Thorn In My Side (Volunteer Part II) By Peggy J. Bedingfield

Roy stood in front of his locker. He gently swiveled his arm in a circular motion. A slight pain raced along the inner part of his arm, but it was bearable compared to two months earlier; before the surgery to repair the ligaments he had torn.

Johnny entered the locker room, whistling a tuneless cacophony of sound. He swung open his locker door and proceeded to change from street clothes to uniform. He glanced at his partner and grinned.

“Morning, Pally! How’s the arm?”

“Feels great. It’s really nice to be able to move it again without hurting all the time!” Roy answered with a grin of his own. He glanced again at his partner and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Where’d you get that scratch?” He pointed to a red scar running down Johnny’s side and disappearing into the belt line of his pants.

“Oh, that? It’s several weeks old now. There was a brush fire in the canyon. I was helping old man Perkins cut a firebreak along the property line and got caught by some old barbwire. Hurt like the devil for a couple of days, but then I got used to it and it quit hurting. You know, one of those little cuts you never remember getting when it happens, but later on it hurts like crazy?” Johnny explained.

Roy shook his head. Johnny and his ‘little’ cuts and bruises would have set a normal person on edge, or worse, to the hospital many times over. He paused in lacing up his shoes and looked up at his partner. He studied Johnny’s movements as he dressed and noticed other ‘little’ cuts, bruises and some minor contusions along that dotted his partner’s torso.

“Is it my imagination, or do you have more ‘little’ boo-boo’s than usual?” Roy asked. Some of the cuts looked deep.

“Nah, just the normal amount. I’ve been really working on getting the dry brush out away from the house and barn. You only notice these cause they are still fresh.” Johnny zipped up his pants and sat on the bench to change his shoes. “I always have some bumps and scrapes when I come in.”

“That’s true, but you seem to be acquiring more than usual these last few months. I thought you said you weren’t going to join the volunteer fire department there in Bear Canyon.”

“I did, and I’m not. I told you, I’ve just been really working on cleaning out brush. It’s hard work and you got to expect some minor injuries.” Johnny said in exacerbation. He slammed his locker door and left the locker room. “You want some coffee before roll call?”

Roy sighed. He closed his locker and followed Johnny to the day room. Johnny handed him a cup then poured coffee for both of them.

“Look,” Roy said, continuing their conversation from the locker room, “I didn’t mean to sound nosey, but, well, I just don’t want to see you get to over worked! I mean, you work here doing a hard job, then to go home and do the same type job on your days off?”

“That’s why it’s called ‘VOLUNTEERING’ and I told you, I’m not part of the fire department there!”

Captain Stanley entered the room, “Who volunteered for what?”

“Nothing, Cap,” Johnny said, glaring at his partner. “Roy’s just playing worried daddy, again.” Johnny walked away and sat at the table. He pulled part of the paper towards him and buried his nose in the sports section.

“Well, you two need to work it out between yourselves. Roll call in five minutes.” Hank walked from the room, coffee cup refilled.

Roy stood quietly by the counter, sipping his coffee and watching his partner read the paper. He grinned when Johnny absently reached down and scratched at the cut on his side. “Uh huh, not bothering you, is it?” he thought.

“Roll call!” Captain Stanley called out. The men scurried from the different parts of the station and lined up in the truck bay. They stood looking with curious eyes at Roy when Johnny pointedly walked by his partner without looking at him, or speaking to him.

“Okay, men, this morning we will be doing some routine drills with the new hoses that came in yesterday during C-shift. Roy, you and Johnny have a paramedic meeting at eleven at Rampart. The Fire Department picnic is in three months and volunteers are being asked to help out with the planning.” A slight groan was heard from someone and Hank glared at the men until his eyes lighted on Johnny. He raised an eyebrow in question, but kept on with his announcements.

“Now, chores for today. Mike; engine bay and day room. Marco and Chet, you have the hoses. Roy, you have the dorm and Johnny, latrine. Marco, you get to cook today. Any questions? Then let’s get started.” Captain Stanley went to his office for the ever-present paperwork and the men scattered to their respective jobs.

Johnny and Roy did their morning equipment check then split up to do their assigned chores. Roy watched with amusement as Johnny disappeared into the latrines. He knew it had been Johnny that groaned at the mention of volunteers.

