Seeing is Believing

By Marty P.

The crew of Station 51 pulled up to the intersection.  A 1973 LeBaron, now misshapen by a light pole, caught their attention.  Johnny Gage and Roy DeSoto gathered their gear and got to the blue sedan first.  “We have one victim!”  Roy called to the others.  Johnny gripped the crumpled door, trying to manhandle it open without success.

Marco Lopez hustled over with a crowbar and powered it open.  With the door no longer a barrier, the paramedics transitioned from rescue to medical care.  Johnny scooped a blood pressure cuff out of the lifesaving tackle box, wrapping it around the woman’s arm while Roy DeSoto plucked his flashlight from his pocket and did a pupil check.  Johnny, finished with the vitals, pulled the biocom closer to communicate with the hospital.

Captain Stanley came over to Roy.  “Battery’s disconnected.  No leaking fluids.  Need help with anything?”  Engine 51, are you available?  Seeing Roy briefly shake his head, Hank Stanley spoke into his handie talkie.  “Engine 51, available.”  Engine 51, assist Squad 14.  Child bitten by dog. 

~*~*~

A short time later, Captain Stanley looked up from the classifieds as the two paramedics entered the dayroom.  “How is she?”

Roy knew he referred to their most recent rescue.  “She has a slight concussion and several broken ribs but she’ll be fine.”

“What happened?”  Chet lifted the knife from the cutting board, laden with celery, and looked toward the others in the room.

Johnny, like a bloodhound, was sniffing around for anything edible.  “She said she just got new bifocals.  As she was driving home, she dropped her hanky and reached over to pick it up.  When she put her eyes back on the road, she couldn’t focus and ran into the pole.” 

Hank Stanley closed the paper and plopped it on top of the other sections.  Then he strolled out to the apparatus bay where Mike Stoker was polishing the chrome on the engine.  “Mike, got a minute?”

“Sure, Cap.”  He put his rag on the cart next to the vehicle and went to the captain’s office.  The tall, lanky man handed him a letter that had come with their daily announcements.   The engineer scanned it and set it on the desk.

“You want me to do this?”  He asked with raised eyebrows. 

The captain laced his fingers and leaned back in his chair.  “Mike, I chose you because I think you’ll do a great job.”

“It’s a week from tomorrow,” Mike clarified, rereading the communication.

Hank Stanley’s chair squeaked as he sat up.  “We’re all set then.” 

“Lunch is on!”  Chet bellowed from the dayroom.

~*~*~

On the next shift, Mike spent even more time than usual with Big Red.  Marco, coming back from emptying the trash, stood at the doorway and watched the engineer study the gauges and then move to polish the seats in the cab.  As Mike disappeared from sight, Marco deposited the can in the kitchen.  Roy, who had gotten an engineer’s textbook out of his car to lend Chet, headed into the station, almost bumping into Mike.  By now Mike had removed a halligan from its compartment and was caressing its smooth finish.   “Sorry about that Mike.” 

“What?  Oh, hi Roy.”  Mike came out of his reverie and wiped an imaginary spot off the tip.  “I can’t think of a better job than being an engineer.”

Roy took in the sight of the Ward LaFrance and tucked the book under his arm.  “If the department let us continue being paramedics and serve as engineers that’s what I’d be doing right now.”  He strolled around the gleaming rig and then glanced over at the smaller rig he drove. 

Johnny traipsed out of the kitchen and headed toward the squad.  Yanking the call slips from the visor, he tapped his partner on the shoulder.  “Roy, we’ve got a minute to log our runs.  Come on.”

“Sure, Johnny.  Be there in a second.”  He paused and took a deep breath before trotting off to the dayroom.  

“Do you have regrets, Roy?”  Johnny asked as he saw the title on the volume Roy set on the table.  His attention returned to his stack of papers and, after scrutinizing the handwriting, he clicked on his green pen and scribbled in the logbook.

Roy peered over his partner’s shoulder, “No, I’m glad I stuck with the squad.”   Johnny continued the task solo.  “Why was it you needed me?”

