Once a Fool, Always a Fool
by Marty

Johnny, Roy and Dr. Donaldson loped out of Rampart's emergency entrance.  Kent bubbled with enthusiasm as he got back into the squad, "I still can't believe what you fellas did, climbing up in the tower with fire surrounding you to care for that heart attack victim.  Incredible!" 

"That's the rare rescue though, Dr. Donaldson," Roy said as he drove past the auto dealership that was near the station.

The radio redirected them.  Squad 51, man with difficulty breathing.  25 Rumsey Road.  Cross Street Bayview.  Timeout 1932.

Johnny withdrew the microphone from its spigot, "10-4."  Expelling a long breath as Roy rerouted he commented, "I was hoping we'd finally get some chow, even if it is late."

Several minutes later, Roy pulled up to the curb and joined Johnny at the passenger side of the squad, whisking out the biocom.  "Doc, would you get the oxygen?"

Johnny rapped on the front door, "Fire department."

A coughing woman in her late thirties answered it.  "It's Jeb.  He was using drain cleaner on the kitchen sink."   The noxious scent of sulfuric acid grew stronger as they moved to the back of the house.  

Jeb was on the floor, propped against the cabinet, struggling for breath as they entered.    "I can't breathe," he managed to say with a gasp.  Johnny knelt by him and grabbed the oxygen as soon as Kent Donaldson set it down.

"Of all the asinine things you could do," Roy could hear the intern revving up to deliver his opinion.  He unfastened the hasp on the biocom and gave an order, "Open the windows and doors, get some ventilation in here and then see if the wife is all right."

Dr. Donaldson stopped his ranting and gave the paramedic a belligerent stare, but he moved to get untainted air entering the house.  He bumped into the woman, who was standing in the doorway, watching Johnny as he got vitals.  "Ma'am?"  His years of training noted that she was no longer coughing and he mentally counted her respirations, estimating them at sixteen per minute.  Roy clicked on the biophone but set the receiver back onto the unit when he realized a doctor was with them.   

"BP's 130/88, pulse is 100 and respirations are 28."  Johnny announced as he took the stethoscope out of his ears and hooked it around his neck.  He fished an IV kit and bag of normal saline out of the drug box, anticipating orders from the doctor.

Kent nodded, "Go ahead with the IV, TKO.  Mister, didn't you know how dangerous that stuff can be?"

The man fumbled to pull the oxygen mask off his face, "It said harmful if swallowed.  I didn't drink the stuff." 

"You might as well have," Dr. Donaldson was winding up again to give the man a piece of his mind.

"Ma'am, why don't you come with me so I can get some information?"  Roy forced the doctor to move with him as he guided them to the living room.  He and Johnny exchanged glances as the senior paramedic left.

The ambulance arrived and Johnny followed their patient into the vehicle.  Dr. Donaldson prepared to join them when Roy suggested, "Why don't you ride in the squad with me?" 

"Gage might need my help," the intern retorted; his tone dared Roy to disagree with him.

Roy slid the drug box and biocom into the ambulance and closed the doors.  "Doctor, the patient is stable.  They can pull over if a crisis occurs."  He left the physician standing on the empty street as he strolled to the squad.   Roy started the engine as soon as Kent got in.

"What's wrong with people?  I never knew that most of the population were idiots until I started working in the emergency room."  

"Dr. Donaldson, we all make mistakes.  Sometimes errors are from lack of information or carelessness or…" 

"They lack brains," the intern rejoined, turning his body away from Roy. 

The paramedic gripped the steering wheel to keep from saying more to the man next to him.   At the hospital, the victim's care was turned over to Dr. Morton.  As the paramedics and Dr. Donaldson strode toward the base station, Dr. Brackett's office door opened.  "I didn't hear you were on your way in."  The head of Emergency Services noted the intern's expression and his eyebrows rose.   "Your father is coming in to cover the rest of your shift."

"Tell him to forget it; I'll stay here."  Dr. Donaldson snarled.

The two paramedics remained silent until Kel Brackett asked, "Who'd you bring in?"

"Some imbecile who thought drain cleaner was harmless.  The man coulda killed himself."  Kent Donaldson fumed, not catching his boss' reaction to his report.

Johnny jumped into the conversation, "we aired out his home and administered oxygen.  He'll be fine."