Roy quickly stripped the beds and remade them. He got out the mopping supplies and saw Johnny bending over the sink, his shirt open. Concern crossed his features. He really did not care how Johnny felt, he did worry about his best friend, and right now it looked as though he was hurting more than he let on. Roy walked to the door and stood watching as Johnny carefully washed the scratch on his side. He grimaced when the water hit a spot sloe to the belt line. Reaching out for a paper towel, he saw his partner’s reflection in the mirror.

“What?” he asked, guardedly.

“How bad is that cut, Junior?” Roy asked, but did not wait for a reply. He reached out and slipped the shirt away from the red mark and followed it down with his eyes. The mark was dark red, but no scab was visible. A deep purple bruise, however, was visible. Roy motioned to it, “Where’d that come from?”

Johnny stood up and looked his partner in the eye. “A rock flew up from the ground while we were cutting some small trees down to make a fire break. It caught me in the ribs and bounced off. It is just a bruise. There are no broken ribs or punctured lung, or anything else for you to look so worried about!” Johnny buttoned his shirt and tucked it back in. He grabbed the mop and bucket and headed for the dorm. “Here, I made some mop water for you.”

“Why were you putting water on the scratch?” Roy asked, determined to know the exact amount of damage his partner had sustained during his recuperation period.

“Because I got some of the cleaning fluid on my shirt and it soaked through. I didn’t want to get a chemical burn!” Johnny said in exacerbation.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I’m over doing the concern part, but you can’t come to work all beat up and think no one would notice!”

“Hey,” Johnny grinned, “I’d think you were mad at me if you didn’t act so concerned.”

Roy stretched out his hand, “Give me the mop, you nut!”

“Roy, I haven’t joined the Volunteer Fire Department. I explained to them why it wouldn’t be a good idea,” Johnny said to his partner. “They understood and are okay with it. I go out only if they have no one else to call on, and then, only if it is a medical call. No fires or rescues.”

“You’re a good man, Junior,” Roy said as he dipped the mop into the bucket and started to push it around, “Now, get out of here and let me get the dorm finished.”

The tones sounded, making everyone jump. Mops hit the floor, and the hose lay in a crumpled pile as the men raced to their vehicles.

“Engine 51……rubbish fire…..2234 Old Mill Road……2-2-3-4- Old Mill Road…..cross street Holly Lake Road….time out 11:23.

“Engine 51 KMG 365,” Captain Stanley acknowledged.

Roy and Johnny stopped as the call came through. They returned to their chores as the engine roared to life and Mike expertly guided it out of the bay.

“Man, a rubbish fire,” Johnny said. “I’m glad we didn’t have to go! It’s already so hot I can cut the air with a knife!” Johnny went towards the day room, then stopped and asked, “You want a cup of coffee, or something else to drink?”

“Not right now. I’ll be in there in just a minute. There’s not much left to do in the dorm.” Roy said. He watched Johnny carefully as he turned to leave. It was not that hot and Johnny’s statement of being overly warm made his radar go into action. He decided that next time they made a run to Rampart he would have one of the doctors check Johnny to be certain he was not hurt worse than he let on. Johnny, he knew, would hate to be put back on leave after having come off sick leave two weeks previously. Roy went back to mopping, unaware that his partner was indeed in more pain than he was letting on.

Lunchtime came and went and Johnny remained quiet. The others had been giving him speculative looks when they thought he could not see. Johnny had not eaten much, saying the heat was making him lose his appetite. Captain Stanley looked at his junior paramedic thoughtfully, but did not say anything.

After lunch he had gone into his office and closed the door. The men could hear him talking on the telephone, but the closed door muffled his words. Mike caught Chet listening at the door, and gave him such a fierce look that he slipped away, still none the wiser about his captain’s conversation.

As evening came, the station began to cool off and the men began to move around more. Johnny was raiding the refrigerator when Captain Stanley walked in.

“Johnny, can I talk to you a minute?” he asked.

“Uh, sure Cap,” Johnny said, uncertain what he might have done.

Chet raised his brows as Johnny passed by. “Shut up, Chet!” Johnny said.

“What?” Chet asked the others in the room.

They just sat and looked at Chet, each wondering what Johnny had done to be called into the captain’s office. Once Johnny was out of the room all eyes turned to his partner. Roy looked up from the book he was reading and was surprised to see all of them watching him in expectation.

“What?” he asked in annoyance.

Chet wiggled his brows and tilted his head in the direction of their captain’s office. “What’s Johnny done this time?”

“Chet, why does anyone have to do something to be called into the office? You act like Johnny had been called to the principle’s office for fighting, or something!” Roy said angrily. “For all you know, Cap may just want to ask about the Volunteer Fire Department and how it is shaping up!”

