Roxy's 2006 Book Review

Well I completed a list of the books I read over 2006. Really a little bit of everything. Some fabulous reads, some so-so and a couple real stinkers:

** Christ: Out of Egypt by Anne Rice (Fiction)
***** Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck (Classic)
* The Red Pony by John Steinbeck (Classic)
**** The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck (Classic)
** Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck (Classic)
**** The Shadow Divers by Robert Kurson (Non-Fiction)
*** The Pearl by John Steinbeck (Classic)
**** The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini (Fiction)
*** The Bookseller of Kabul by Asne Seierstad (Non-Fiction)
*** Swimming to Antarctica by Lynne Cox (Sports Memoir)
***** The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway (Classic)
***** Where Rivers Change Direction by Mark Spragg (Memoir)
**** Horseplay by Judy Reene Singer (Fiction)
** Oregon Trail Stories by (Compilation) (History)
*** Log from the Sea of Cortez by John Steinbeck (Classic)
**** The Kitchen Boy : A Novel of the Last Tsar
by Robert Alexander (Hist- Fiction)
**** Falling Angels by Tracy Chevalier (Fiction)
** Blindman’s Bluff: American Submarine Espionage
by Susan Sontag (Non-Fiction)
*** The Witch of Cologne by Tobesha Lerner (Fiction)
**** Marley and Me by John Grogan (Non-Fiction)
*** Roses for Mama by Janette Oke (Christian Fiction)
*** Tara Road by Maeve Binchy (Fiction)
** Barn Blind by Jane Smiley (Fiction)
***** My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult (Fiction)
***** Grand Opening by Jon Hassler (Fiction)
***** Staggerford by Jon Hassler (Fiction)
*** Nights of Ice by Spike Walker (Non-Fiction)
** Sam’s Letters to Jennifer by James Patterson (Fiction)
***** Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden (Fiction)
*** Cannery Row by John Steinbeck (Classic)
*** Sweet Thursday by John Steinbeck (Classic)
**** Tortilla Flats by John Steinbeck (Classic)
**** The Virgin’s Lover by Phillipa Gregory (Fiction)
*** To A God Unknown by John Steinbeck (Classic)
**** The Queen’s Fool by Phillipa Gregory (Fiction)

BEST BOOKS of 2006:
***** Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden (Fiction)
***** My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult (Fiction)
***** Where Rivers Change Direction by Mark Spragg (Memoir)

WORST BOOKS of 2006:
** Sam’s Letters to Jennifer by James Patterson (Fiction)
* The Red Pony by John Steinbeck (Classic)
** Barn Blind by Jane Smiley (Fiction)

BIGGEST SUPRISE of 2006: ***** My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult (Fiction)
BIGGEST LETDOWN of 2006: ** Christ: Out of Egypt by Anne Rice (Fiction)

Merry Christmas

Santa got busted under the tree.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Love Santa Paws and Rox

Dogs Have 9 Lives Too

Took the dog out tonight 3:30 am, our usual middle of the night trek outside. Let's face it, when you get to be as old as he is, (17 years old!) you have to get up at least once a night because thats one of the bummers about aging. I don't mind taking him, I can do it half asleep, on come the slippers and jeans, out the door we go. Round trip is usually only 3-4 minutes. We have this chore down pat. Gives me a chance to get a drink of water and make a trip of my own before he and I climb back into bed before the warm spot under the blankets loses its warmth.

So we are out tonight. I standing in the entry way, he out doing his duty. It's cold out, and there is not a soul around, no cars, no noise, nothing. I lean against the building as I wait, playing with the steam that my breath creates in the cold air, trying to see how long it will last before it fades away. As I wait for him it finally dawns on me that its taking longer than usual, so I step off the walkway and onto the lawn to get his attention and hurry him a long.