“When we have busy days the rescues blur, you’re good at remembering.”  Johnny stopped writing as Roy rose.

The senior paramedic reached the doorway.  “I see; two heads are better than one.  I’ll be in the locker room if you need me.”

“Roy!”  Johnny’s diatribe was interrupted by the tones sounding. 

Squad 51.  Child down.  1414 Mountain View.  Cross street Hilldale.    Timeout 1147.

The two men hurried to the vehicle as the captain acknowledged the call.   Roy unhooked his helmet and fumbled to put it on while he turned the key.  The rescue truck flew out of the station and both men envisioned what the scenario might be as they showed up at the address.  No one greeted them when Roy parked in front of the ranch style house.  With gear in hand, Johnny got to the front door first, rapping on it but there was no response.

“Let’s check the back.”  Roy marched around the attached garage, spotting the pool and then woman leaning over a small girl, blowing into her mouth.  Johnny, on his heels, witnessed the same scene.  Reaching over Roy, he unlatched the gate.

Like a well-oiled machine, Roy felt for a pulse while Johnny readied the biocom.   He saw Roy counting the beats with relief, “96.”   Roy nudged the woman, “Ma’am, I’ll take over now.” 

“I was just gone a few minutes!”  The distressed mother explained.  “I went inside to check on her baby brother.  Carol knows she can’t go in the water without me by her side!”  She bit her trembling lips, “When I came outside and couldn’t see her at first and then to find her in the water…”

“Ma’am, how old is your daughter?”  Johnny’s voice brought her back to the present.

She wiped a tear off her face, “Carol’s four.”  The child coughed and her eyes fluttered open.  Johnny wrapped a pediatric cuff around her arm, got a reading and made a note of it. 

“Hi honey,” Roy spoke in a gentle tone to the youngster.  “You worried your mommy.”  

“Mommy!” Carol wailed, her face contorting as she sought her mother.

A calm hand squeezed her daughter’s, “I’m right here.”

Carol examined her mother’s appearance.  The lime green striped blouse clung to her body and the coordinating green skirt dripped.  “You’re wet.”

“Yes, dear.  I am.”  She laughed with relief and then sobered.  “Carol, you know you aren’t supposed to go into the pool.”

“My ball rolled in.  I needed it.”  Carol’s bottom lip quivered. 

“Carol, Mommy and Daddy are gonna talk about this with you later.”  Now don’t cry.”   

Roy took his hand off Carol’s diaphragm, “respirations are 28.”  His eyes met the mother’s.  “She’s gonna be fine, Mrs.?”

“Mrs. Boyd.  Are you taking her to the hospital?”  She asked as Johnny spoke into the biocom’s receiver.

Rampart, this is County 51.

Go ahead, 51.  Dixie’s calm voice came over the radio.

Rampart, we have a 4-year-old female.  Mother reported she found her in swimming pool and started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.  She has regained consciousness.  Vitals are:  BP 96/58, pulse is 96 and respirations are 28.

Continue monitoring vitals and transport, 51.

10-4.

Malcolm and Harold wheeled in a stretcher as Roy closed the drug box.  “I’ll go in with her, Johnny.”

~*~*~

Twenty-five minutes later the two men were en route to the station.  “Ya know we coulda had a totally different outcome with that little girl, Roy.”

“I know.  It only takes a few minutes.  People don’t understand that kids can drown in just a few inches of water either.”  He glanced in the side view mirror and changed lanes.

“People need to watch their children more carefully.”  Johnny asserted, stabbing the dashboard for emphasis.

“I agree, Johnny, but when you’re a parent you can’t keep an eye on them every second.  There’s a tenuous balance between smothering them and letting them grow up.”

Johnny was still speaking as they walked into the dayroom, causing Chet to close the newspaper he’d been reading.  “Soliloquizing again, Gage?  What now?  The mystery of the universe?”