“He could do that out here. I was wondering how it was going. He could just tell all of us at once!” Chet said, smugly.

Captain Stanley entered the day room,” Roy, would come join Johnny and me for a minute?”

Roy got up and followed Hank into his office. Johnny was leaning over a map that was spread out on the desk. He was following a line that had been penciled in and adding some marks of his own.

“What’s up?” Roy said, looking first at his partner then at his captain. “What’s the map for?”

“Head Quarters has asked each station to mark out the districts where they serve. The squads go a little farther afield than the engines, so I thought maybe you and Johnny should mark out the boundaries for the squad.” Hank explained. “There have been several Volunteer Fire Departments started since Bear Canyon formed up. HQ thinks we can shrink our boundaries a little with the new departments. We would be used to back them up, like we did Bear Canyon several months ago.

“These volunteer departments seem to be a bigger help than was formally thought to be, and we want to encourage them as much as possible.”

Roy glanced at the map and saw the lines that Johnny and Hank had already drawn in. He stood next to Johnny, studying the lines then reached out and traced a different path, deviating from the original line drawn.

“We don’t go to this area any more,” Roy told them. “110’s covers this area and 36’s cover this area here.” He drew a new line. “What are these colored lines here and here?” he asked, glancing at the Captain.

“The different colors are the different volunteer departments and the boundaries they will cover. This, this and this,” he pointed out, “are the lines where each station will cross over to be back up, should they be needed.” Captain Stanley straightened up from his crouching position.

“Do you think these will really work?” Roy asked, looking from his partner to the captain.

Captain Stanley shrugged and began to fold the map. “We will find out soon enough. The power’s that be are going to be discussing it at the next meeting and will decided how long a trial run to give them. Personally, I think it will be a great help.”

Roy looked at Johnny, “What do you think, Junior? You’re being awfully quiet on the subject.”

Johnny pressed on his side then quickly made as if he were scratching it instead. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t work. We saw how good a job they did at the bridge. And I’ve been witness to those in Bear Canyon several more times since then.”

“Speaking of Bear Canyon, Johnny. Did you join them as a volunteer?” Captain Stanley asked his junior paramedic.

Johnny rolled his eyes, making sure the captain did not see, and answered, “No, I explained to them why it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to join. I think they understood. The only time they call for my help is medical, and only then if Jennifer and Gaylon aren’t available to answer the call.”

“Good. I was worried that you would join. I don’t want one half of the best paramedic team in the county getting put out of commission because he got hurt working with the volunteer units, no matter how good his intentions!” Hank told him.

Johnny ducked his head without answering. He reached up and scratched at his side again.

“Something wrong with your side?” Hank asked.

“Uh, no, I just have a scratch that is itching a little. I’ve been clearing out brush from around the ranch and got a little scratch.” Johnny said, turning a slight shade of pink.

“Why don’t you take a look at it, Roy? Maybe there is some cream or something you can put on it for him.”

“Sure thing, Cap,” Roy said, grinning at Johnny. “Come on, Itchy, let’s get something for that itch.”

“Whatever you say, Scratchy!” Johnny said with an answering grin.

“You’re both a couple of twits, if you ask me,” their Captain said. “Now, out!”

Roy and Johnny laughed at their captain as they left his office. They were talking about the volunteer fire departments popping up around the county and, according to the captain, around the nation.

“Actually, volunteer groups have been around a long time. It’s only recently that they have begun to get any notice. Did you know that in Las Angeles alone, there are over 400 volunteer groups? All the smaller towns in and around the county have at least one fire truck and one rescue truck, be it an ambulance or a First Response truck such as Bear Canyon has now,” Johnny told his partner.

“I didn’t know that. Guess I never really thought much about the smaller towns around here or elsewhere. I guess I just took it for granted that everyone has the same fire and rescue services as we do here,” Roy said, thoughtfully. “Now, open your shirt and let me look at that cut on your side. It looked pretty red when I first saw it. No argument, now, Cap’s orders!” Roy told is partner, who had started to protest.

The tones sounded. Johnny looked relieved at the reprieve. “Saved by the bell!” he said, jumping into the passenger side of the squad.

“STATION 51……..OFFICE FIRE…….3121 HOLLOYWOOD LANE…….CROSS STREET BONNIWVIEW…..TIME OUT 1945.”

“Station 51…KMG365,” Hank acknowledged.