That's when I saw it. Crouched low and creeping closer is a fox. My dog is oblivious to this, he is about ten feet from me, and that fox is creeping up maybe fifteen feet from him in the opposite direction climbing the slope from a culvert. The fox was not alarmed by me at all, not even as I dodge for the dog and scoop up a healthy sized rock. When the rock impacted the fox's hip then and only then did he take off, darting off maybe 25 feet and turning back again. I stand 3 feet from my dog, and he looks up at me as he continues doing his job, completely ignorant of the danger near by. Incredulously the damn fox crouches and starts slinking my way again, low, not afraid of me in the least. This time the rock I grab and throw cracks him on the head, hard, right against the ear, and the fox yelps and takes off around the corner of the building.

The dog finishes up and I pick him up and carry him back inside. Once safely in the hall my dog runs upstairs and I walk out the front door in time to see the fox streaking by up the sidewalk in front of the building. Picking up one last rock, a bigger one, I hurl it in his direction. The rock strikes an empty dumpster and makes a wonderful booming sound which terrifies the hell out of the fox and he disappears for good. Satisfied I go back inside where my dog dances at the top of the stairwell happily waiting for his pokey owner.

Crawling back into bed I rub my dog's tummy as he goes back to sleep and I reflect on what just happened. I have not seen fox around here before. Deer and elk occasionally ramble thru the complex, some coyotes live maybe a half mile away over in the game preserve and we had a skunk around last spring, but other than that I don't normally see critters around. My dog sighs in that deep way that only old dogs do. "You were five seconds away from being dead you know..." I say to him. "Don't you EVER do that again!" Snoring is the only reply I hear as the dog returns to sleep. He feels secure that his Mom is his protector and will always keep him from harm. Little does he know how close I came to failing him in that aspect. Cat's are said to have nine lives, but after tonight I am willing to bet dogs do too.

Being a Grinch

We've this battle before. The gang wants to buy Christmas wreaths from the Boy Scouts, and for the last three years I have said no, absolutely NOT. Why? Well if they wanted to decorate the stations or something I would say fine, go for it, knock yourselves out. But what they want to do with them is mount them to the grills of our ambulances. And for that I draw the line. I can tick off several reasons, such as oh, say the engines drying them out and ultimately sucking them into the fans or whatever, but mainly for this reason: just what kind of message does this give the public? We are tearing up the highway Code Three, and a driver hears us coming. They look up into the rearview mirror and what do they see? An ambulance racing right at them with a festive looking wreath and fancy red and blue blinking lights. What does this convey to drivers when they see us coming? Hi! MERRY CHRISTMAS!, now GET THE HELL OUT OF OUR WAY! This is why I am the Grinch and say no to Christmas Wreaths.

You Will Not Hurt My People

These are my people. This is my watch. You will not hurt my people.

You never even slowed down today. You never even looked. You never saw the four people you almost killed today. Heaven only knows how this tragedy did not happen. Perhaps you should go back and re-read last week's news story. Oh you heard the one. The one from Denver, the family of four hit by a drunk as they stepped into the crosswalk. The father lived, the rest of his family did not. His wife, and the two children they were pushing in their stroller, ages two and four, both wearing their Halloween costumes just for fun. Dead. The news showed pictures of the mangled stroller, and a child's shoe laying in the gutter. Another picture on the front page of today's paper showed the little boy's casket, over it was draped his SuperMan cape. Perhaps you should study these pictures. Take a real good look. Think this couldn't happen to you? You are wrong!

There is no good reason for what you did today, none. This corner is a four-way stop, always has been. Today the crossing guard stood where the sidewalks converge. She had three kids with her. Did you see them? The hell you did! You came racing into that four-way doing at least 45. You raced right thru that school zone and that construction zone, all of which are a speed limit of 20. Your car was moving so goddamn fast it was just a white blur. When you hit that intersection you never even touched your fucking brakes. I know. I saw you. I watched.