“For your information, we were talking about parents being involved in their kids’ lives.”  Johnny was drawn to the ad for Albertson’s Foods sitting on the table.  “Look, hamburger’s on sale this week.  Only $.69 a pound.”

“Trust you to get excited over the price of meat.”  Chet needled, clearing off the kitchen table.

Johnny peered at the clock and then frowned at the lack of activity in the kitchen.  “When’s lunch?”

“I’m up today, Johnny.  I was with you, remember?”  Roy went to the fridge to pull out cold cuts and the fixings that accompanied them.  “If you pitch in it’ll be ready sooner.”

~*~*~

Several days passed and the A-Shift was on duty again.  At roll call, Captain Stanley assigned duties and read from his clipboard.  With that accomplished, he faced his troops.  “Dismissed.”

“Wait a minute, Cap.  You didn’t give Mike anything to do.”  Chet complained.

The captain, who had turned away, pivoted to face the curly-haired fireman.  “Kelly, are you questioning my authority?”

Chet grew red-faced, “Oh no, sir.  It, well, I just wondered…” 

“He’s giving a tour today.”  Hank Stanley hid a smirk while he watched the man squirm. 

“I’ll trade him latrine duty for giving a tour to bright-eyed school kids.”  Chet offered, gazing at the rest of the crew. 

The captain shook his head, “No, I decided Mike was the right man for this group of children.”   He clapped his hand on Chet’s shoulder.  “Tell ya what, Kelly.  We’re visiting the Sunny Valley Senior Center next week.  I’ll let you give the safety lecture.” 

“Cap, I did that last month.  I had to repeat myself six times and Mrs. Hammersmith pinched me.”  Chet cringed at the memory.  He sped away from his superior and retrieved the cleaning supplies from the closet. 

After the men dispersed, Mike readied an extra set of gear and positioned a length of hose with a nozzle next to the turnouts.   Roy came out to the bay and handed Mike a cup of coffee.  “Need a hand?”

Mike took a gulp and began his routine check of the engine.  “Thanks, Roy, but I’m good.”  Fifteen minutes later he was satisfied that Big Red was ready to face the day, whatever it held.  

The klaxons went off, followed by the dispatcher’s voice.  Squad 51.  Eye injury.    Intersection of Ellis and Oak.  Timeout 0841.

~*~*~

When the squad rolled up, the paramedics observed a group of boys huddled on an empty field.  Heads bobbed up, and in their midst was a lad, laying on the ground.  As they got closer, a lady rushed out of a nearby house, drying her hands on a terrycloth apron.  Her heels clattered on the pavement as she came toward them.  “I called.  One of those hooligans injured that child.” 

“Aw, c’mon, Mrs. Willigers.  We was just seeing if we could skip rocks on the dirt.  We didn’t know Brian would run up to us.  It was an accident.”   The ringleader scuffed a cloud of dirt as he looked away from the woman.

Roy knelt over the youngster who was holding his right hand to his face.    A trickle of blood could be seen seeping down his cheek.  “We’ll take a look.” 

“Are you his mother?”  Johnny asked the matron, who was still glaring at the boys.

She shook her head, “Of course not!  I wouldn’t let my child play with them!”  Her stern look finally provided the action she wanted and the boys scattered.

“My mom’s at work,” Brian informed Roy. 

Johnny dropped beside the boy with the BP cuff in hand as Roy reached for the arm that Brian was using to cover his face.  “Can I take a look?”

“Is it real bad?” Brian sniffled.  His sharp intake of breath was audible as Roy inspected his injury with gentle fingers.  He winced as Roy flicked light into his eye.

“Did you black out at all?”  Johnny dragged the biocom closer to him as Roy blotted the blood from the cut above his eye.

Mrs. Willigers crouched over Brian.  “Is he okay?”

Roy recited the vital signs to Johnny, who, as he jotted them down, noted that they were all normal.  Then he answered the lady’s question.  “I think he’ll be fine but we need to take him to the hospital for them to check him over.” 