"I guess we better get back to work," Roy declared, picking up the biocom Johnny had set on the floor.  Dr. Donaldson didn't make a move to join them.

"Doctor, please finish the shift with Roy and Johnny.  We'll be fine here."  Dr. Brackett's stance made it obvious to Kent that this was not a matter for discussion.

The intern pivoted and, with frustration oozing from his pores, he tagged after the paramedics.     When they got back to the station, Marco got up from the table.  "Hash is in the oven."

The doctor eyed the steaming dish that Roy put on the table while Johnny got plates and silverware.  "Is it edible?"

Johnny grinned, "well this would never make it on a restaurant menu but we eat pretty good around here.

"How was the last run?"  Captain Stanley asked as he came into the kitchen from his office and pulled a chair up to the table with his leg.

Roy put his fork down, "he'll be fine."  Hank Stanley saw their guest's expression and chose not to seek further information.

Inhaling a draught of milk, Kent Donaldson turned to the lanky man, "Captain, you handled the rescue with that heart attack victim with real finesse.  I saw how you were aware of everything going on."

"Thank you, doctor."  The captain gave him a grateful look and picked up an issue of Outdoors Magazine sitting next to him.   He whistled under his breath when he saw the boat:  1969 16-foot Silver Tri Hull.  55 horsepower Evinrude Triumph Motor.  Runs great.  Trailer included.  $1350.  Shaking his head at the price, he set it aside. 

Chet saw the ad, "this is a real beauty.  Wish I could afford it."

"Wish I could afford it," Hank Stanley tossed the journal out of his reach and leaned back in his chair, casting his longing aside. 

The young doctor swallowed his bite and wiped his mouth with a napkin, "Captain, you have managerial skills.  You could work a normal, Monday-Friday, 9-5 job and afford a boat and not have to eat, this, uh, cooking."

"That is food for thought," the head of the station scraped back his chair and headed out of the room.

"You don't get it, do you?"  Johnny told the medico. "First of all he doesn't want a "normal," 9-5 job.  That man has more knowledge in his head than you'll squeeze in there in fifty years."

"Gage!"  The captain, overhearing, said sharply.  "The latrine needs attention; go see to it."

Johnny dumped his dishes in the sink as he went to do his chief's bidding.   He refilled the paper towel holder and moved to the closet to get the cleanser out.  By the time he finished, the men gathered around the television to watch "Adam-12."  Their temporary tenant saw the men become engrossed in the show with sarcasm.  But as the program progressed, he too, wanted Reed and Malloy to arrest the drug dealer.  Marco clicked off the television and the captain looked at his charges and then saw the paperwork strewn on the sofa.  "Kelly, is this yours?"

"Yeah, Cap.  I was gonna study for the engineer's test." 

"Again?"  Mike Stoker stacked them into a neat pile, "Wanna hand?"

"Would ya, Mike?  I think it's the math calculations that throw me off."  Chet pointed to the section on water at the scene.  There was a murmur in the dayroom as the men kept their conversations low or found things to read. 

The captain glanced at the clock several hours later, "Dr. Donaldson, there's an extra bunk at my end of the dorm. You can use it." 

"Johnny will help me make it up for you, won't you?"  Roy volunteered as he folded up the newspaper. 

In a short time the men had gotten ready for the night and settled into bed, serenaded by Marco's light snoring.   The lights blazed on, rousing the men.   Station 51.  Person trapped. 17 Jody Lane.  Cross street Moneta.  Timeout  2047. 

There was organized commotion as the crew and their visitor prepared to leave the station.  Johnny trotted to the squad and almost sat on Kent Donaldson's helmet as he launched himself onto the seat.  "Can't they give us more details than that?"  Dr. Donaldson stared out the window, and grabbed for the dashboard when Roy swerved around a van that failed to yield for the emergency vehicle.

Johnny handed the protective headgear to the doctor, "You might want to put this on.  You see, the dispatcher often receives incomplete information."

"Or the person calling in is rattled with the situation," Roy added, slowing at the intersection.

"How do you prepare for what you're going to find then?" 

"You can't always prepare.  The engine is sent with us because we may need the manpower and equipment they carry but until we see what's going on we can't make decisions."  Johnny told him as Roy stopped at the house number.

The paramedics grabbed their medical gear as the captain arrived at the door.  Finally, it opened a crack and a teenager managed to ask in a drunken drawl, "Whad ja want?" 