The squad pulled out, followed closely by the engine. Johnny was looking at the map, trying to find the shortest route to the scene. “Take a left at this next light.”

Roy slowed for the turn. He looked to his left before going into the intersection. He saw a small car headed towards them. It appeared to have slowed so Roy continued on. Suddenly the squad jerked and began to spin.

Behind the squad Captain Stanley and the men in the engine stared in surprise. Mike stomped the brakes and the men barreled from the engine. Mike and Marco headed for the small car while Hank and Chet went to the squad.

Roy sat in a daze, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He looked over at his partner, who was looking at him. “You okay?” they asked together.

“Roy? Johnny?” Captain Stanley peered into the window of the damaged squad. “You two hurt?”

“I, uh, no, I don’t think so,” Roy answered, voice shaking. “Johnny, you okay?”

“Y-y-yeah, I think so.” He reached over and pressed his right side slightly and winced. Roy saw the movement and tried to reach over to his partner, but was stopped when his leg did not move from under the dash.

“My leg is trapped!” Roy said in surprise. Chet looked in the window then called over his shoulder to Hank, who had returned to the engine to call in the accident to head quarters. “Cap! Roy’s leg is trapped, and I think Johnny is hurt!”

“I’m not hurt!” Johnny said as he tried to get his door to open. Marco appeared on the outside of the door and with a couple of yanks the door flew open, nearly spilling Johnny to the ground. “How is the driver of the other car?”

Marco shook his head, “He went through the windshield. He didn’t have his seatbelt on.”

Johnny grimaced at the news, then turned his attention to his partner who was still trapped in the squad. “Roy, you hurt anywhere?”

“No, my leg is just stuck on something under the dash. It’s not hurt. How’s your side? I saw you pressing on it.”

“I think I might have bumped it a little hard on the door handle, nothing serious,” Johnny told him. Suddenly he began to cough. He doubled over, holding on to his ribs as the coughing intensified.

“Johnny! Cap, Johnny needs help!” Roy called, frustrated that his leg was still trapped by an unknown something and he could not get to his partner to help him. “Hurry, Chet!” Roy urged his co-worker.

Johnny was sitting on the grass gasping for air. His face was a pale shade of gray and his breathing was labored. Marco had the oxygen from the squad and was putting the mask over Johnny’s face. He kept a hand on the paramedic’s back, offering support each time a cough wracked his body.

Roy felt his leg come free. Not waiting to be sure Chet was clear he clambered over the seat of the squad and was kneeling next to his gasping partner. Johnny looked up at Roy and tried to smile, but another coughing fit shook his body and he doubled over yet again.

“Marco, get the bio-phone and drug box,” Roy ordered. He helped Johnny to the running board of the squad. “Hand me the BP cuff, Marco and get Rampart on the line.” Roy wrapped the cuff around Johnny’s arm. He pumped it up and listened as it deflated. He then took his pulse and respiration.

“Rampart, County 51!” Marco called in. “Rampart, County 5-1, do you read?”

“We read you loud and clear 51, go ahead,” Came Dixie’s voice.

“Rampart, we have a male, twenty eight years old, victim of a MVA. BP is 90 over 60 Pulse is 70 and respiration’s 18 and shallow. Patient is in extreme pain, Rampart. Patient has possible broken ribs, no other sign of injuries. Rampart, be advised, patient is Johnny Gage.” Roy was getting an IV ready, sure that it would be called for any minute.

“51, start an IV D5W, TKO. Administer 2 mg of ms, IV. Take vitals again in two minutes and report.” Dr. Brackett ordered.

“10-4, Rampart. IV D5W, 2mg ms, IV,” Roy repeated.

“Oh man!” Johnny groaned. “Cap’s gonna kill me if I have to take more time off!”

Roy looked at his partner with sympathy. He had a feeling that the injury this time was not from this particular accident, but refrained from saying anything. He deftly started the IV and waited the required time before taking another set of vitals and relaying them to Rampart.

“Rampart, this is County 51.”

“Go ahead, 51,” Brackett replied.

“Rampart, vitals have improved. BP is now 100 over 80, Pulse is 60 and respiration’s 24,” Roy relayed the information.

“10-4, 51. Retake vitals in five minutes. Transport immediately,” Brackett ordered.

“10-4, Rampart. ETA 25 minutes,” Roy said and placed the phone back into the box.

The ambulance pulled up as Roy hung up the bio-phone. Johnny was loaded onto the gurney and into the ambulance. He rolled his eyes, but remained silent all the way to Rampart. Roy watched with interest the emotions crossing his partner’s face.