“Wait, my children use the same doctor as Mrs. Harkins, Brian’s mom.  Could I call her and take him to the doctor?”  She motioned Johnny to follow her.  When they were several feet away, Mrs. Willigers lowered her voice.  “You see, Brian’s dad died last year and his mom has been working hard to make ends meet.  I try to keep an eye on him.” 

Johnny glanced at Roy who was now chatting with the boy and contemplated her request.  “You’ll definitely call his mother?”  He thought further; “we have to get a signature from his guardian if she refuses treatment.  I don’t know.”

“What if you come with me while I call and you can talk to her and she can give me permission to sign the paper for you?”  Mrs. Willigers was convincing.

“Roy, you doing okay with Brian?”  Johnny called over to his partner who had put a bandage on his cut.

“Do you know if anyone around here could give us some ice?  I think it would help the swelling.”  Roy returned to the story he was telling Brian about the time Chris pushed a marble up his nose.

“Why don’t we kill two birds at one time?  I’ve got ice and we can call Brian’s mother at the same time.”  Before Johnny could reply Mrs. Willigers was off.

Johnny followed her, “All right, let’s see what she says.”  He galloped back to the drug box to pull out a form.   Mrs. Willigers opened her address book and located Mrs. Harkins’ work number.  Several minutes later Johnny left her home carrying a bag of ice and the medical release form.   Mrs. Willigers snatched her sweater and purse, darting after him. 

“I wish Brian had been able to go away to camp like my kids did this week,” she commented as they returned to the field.  “Brian, I just spoke to your mom.  I’m gonna take you to Doctor Estrada.  He’ll fix you right up.” 

Roy took the ice from Johnny and put it on Brian’s face.  “Just hold it here next to your eye.  It’ll make it feel better.”

Roy led Brian to Mrs. Willigers’ station wagon.  After they left, the paramedics slid their equipment back into the squad.  Johnny swung the doors, facing his partner, “how did his eye look?”

“The pupil reacted normally and I didn’t see any damage.  He was really lucky.”   Neither spoke for a minute as they recalled a past rescue where a rock had blinded a boy the same age as Brian.

“Ready?”  Roy latched the compartment and headed to the driver’s side while Johnny hung his helmet in the cab. 

~*~*~

The paramedics were just sharing the last rescue with the members of 51 when the doorbell rang.  “I’ll get it!”  Marco sang out.  He pushed the button to raise the door and saw an adult and six children, holding hands.  “Welcome to Station 51.”   

“I’ll take it from here,” Mike announced as he came out to the apparatus bay and Marco went back to the kitchen.

The woman stepped closer and held out her hand, “I’m Mrs. Terrell.”    She was in her early forties and her short dark hair had several strands of gray sprinkled in it.  She wore a denim skirt and a red and white checked blouse.  She stooped in front of the children.  “Now, don’t touch anything without permission.”  She took the hand of the child closest to her and led him into the station.

“Boys and girls.  My name is Mike and I drive the big engine that’s here at the station.  Before we look at it I want to show you what all the men wear when they go into a fire.”  He guided the children to the corner where the gear awaited. 

“Every fireman wears a helmet to protect his head.”  He gave the headgear to Mrs. Terrell first. 

“Here, Jason.  Put it on and then give it to Sarah.”

“It’s heavy.”  Jason’s fingers scanned the surface.  He felt the chinstrap and then set it on his head.  At last he removed it and put it in Sarah’s hands.  When each of them had had a turn Mike picked up the air bottle, which was attached to a regulator.

“The firemen wear special air when they go into fires because it helps them breathe.  Often, the air at fires is very dangerous.”  The regulator made a hissing sound.  “That’s what it sounds like. If you’re ever in a fire and you hear this it means a fireman is coming to help you.  Don’t be afraid.” 

Mrs. Terrell embellished what Mike said. “There’s a special cap that goes over your head to keep a mask over you face.”  She tapped the faceplate. 

“I’ll give you each a chance to wear this if you want.”  He held out the unit.  “Now, even though the men wear this they still stay low in a fire because it’s much cooler and safer.” 