"We got a report that someone's trapped." The captain briefed him.

"It's Sheila," a voice called out.  The door opened wider and the men filed in, following their host whose unsteady swagger emphasized his inebriation.  He stopped in the den, pointing to a sixteen-year-old female with long straight strawberry blonde hair.  She wore a square necked Mexican blouse with embroidery and fraying bell-bottom jeans. 

As he came closer, Johnny noted a large damp spot on her top, which reeked of alcohol.   It was then he saw the problem.  "Can't get it off?"

"No, and it's starting to hurt."  She replied not hearing the reproach on Kent Donaldson's lips when he spotted a pull-tab from a nearby beer can stuck on her left ring finger.

Roy put his helmet down near her and picked up her hand.  "What happened?"

"Reggie proposed to me tonight," she explained, flinching as Roy examined her.  "I insisted he have a ring and this was all he could find."

"And you called the fire department for this!"  Dr. Donaldson broke in with disgust, "And I thought I'd seen everything."

The captain pulled his handi talkie out of his turnout coat, "I don't think you'll need us."  LA, Engine 51 available.  Squad 51 out 15 minutes.

Johnny went to get the toolbox as the firemen left.  While he was gone Roy questioned the young lady.  "What have you tried to get it off?"

"Nothing.  I wiggled it a lot and Melissa yanked on it.  When I started screaming Reggie called you."  She studied her red, swollen digit.  "Will I wear it the rest of my life?"

Roy chuckled, "I don't think so.  One way or another we'll remove it."  Johnny set the toolbox near him.  "Tell ya what," Roy suggested, "let's go to the kitchen and see if we can't work this off."  The paramedics put ice on it and after several minutes attempted to remove the foreign object without success.  Johnny slathered the faux jewelry with dishwashing detergent and worked it up to her knuckle but he couldn't get it any farther.  The doctor propped himself against the doorjamb, crossed his arms and watched the proceedings.

"Guess we better cut it off," Johnny said at last.  Once he had the pliers in hand he carefully snipped the metal, freeing her finger.  "I don't see any damage but…"

"Doctor, would you like to take a look?"  Roy made space for the man to come up and give his opinion.

Kent Donaldson glowered at him, "I suppose."  He gave it a cursory glance and stepped back.  "Looks fine."

"I agree; it looks like you're fine but if you experience any problems see your family doctor or come to the emergency room."  Roy informed her as he and Johnny went to pick up their equipment.

Kent Donaldson was seething.  A paramedic agreed with him?  How dare he?  How many years training did he have under his belt?  He stomped out to the squad and sat like an angry statue on the way back to the station.  "What a waste of time!  Can you believe what people do?"  Their ridealong uttered as they pulled into the station.  "And you," he directed his remark to Roy, "agreeing with me.  You're just a paid employee of the county."  He stormed off to the latrine. 

Johnny pulled Roy into the kitchen.  "Do you believe him?"  He ducked out to make sure Dr. Donaldson was out of earshot.  "After we rescued the heart attack victim at the refinery fire I thought he was making progress but now he's worse than before he spent time with us!"  Johnny paced around the table several times, filled with exasperation.

"Johnny, he's had a lifetime to develop this mindset and attitude.  One dramatic rescue is not gonna make him do a complete turnaround.  The point is he still doesn't understand people."

"You're darn right he doesn't!   I know our last "rescue" was something that shouldn't have happened but we're all human."

"You know that and I know that but I'm afraid Dr. Donaldson is gonna learn that lesson the hard way.  Now let's go get some rest and hope we don't get called out again."

The two men shuffled quietly into the dorm and slumbered until the tones wakened them. Station 51, Engine 110, Engine 36.  Truck 116. Battalion 7.  House fire.  3933 N. Mariposa.  Cross street Norton.   Timeout 0400.

Kent stumbled to the squad and scrambled in when he saw Johnny holding the door open for him.  "Anyone hurt?"  He asked as they went through an intersection.

"We don't know.  We'll find out at the scene."  Roy slowed down at the intersection and made a left onto Norton.

Engine 36 was already at the scene when they pulled up.  In the dark night Kent Donaldson couldn't see any sign of fire but men in turnouts were scurrying with ladders and hoses and racing around to the back of the house.  36's engineer was adjusting the gauges on the pumper as his captain shouted orders.  A man and woman with soot-streaked faces clung to each other as they looked intently at the house.  Their bodies sagged with relief when a firefighter appeared at the doorway with a six-year-old child in his arms.