“Okay, spill it. What did you do to your side and when?” Roy finally said.

“I TOLD you what happened. Al I did was cut down some trees and a rock flew up from the hole and smacked me in the side. I never even gave it a thought!” Johnny said emphatically.

“How hard did it hit you? It had to have been pretty hard since you have a huge bruise on your side and back!” Roy told him.

Johnny began to cough, he tried to double over, but the safety straps held him flat. Roy quickly released the straps and helped his friend sit up. Jeff, the ambulance attendant riding in the back with the two men, raised the head of the gurney so Johnny could sit up. His face began to turn gray as each breath he took became more ragged. Roy could hear his partner wheezing each time he drew a breath, only to begin coughing again.

He listened to Johnny’s lungs carefully, but could not hear any rolls or other sounds that would suggest a blockage of the bronchial passage. He was puzzled at Johnny’s apparent discomfort, and inability to breathe.

Johnny leaned back against the gurney and slowed his breathing. He wheezed a couple of more times then looked at Roy before saying, “I’m tired! All I want to do now is sleep!”

“You need to stay awake, Johnny!” Roy said, worried more and more. “Johnny!” Johnny lay still and quiet on the gurney. His eyes remained closed and he was unresponsive. Roy grabbed the bio-phone and contacted Rampart. “Rampart, this is County 51!”

“Go ahead, 51” Dixie said.

“Rampart, patient has lost consciousness. He is non-responsive to any pain stimulus!”

“What’s your ETA, 51?” Dixie asked.

“Rampart, we have just turned in the drive,” Roy said.

The ambulance stopped and the doors flew open. Dr. Brackett was waiting for them. He quickly assessed the situation, then followed the gurney into the treatment room.

Roy placed the IV bag on the pole then stepped back to give the emergency personnel room to work. He stood quietly by the door, confused about Johnny’s symptoms. Nothing matched with what he knew. Dixie called the lab for tests to be run, then x-ray. She noticed the silent paramedic and took pity on him.

“Come on, Roy, let’s go to the lounge where you can wait in comfort,” Dixie pulled him from the room.

“But, what’s wrong? I didn’t think he was hurt that bad!” Roy tried to resist her pull, but quickly gave in. Arguing with Dixie was always a losing battle. Dixie left him to his thoughts and a cup of coffee. She returned to the treatment room just as Dr. Brackett finished his initial examination. He sighed in frustration.

“Stay with him, Dix. I’ll be back in a minute. I want to do some calling,” Dr. Brackett said. His face twitched, showing how worried he was about Johnny.

Dixie stood by the treatment bed. She was watching the heart monitor when she heard Johnny moan and start to struggle against the covers. She reached out to him, laying her hand on his forehead. He was radiating heat. She put the thermometer under his arm. He calmed as her cool touch relieved some of the heat in his head. She pulled the thermometer from under his arm and read his temperature.

Dr. Brackett re-entered the room and saw Dixie looking at the thermometer. “What’s his temperature, Dixie?”

“105.9°. He is getting restless. What do you think is the problem?” Dixie asked the doctor.

“I’ll know for sure when the tests come back,” Brackett said.

Roy walked through the doors of the treatment room, “Doc, could Johnny’s fever be caused by whatever made that bruise on his side?”

“I saw the bruise, Roy. He came in several days ago with a friend of his that had gotten hurt while they were cutting brush from around his house…” Brackett paused, a look of consternation coming over his face. “Roy, do you know what kind of brush they were cutting?”

“Mostly manzanita trees that were stunted. Why?” Roy asked.

“He complained of a rock hitting him in the ribs. I checked him out. Maybe I missed something…..”Bracket mumbled to himself. He went to Johnny’s still form and raised the sheet covering him. He peered at the dark bruise and humphed to himself. “Roy, help me roll him to his side. I want to get a better look at this bruise.”

Roy and Dixie helped to roll Johnny over. Brackett peered closely at the wound and suddenly exclaimed, “There’s a tiny hole here, and it feels like something is imbedded just under the skin. Dixie, get x-ray down here, let’s see if this might be the cause of his fever!”

“Doc?” Roy asked.

“Manzanita has some pretty wicked thorns. If a person gets cut or scratched by one it can cause a mild irritation and a rash. But if Johnny has one imbedded under the skin, it could have worked its way further in and the irritation could start an infection.

“Dixie, have toxicology run a scan for any organic toxin. It could be along the lines of a spider bite.”