Kyle held out his hands and Mike put the air bottle into them.  “Wanna try it on?”

The boy nodded.  Mike positioned it over Kyle’s face and threaded his arms through the shoulder straps.  “How’s that feel?”  Kyle fingered the equipment.  “Now, just breathe like you usually do.”  The seven-year-old complied.  Mike took it off Kyle and gave each of the children an opportunity to use it.  Mark wanted nothing to do with it and Stacy got scared when Mike put it on her.  He patted her shoulder when he lifted it off.  “That’s okay.” 

“So, we looked at a helmet and something to help a fireman to breathe.  Is he all set to run into a fire now?”

“No!  He needs a special jacket,” Jason answered in a loud voice.

Ted, who had been quiet up until now chimed in, “and boots.”

“And pants,” Sarah scratched her nose as she replied.

“That’s right.  Now anyone that would like can try everything on.”  Mike shoved the turnouts closer.  “I think the only thing you missed was gloves.  Good job, everyone.”

A few minutes later Mike was ready to move on to the next phase.  “Now, the firemen are all suited up in the stuff we just talked about.  Are they ready to put out a fire if they run into a building now?”

Mark shoved his hands in his pockets and answered in a tentative voice, “They need water.”

Mike brought the length of hose forward.  “That’s right.  This hose is made out of fabric and we shoot a lot of water through it.  He let the children touch it.  “Did you notice the nozzle at the end?  We use that so we can control and aim the water where we want it to go.” 

“Can we try it?”  Jason begged. 

Mrs. Terrell intervened, “this hose is heavy when the water comes through it.   I don’t think you children could handle.”

“We’ll see if we have time to do anything with it later,” Mike promised as he set it on the floor.

“I bet we’re gonna see the engine next,” Ted bounced with excitement. 

Mike chuckled, “we will but first I want to point out another vehicle that works out of this station.”   

With a lull in the workday, the other members of Station 51 came out to watch the tour.  Mike had his back to the squad, “Anybody ever cut themselves badly or get really sick?” 

“My friend Steve had to go to the hospital when he broke his leg.”  Mark informed the fireman. 

Mike smiled, “Well, behind me is a special truck that carries medical equipment to help people when they are injured or don’t feel good.  The firemen have special training and are called paramedics.”   He opened several compartments and took out the oxygen tank and the trauma box.  “You can take a closer look if you want.”  He backed out of the way and the children placed their inquisitive fingers on the truck.

“They’re bl-“ Chet blurted out.

“Sh!”  Roy interrupted. 

Mrs. Terrell came over to them.  “You’re right, young man.  They are blind but they often see more than any of us.  I wanted to give them the opportunity to experience a fire station.”

A hand shot up, “Yes, Stacy?”  Mrs. Terrell bent near the little girl with bright blue eyes. 

“Can we hear the siren now?” 

“Sure, but it’s loud.  You okay with that?”  Mike skirted them toward the engine.  “Tell ya what.  I’ll turn on the lights first.”  He climbed up into the cab and flipped the switch.

“I feel them!”  Jason screamed with excitement. 

Marco closed his eyes.  “He’s right.  There’s a vibration.” 

“Everybody ready?  I’m gonna turn the siren on now.”  He waited a few seconds and then the hearty wail of the siren echoed throughout the apparatus bay.

There was a shriek and then Mrs. Terrell fell to the floor.  Mike cut off the sound while Johnny and Roy raced to the woman’s side.  Marco and Chet dragged the biocom and drug box from the squad, hauling them over to the paramedics. 

“What’s the matter with Miz Terrell?”  Mark inquired, a look of fear covering his face.

Mike knelt in the midst of the children.  “Don’t be afraid.  It looks like Mrs. Terrell is ill and the men I told you about are taking care of her.”

“She’s got Betty,” Ted insisted.  “She told us.”

“Betty?”  Johnny questioned with a confused face.  He reached for her pulse and saw the medical bracelet.  “She’s a diabetic, Roy.”