"Gage, DeSoto, see if there are any injuries."  Captain Stanley saw them taking charge of the small boy as he gave the command.  Roy placed him on a yellow blanket while Johnny calmed the parents.  Dr. Donaldson came closer to the group as the mother picked up her offspring, rocking him in her arms, "Ernesto, Ernesto!"  Roy gave him oxygen and with a choking cough, he came around.

"Paolo! Paolo!" The urchin repeated over and over, becoming hysterical.    "Paolo esta en la casa!"  Kent Donaldson found himself pushed to the edge of the circle of people surrounding the victims.  From where he stood they had things under control and would call on him when he was needed.  Marco stepped in front of Dr. Donaldson to assist with translation.

As Ernesto's mother comforted him, the doctor was distracted by flames exiting from the vented roof and he failed to hear her tell her son, "Paolo no esta aqui."  

"Quien es Paolo?"  Marco said to the father.

The father answered quickly, "Paolo es su perro.  El permanece con John, su mejor amigo que rompió la pierna." 

"Roy, his father says Paolo is their dog.  He's staying with John, his best friend who broke his leg."  But Marco's interpretation never reached the physician as Ernesto was still sobbing loudly. 

All Dr. Donaldson had heard was that Paolo was still trapped in the house.  He scanned the activity around him and then scrutinized the fire.  From his perspective it looked safe to enter and he had protective gear, a helmet and a turnout coat.  With resolve he decided to rescue Paolo since no one else was making an effort.   Hurtling through the front door he discovered a different environment, one with thick, blinding smoke and a heat more intense than he'd ever felt.  He dropped to his knees shouting, "Paolo!  Paolo!"  He traveled deeper into the house, bumping into furniture and walls.  He felt overwhelmed and then the fumes overcame him. 

Roy and Johnny finished examining the victims.  "Everyone looks okay but we'd like to take them to the hospital to get checked out.  Do you concur, Doctor Donaldson?"  Roy tried to identify the intern in the dim light. 

"Anybody seen Donaldson?"  Johnny asked when they got no response.  "Cap!  We can't find Donaldson!  He was here just a minute ago."

The captains did a quick roll call and accounted for everyone except the doctor.   After a brief search they all reached one conclusion.  He was in the structure.

"Stoker, keep an eye on the victims.  DeSoto, Gage, get a lifeline. Lopez, Kelly, you're on backup."  As they vanished Stoker got the oxygen off the engine.  He and Captain Stanley kept their attention fixed on the building waiting for the crew to reappear.

The firefighters tied the ropes around their waists, adjusted their air masks and entered the dwelling.  Making a search of the living room, they found nothing.  Roy had just crawled into a tiny dining room when he touched a body with his glove.  "I think I got something!" he shouted, his voice muffled by the air mask.  Johnny came to his side and helped Roy put the still man over his shoulder.  Then the two paramedics sped out the door.  Johnny laid the doctor on the ground and took the blood pressure cuff out of Roy's hand.  The captain had the biophone primed and Marco positioned the oxygen mask on his face.  Clicking on his flashlight, Roy inspected the doctor's airway and checked his pupils. 

"BP's 90/60; pulse is 130 and steady and respirations are 28."  Johnny told the captain.  "Finding any burns, Roy?"

Roy shook his head as he saw the intern move.  "He's really lucky.

Captain Stanley began the report, Rampart, this is Squad 51. 

10-4, 51.  Dr. Brackett replied, picking up a notebook and pencil at his end of the communication.

We have 4 victims of a house fire.  Victim number 1 is a male, 25-years-old, suffering from smoke inhalation.   Vitals are:  BP:  90/60.  Johnny shook his head as he got a new reading.  Correction Rampart, BP was 90/60; it's now 100/70.  Pulse is 132 and respirations are 30.  We have him on 6 liters of O2.  Victims 2-4 have no injuries and are in good condition but we'd like to bring them in to get checked out.

51, start an IV with NS on Victim 1 and transport.  Is he conscious?

Kent Donaldson opened his eyes and reached up to remove the mask.  He's coming around now.

Dr. Brackett tapped his pencil on the paper, "51, where's Donaldson?"