Roy stood, looking perplexed. A tiny little thorn could be making a raging fever in his friend’s body? It did not seem possible, but he knew sometimes even the smallest cuts could become infected and make a person deathly ill.

“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny!” Roy said to himself. “You can’t even do simple yard work without something going wrong!”

“He was scratching at his side all day. I caught him actually pressing on it a couple of times, but never gave it much thought. Then tonight, on this last run when we got hit, he started coughing and having breathing difficulties. You think it could be because of a thorn?”

The x-ray technician entered the room. He looked to Dr. Brackett for orders. “I need a full set on his right side, front and back of the ribs. Get the films back to me stat!”

“Come on, you two, let’s let the man do his job. Thanks, Hank,” Dr. Brackett told the technician.

A nurse walked up to Dr. Brackett as they left the treatment room. She handed him a manila folder, “Here are the test results you asked for, Doctor,” she told him. She smiled at Roy, then turned and left.

Dr. Brackett scanned the results. “Well, it isn’t a virus. But he does have an infection started, and I’m betting we just found it!”

“Then it wasn’t a rock he felt hit his side, it was a thorn imbedding itself,” Roy stated. “Something so little to cause so much trouble.”

“Get him started on 500 cc of penicillin, keep an eye on his vitals. Let me know when he starts to show improvement.” Dr. Brackett eyeballed Roy, “You were in the same accident as Johnny? Were you hurt?”

“No, my leg was caught up under the dash, but I wasn’t hurt. Not even a scratch,” Roy answered.

“Why don’t we check you out just to be on the safe side? I remember not too long ago a certain paramedic was hurt and ‘forgot’ to tell anyone.” Dr. Brackett smiled to let him know there was no criticism intended, but his manner brooked no argument from the paramedic.

A few minutes later Dixie poked her head in the door of treatment room three, “Kel, the x-rays are here. How’s Roy?” she smiled at him. He and Johnny were more special to her than any of the other paramedics in the program.

“I think he’ll live. Have Carol come put a bandage on his leg. Seems he was hurt after all. I just put three stitches in his leg.” He gave Roy an I-told-you-so look then followed Dixie from the room.

Dr. Brackett was studying the x-rays when Roy entered the room. Johnny was still lying on the treatment bed, unmoving. Sweat dotted his brows and upper lip. A young nurse carefully wiped his face dry then replaced the oxygen mask.

“I was right,” Brackett muttered to himself. “There’s an inch long thorn imbedded here above his third rib. It’s started to fester. No wonder he has a fever.”

“How will you get it out? It looks pretty deep,” Roy said.

“I can probably get it out with some hemostats. It isn’t too far in. Dixie, get a ………Oh, good woman!” Brackett said with a smile.

“Remember, I’m a mind reader!” Dixie told him with a twinkle in her eyes. Roy grinned at the two.

“Dixie, get a couple of orderlies in here to hold him. Get Carl Mason in here to do the anesthesia.” Dr. Brackett was washing his hands in preparation of the minor surgery he was about to perform. Dixie motioned to Roy he would need to leave the room.

Roy saw Captain Stanley and the other men enter the emergency area. He joined them in the waiting room and gave them an update on Johnny’s condition. He also informed his captain of the three stitches he had received in his own leg.

“I called in to HQ and had them stand down the Squad until a replacement could be brought in. I guess I’ll need to replace you and Johnny for the rest of the shift?” Hank asked.

“I can finish out the shift, but Johnny will definitely need a replacement. How bad was the damage to the squad?” Roy asked.

“It is going to be out of commission for several weeks. The whole back in was caved in. The driver’s side door is bent, and most of the compartment doors were jammed. They will probably have to junk the squad and get a new one. This poor little squad has seen one too many accidents, I think,” Captain Stanley said. “Tell you what, Roy, since you won’t be able to do any responses for the rest of the shift, why don’t you just stay here and I’ll have one of the guys bring your car by in the morning?”

“Okay, thanks, Cap. I’m going to call Joanne and let her know about Johnny. I’ll see you in the morning,” Roy said, tiredness catching up with him now that the rush of adrenaline was wearing off.

“You take care and keep us posted. Try and get some sleep,” Captain Stanley told him, gently squeezing his senior paramedics shoulder.

“Sure thing, Cap,” Roy replied. Roy rubbed his tired face. It was going to be a long night.

In the treatment room Dr. Brackett studied the x-ray once more before going to the now sedated paramedic. He gently probed the area where he thought the thorn would be. “Okay, let’s get this thing out.”

