially grinned at Roy. "I've decided I don't need the constant stress of rejection for a while. Besides, you know me. I'm not ready to get serious about a girl right now. I might have to grow up and be responsible for a change. Nah, I'm having fun just being a big kid at heart."
Roy affectionately slapped him on the back. "Johnny, we wouldn't have you any other way."
finis
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