"He's our victim." 

Dixie had just joined the doctor, "Did he say Dr. Donaldson?  What happened?"

"Smoke inhalation," Kel Brackett saw Dixie's expression, "I don't understand it either.  Do you know where his father is?" 

"Dr. Kent Donaldson, Sr. just went upstairs to perform gall bladder surgery on the patient Squad 110 brought in."

At the scene, Paramedic DeSoto tore off tape to affix the IV he was preparing to insert.  "Paolo!"  Their patient managed to say, his voice hoarse.

"Paolo?"  Johnny looked across to Roy. 

Marco, overhearing the communication, knelt by the man's head, "Doctor, Paolo is the boy's dog.  He was never in the house.  Did you think…?"

Kent emitted a moan, "I, I thought a person was trapped."  A wince crossed his face as Roy stuck him with the IV needle. 

"And since no one was making a move to do anything you decided to rescue him?"  Roy discerned, adjusting the drip on the saline solution.

Johnny picked up their trash as the ambulance attendants drew near. "Didn't you think we woulda been hustling if that had been the case?

"I was, I am a cretin," Dr. Donaldson berated himself.    "How could I have been so foolish?" 

"I'll go in with him," Roy lifted the drug box off the ground and joined the men making their way to the ambulance.  As soon as the door latched, he leaned over his patient, getting a new set of vitals.  Roy noted the improvement, "Doctor, you made a mistake.  It took guts to go into a burning building."

"No, I was a lunatic, a simpleton," Kent refused to make eye contact with the paramedic, "what I did was stupid!"

Roy attempted to console the man yet again, "Dr. Donaldson, don't beat yourself up over this."  The intern grew silent. 

Dr. Brackett and Nurse McCall met the gurney as Roy accompanied it into the hospital.  "How's he doing?" 

"He didn't have any difficulties on the way in," Roy spotted Johnny accompanying the family members from the house fire and went to assist him.

The attendants transferred Kent Donaldson to an examination table and Kelly Brackett came in to look him over and order tests.  He left in a rush when a Code Blue was announced over the loudspeaker.  A few minutes later, Head Nurse McCall bustled into the intern's room to take blood.  "Johnny and Roy would like to see you; they're waiting outside."

Without waiting for an answer from the patient, she nudged open the door and the two paramedics entered.  Roy acted as the spokesman, "We just wanted to see you before we headed back and say we're glad you're gonna be okay." 

The disptacher's voice came through the handi talkie in Johnny's hand, terminating their time together.  With a quick wave the men trotted out of the room. 

"I expected them to lecture me!"  He spat out the words bitterly.

"They could have, but they didn't."  Dixie untied the tourniquet from his arm as the vial filled with blood.  After she marked the label, she gave the medico her full attention.  "I may be outta line saying this Dr. Donaldson, but you are gonna listen to me.  Okay, you made a mistake.  Who's been calling you stupid?  The firefighters?  The hospital staff?  No, only you!   I imagine you've been perfect all your life.  Never made an error.  Well, welcome to the human race, Doctor.  We all make mistakes!  How does it make you feel?   Remember that!  That's how your patients feel when they've cut their hand on a tin can lid or broken their ankle jumping over the garden hose."

Kent was discombobulated but before he could form a word she took a breath and pressed on.  "You, doctor, are a caregiver.  People come to you for treatment, not judgment.  You can learn from this experience or become bitter and let the anger fester in you.  I can't make that decision for you but the people I consider the best in health care have hearts and understanding."   She picked up his blood sample and headed for the exit. 

Kelly Brackett, returning to the room, held the door open for his favorite nurse.  As she left, he noted her stern look and fiery eyes.  He had a pretty good idea of what had transposed.

"How ya doin'?"

"I'm recovering."

Dixie got ahold of you, didn't she?  She packs quite a punch," Brackett gave him an understanding smile.  "You know she's right."

"Could ya warn me that she's coming next time?"  Kent's lips turned upward.

"Sorry, I never get forewarning either."

"You mean she's done it to you?"

"Yeah, more than once.  In fact, I wasn't too excited about the paramedic program and she made me see its value."

Kent Donaldson absorbed that information with disbelief.  "Dr. Brackett, I've been a fool."

"Kent, the important thing is that you've learned something."

"Sure have, now I'm an educated fool who has more to learn than I ever expected!"

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