Dixie handed him a scalpel, and Dr. Brackett made a small incision in Johnny’s side. He carefully moved the skin away from the cut and peered into the open wound. “I can see it. It isn’t in very deep, just deep enough to cause a problem.” He carefully reached in with the hemostats and grasped the thorn. With a gentle tug, and a small amount of wiggling, he worked the thorn out of Johnny's side. A large amount of the infection ran down Johnny's side. Dixie took a bandage and cleaned the wound.

"There, no problem at all," Dr. Brackett said to those in the room. "Now maybe we can get this cleared up and Johnny back on his feet."

"Poor Johnny," Dixie said, "He just doesn't have the world's greatest luck when it comes to minor injuries. Anyone else, and it probably wouldn't have caused a bit of trouble."

"Injuries of any kind, don't you mean?" Dr. Brackett said.

The wound was cleaned and a bandage was placed over it to protect it from any abrasions that might be caused by his clothing.

"Let's get him to a room so he can get some proper rest. He should start to respond to the antibiotics, now," Brackett told Dixie and the others in the room. "I'll go talk to Roy. If you need me we'll be in the lounge."

Dixie nodded at him as she began to clear the area from the surgery. She gave the assisting nurse orders to get a room ready for Johnny. Once everyone was out of the room she stood next to her favorite paramedic and gently wiped his brow free of sweat.

"Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, what am I going to do with you?" she asked, not expecting an answer, but jumping in pleased surprise when he opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"If I follow you home, will you keep me?" he asked weakly.

"I don't know if I could afford you!" she laughed softly at him. "You sure keep us on our toes around here!"

"Gotta keep life interesting for you, or you will get bored!" he replied, still drowsy from the anesthesia.

"You just get some rest, baby doe eyes," she scolded him. "I'll be back in a minute with your partner. He hasn't left this room except when I made him."

"How is he? Was he hurt?" Johnny frowned as he tried to concentrate on what Dixie was saying.

"Just relax. I'll have him here in a minute and you can see for yourself," she told him.

Roy stood by his partner's bed. He watched as Johnny's breathing became more deep and rhythmic. His fever had started to fall shortly after the thorn had been removed and the infection cleaned out of the wound. Roy pulled a chair over and sat beside his friend's side. He reached out and took Johnny's hand in his, feeling the warmth returning and the grayness leaving his friend's face. " Junior, life sure isn't boring with you around. Ever since you came into our lives we have been trying to keep up with you and all that energy you seem to generate each time we see you. Where does it all come from? You have such innocence about you! Maybe that's why you make such a good target for the Phantom. You take people at face value. You never hold a grudge. You're always ready to lend a helping hand, comfort an injured child, or other victim. Yet, when it comes to yourself, you never ask for help, or sympathy. You won't let on how bad you hurt, or if your feelings have been wounded. You may sulk, or pout like a kid, but you bounce back so fast! You flutter from one subject to another like a butterfly. Why can't you settle for a while and relax, enjoy the view.

"What are you looking for? What has happened in your life to make you so selfless? What questions do you want answered? Where are you going, and how will you know when you get there?"

Roy let his head drop on the edge of the bed. Sleep took him down into a dreamless darkness where only soft velvet touched his mind. How long he slept, he did not know, but a hand on his shoulder gently shaking him brought him to just enough awareness to know he was being walked to someplace where he could stretch out and sleep more comfortably. Several hours later, Roy awakened. A nurse had come into the room to take Johnny's vitals and to check on Roy, too. She smiled at him when she saw he was awake. She motioned for him to go back to sleep and left the room.

Roy felt a feather light kiss on his forehead. He opened his eyes and met those of his wife, Joanne. She whispered in his ear, "Good morning, sleepy head. How are you feeling?"

"Hey," he answered her. "I'm feeling fine. Guess I was more tired than I thought. How'd you know I was here? I never got around to calling you."

"Hank called from the station. He said you might not call. He said you and Johnny were in an accident and that Johnny and you were hurt, but not seriously," she glanced at her husband's supine form. "I don't see any bandages on you, so he must have told me the truth!" Her eyes showed relief that the Captain had not played down any injuries to her husband. "How's Johnny? Hank didn't say much about his injuries, other than he had a thorn in his side. What did he mean by that?"

Roy chuckled, "Well, it can be taken several different ways, actually. He and a neighbor were cutting brush from around his place one day last week. His neighbor was hurt by some of the thorns in the brush and Johnny brought him in.