Roy got on the biocom while Johnny took vitals.  “BP is 100/70; pulse is 130 and respirations are 24.”

The captain came over to them.  “I called it in and an ambulance is on the way.  How is she?” 

Chet joined Mike.  “Why don’t we show you our kitchen?”  Chet suggested.  “I bet we could rustle up some chocolate milk for you.”

 Rampart, this is Squad 51.  How do you read?

Read you loud and clear, 51.   Dr. Brackett saw Joe come toward the base station to listen in.

“What’s going on,” Mark hesitated, confused.

Marco described it for him. “The paramedics are on a special radio talking to a doctor at a hospital right now.  The doctor will tell them how to take care of Mrs. Terrell.”  He squeezed his shoulder.  “She’s gonna be okay.”

“Thanks, mister.”  Mark grabbed for Stacy’s arm and Mike led them into the kitchen. 

“Cap, would you put her on oxygen?”  Johnny was now checking her for any injuries.

Rampart, we have a female in her early forties who collapsed. Her medic alert bracelet indicates that she is a diabetic.    Roy gave the vitals to the hospital and concluded by adding, we have her on 6 liters of oxygen.   

51, get a blood sample, start an IV with NS and administer 50% dextrose IV push.  Transport as soon as possible and give me a new set of vitals in five minutes. 

Roy repeated the orders and set the receiver down.  He located the dextrose while Johnny started the IV.  The ambulance siren could be heard coming toward them.

Mike, anticipating the children’s alarm, spelled out what was going on.  “That’s an ambulance coming to take Mrs. Terrell to the hospital.  Johnny and Roy, our paramedics, will go with her on the trip in.”

The ambulance backed into the driveway and the children stood at the doorway to the apparatus bay.  “I hear doors.”  Stacy stated.

“And something rolling,” Ted added.

Chet saw the attendants coming toward Mrs. Terrell.  “You’re right that’s a stretcher that Mrs. Terrell will ride on.” 

The boys and girls were quiet as they listened to the men load their teacher.  After the ambulance and squad left the scene, Mike spoke to the children.  “We’ll call your school so they know what happened.” 

~*~*~

A week later the doorbell rang at the station, “I’ll get it.”   Chet set the mop he’d been using against the wall and waited for the electric door to open. 

“Hello, I’m Mrs. Terrell.  We were here a week ago.”

“Yes, ma’am, I remember you.  How are you?”  Chet led them toward the dayroom.

“The children and I wanted to give something to Mike Stoker, the fireman who spoke to us when we were here.”  She opened a large envelope and pulled out manila cards with bumps on them.

Mike took what she proffered.  “I’m afraid this time I’m at a disadvantage.”  He felt the cards.

“Who wants to read theirs to Mr. Stoker and then I’ll write down what they say.”  Jason stepped forward and she gave him his letter.

He read the Braille writing aloud, “Dear Mike.  Thanks for showing us what you do.  You took care of Mrs. Terrell, too.  Jason”

Mrs. Terrell pulled out a pen.  “This one is from Ted.  It says.  ‘Dear Mike, I liked the fire stashun.  Can we have anuther tour?’”  She tsked, “Ted, we need to work on your spelling.”  She translated the rest of the notes for Mike and presented them to him again. 

“Thank you, boys and girls.”  Mike scraped his chair back from the table, “do you have a little time?  Ted’s right you didn’t finish the tour.”

“Can we see the engine?”  Mark piped up.

“Sure can,” Mike guided them out to the fire truck.  “It’s my favorite thing at the station.”

Captain Stanley came out of his office and saw his crew watching Mike with the children. 

“You were right, Cap.”  Chet said in a soft voice, “Mike was the right man to give this tour.”

Hank Stanley listened in for a few minutes.  “Mike doesn’t say a lot but he sees things.  I knew he’d do a great job.” 

*Click on the picture of Mike to send Marty feedback

Stories by Marty P.        Guest Dispatchers