Ouch!

By Rona

Everyone thought it was hilarious. Johnny knew, with a sinking feeling, that he would be hearing the story again and again for years. After all, how many firemen got whacked in the eye by a woman’s girdle? Chet Kelly even went so far as to ask Johnny if he’d arranged it all on purpose.

Then there were the comments about the black eye everyone thought he should develop. Johnny had had black eyes before and he really didn’t want another one. Luckily, his eye was okay.

Until later that day, at least.

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The tones went for a big fire just about 11pm. Sighing, for a fire at that time of night usually meant that they wouldn’t get any sleep at all, the crew of station 51 rolled themselves into their turnouts and headed off. When they arrived, they found that everybody was out and the paramedics grabbed a hose to help fight the fire.

Late on in the night, as the flames were finally coming under control, Johnny went back to the squad for a drink. He knew that Roy would be following him in a few moments. He stripped off his air tank and put it down, easing his sore back muscles as he did so.

Stepping back into the shadow cast by Engine 51, Johnny didn’t see the hose snaking beneath his feet. Moments later, it charged and Johnny, who was still moving, tripped, falling his whole length. His head bounced sharply off the ground.

Without being aware of it, Johnny scrambled to his feet, clasping both hands over his right temple, feeling the hot rush of blood trickling through his fingers and running down his sleeves. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he knew he needed help at once.

Turning cautiously, he spotted Mike Stoker manning the engine and called, “Mike, I need some help.”

Stoker’s reaction came as something of a surprise to Johnny. “What happened?” Mike gasped, grasping his friend by the elbow and steering him towards the squad’s running board. Glancing around, Mike yelled, “Hurry, Roy! Johnny’s hurt!”

Stunned by the news, Roy DeSoto ran over to gape at Johnny in astonishment for a moment. “What happened?” he asked, gently moving Johnny’s hands aside to look at the two inch long gash down Johnny’s temple. “Did you black out?”

“No,” Johnny assured him. “I fell. My head bounced.” He winced as Roy gently touched the ragged wound.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Roy asked, gently placing a pressure dressing on the injury. Blood was dripping from Johnny’s elbow.

“Skinned my elbow and knee,” Johnny answered, trying to control the shiver that threatened to overtake him. He failed. “Shock, huh?” he muttered when he saw that Roy had noticed it.

“Sure is,” Roy replied. “Mike, get me a blanket please?” He took a quick look at the elbow and knee, but they looked superficial. By then, Mike was back with a blanket, and he draped it over Johnny’s shoulders. “We need to get you to Rampart,” Roy told his partner.

“I know,” Johnny agreed. For once, he didn’t mind.

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There was no concussion, but it took some ingenuity to get the butterfly stitches to close the ragged gash on Johnny’s temple. The scrapes on his elbow and knee had a lot of dirt imbedded in them, but hadn’t bled much. On the way in, Johnny noticed he had sprained his other ankle. He could walk on it all right, but it surely did hurt! The ankle was x-rayed and strapped up and Johnny went home with Roy.

After spending all day at Roy’s, Johnny insisted on going home. He wanted to sleep in his own bed and since he wasn’t concussed, there was no reason why he shouldn’t go home. Reluctantly, Roy agreed. Johnny headed straight for bed when he went in and fell asleep at once.

When he woke next morning, Johnny couldn’t open his right eye. His whole eye, which hadn’t been bruised the day before, was dark purple. His mouth would barely open and eating was a nightmare. Johnny found himself back at Rampart for facial x-rays; luckily, they were negative, too.

It was almost 6 weeks before Johnny’s ankle was healed enough to allow him to return to work. He still had green bruising on his cheek, elbow and knee, but it had faded and his eye had been thoroughly checked out to make sure he hadn’t detached his retina. Just for once, Johnny had been lucky. The fall had left him with a tender scar on his temple.

He had been back at work three shifts before he realised that Chet wasn’t winding him up about the girdle incident. “I can’t believe it,” he mentioned to Roy.

Grinning, his partner replied, “Well, you know what to do next time something like that happens to you.”

“What?” Johnny asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Hurt yourself properly,” Roy replied and ducked out of the room.

“Roy!!!” Johnny protested.

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June 2007 Picture Story         Stories by Rona