"Johnny had told Dr. Brackett he had been hit by a rock that had flown up from the ground during one of their bush removals and had a bruise on his side. Last night when we were hit, I guess Johnny was jarred enough that the 'bruise' let itself be known in a most unusual fashion."

"Oh?" Joanne said, " How's that?"

"He had a fever of 105, trouble breathing, and he couldn't sit up. At first Dr. Brackett thought he had some sort of virus, but when we got to discussing it, I remembered the bruise on his side and asked if it might be more than a bruise. The doc checked it out and found a thorn from a manzanita bush imbedded in his side just above the third rib."

"Oh, my! How awful! Poor Johnny! He'll recover now that the thorn is out?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"Yeah, but I bet he doesn't do any more brush cutting for a while."

"Wanna bet?" came a still groggy voice from the other bed in the room. "I still have to clear out from around the barn. Then we have to do Red's place. I promised I'd help him if he helped me."

"You are a glutton for punishment, aren't you, Junior! Isn't one thorn enough?" Roy asked.

"I'll just have to be more careful next time," Johnny replied. "Man, I'm starved, where's breakfast?" Suddenly Johnny remembered the accident from the previous night. "You hurt, Roy? I never even got to ask!"

"I got three stitches in my leg from where it was trapped under the dash, other than that, I wasn't hurt. How are you feeling this morning?" Roy asked his partner.

"Well, my side doesn't hurt any more. And I'm hungry!" Johnny complained.

"Doesn't that stomach of yours ever sleep?" Joanne asked, laughing at her husband's best friend. "I swear, Johnny Gage, you could eat a whole cow in one sitting and ask for more!"

"Hey, I didn't eat much yesterday! I'm a growing boy! I gotta eat!" Johnny turned his big brown eyes in Joanne's direction. "Would you see if we could get some food before I starve to death? Pleeeeeease!" he begged. Roy and Joanne laughed at Johnny's antics.

Dixie walked in on the laughter and smiled at all three of them. "Well, I see our star patient and his friend are finally awake. Is anyone hungry?"

"YES!" Johnny said before Roy could answer. "I'm starving!"

"I see you’re feeling better this morning. I wasn't sure if you would make it through the night. How do you do it?" Dixie asked.

"Do what?" Johnny asked, innocently. He looked at Roy, not certain what Dixie was talking about. "All I did was uhhhh.....Roy, what did I do?"

"I don't think it really matters, now. You are bouncing back so fast I'd swear you were never sick to begin with."

"I was sick?" Johnny asked, surprised. "I thought we were in an accident. How was I sick?"

"You remember that bruise on your side?" Roy asked.

Johnny nodded and felt the bandage that was there, "Yeah, what about it?"

Dixie took up the narrative. "That bruise wasn't caused by any rock. It was a thorn about this long," she measured out a size for Johnny to see, "Dr. Brackett had to take it out. It was infected and caused you to have a nasty fever."

"Oh. So that's why it kept hurting!" Johnny exclaimed, then gave Dixie and the others one of his lopsided grins. "Well, you can't blame me for this one!"

"Oh!" Dixie said, raising her eyebrows, "and why not?"

"I asked Dr. Brackett to take a look at it and he said it would be okay. For once I did right, and I still paid the price!" No one said a word. Johnny was right, after all.

Captain Stanley looked into the room. Johnny looked up and waved his captain in. "Hey, Cap! What's up?"

"Just stopping in to see how you are doing," Hank said.

"I'm fine now. Doc says I'll be going home later this afternoon. I'll be back on the job next shift!" "Great news! I was going to ask if I needed to call in a replacement for you," his captain said.

“Nah, it takes more than a thorn to keep me down for long, Cap,” Johnny said. "I can't believe I got sick just because of a thorn in my side!”

“Well, Johnny, at least you were able to get rid of your thorn. Seems I have five thorns I have to deal with every shift, two of which are quite painful sometimes!” Hank’s eyes twinkled with mischief and a grin spread across his face. “I’ll see you next shift, okay? Oh, and between now and then, no more cutting down or moving brush. Call in an expert if you need too, but I’m ordering you NOT to do it yourself!”

“Uh, sure, Cap,” Johnny said, uncertain how serious his captain really was. As his captain left the room, what he said earlier dawned on him. “I’m not a thorn in anybody’s side!”

The door swooshed closed. From the hallway came the sound of a deep laugh. Captain Stanley left the hospital in a better frame of mind knowing that his crew would be complete next shift.