Ten seconds before that corner was at a standstill. It was my turn to go thru but I waited for the crossing guard. She knows me. I catch her eye telling her I will wait for her and the kiddos to go on thru. Behind her one last kid is running up the sidewalk. She looks at him and nods at me to go ahead while she waits for the late kid. I pull out. Thats when you come sailing thru.

I was half way thru that intersection when I stopped, managing to see you at the last minute. Had I turned the corner your car would have bounced off me like a goddamn hockey puck. In that moment I felt my blood run cold. I prayed for that one second that the guard had not just held up her stop sign and begun her move. When I look back at her I see her, she is about a foot off the curb, the kids still behind her. I heard her scream. She saw you at the last second just as I did, and you flew right on by her, missing her by two feet. You never even saw her. You never saw those kids either.

I held my position right smack in the middle of that intersection, holding up traffic as I opened my door and looked back to make sure everyone was alright behind me. The guard is visibly shaken, and she has sheparded everyone back onto a lawn for the moment so she can regroup herself before trying again. She looks at me. I lift up my head, silently asking, she nods her head, silently replying. They are okay, she is okay, it will be alright. She needs a minute, hands are still shaking.

Your worst nightmare would have come true. Today was your lucky day. God only knows what prompted you to be such a jackass. You were too busy yapping into that fucking cell phone of yours to care. I ever catch you and that cell you will never see that phone again. There is not one damn reason on this Earth for what you did. Not one. I won't hear all this bullshit about being late for work, or your own kid is home hacking up hairballs or whatever. You don't risk everyone else's life. Nothing is worth that. Nothing. Even if your husband is home lying in the front yard with a broken leg, you don't run over four people just to get there to help him.

So think about this you fucking idiot. Pay attention. I never got your plate number, but I have no qualms about reporting your ass. Takes me three seconds to switch my radio to the Police frequency. I've done it before with others, I will do it again. Think I would not turn infront of you and use my vehicle as a shield if it meant protecting others? Think again. I would not think twice. You have an airbag. Those pedestrians do not. You were lucky this morning. The construction zone workers, and the guard and her kids were even luckier. Had that kid not been late, those people would have been dead.

Remember that next time, think long and hard about it. No excuse, no "I was distracted on the phone" makes up for any of this. I will have none of it. This is my community and I will not tolerate shitheads like you endangering people with your careless, reckless behavior. Period.

These are my people. This is my watch. You WILL NOT hurt my people!

Shiny Happy People

This just made me laugh and laugh...

Coming downstairs in my apartment building this morning I heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner turn on. It was coming from the first apartment where a newlywed couple and their black and white shepardy type dog live. Now earlier I had run bumped into her in the hallway as she left on her way to work, so I knew Hubby was home alone on a Saturday doing the housework.

A minute after the vacuum turned on I heard their dog start howling. Howling at the sound of the vacuum (not unlike the sound dogs make when I pull in with my siren on). A moment later though the sound of a second voice howling joined the first. It was quite obviously the Hubby's voice and he was mimicking the dog as he vacuumed. When the dog's pitch would rise, so would his, just as if he was teasing the poor creature. They howled away together as they worked.

I laughed picturing him and the pooch in there. It always amuses me when people forget that they are not necessarily alone and wind up doing the silliest of things. Picking noses when they think nobody is looking, monkeying around with medical equipment when nobody is around, scratching rear-ends or passing gas in the elevator not realizing the security camera is on and somewhere a guard is laughing. My favorite has to be the folks who like to sing in their cars. Some really get into it, and though you may not hear whatever they are singing (thank the heavens) it looks like you are watching someone singing a full blown opera in there. Chris and I sing quite frequently, pretty much anywhere at anytime, but he and I don't give performances like some of the people we see out in the traffic.

So hats off to Hubby and his dog, its always nice to see (and hear) people who are happy. He will never know I heard him, and that fact made me smile even more.

Radio Check

Please tell me that things like this happen to you all as well...


In the course of my work I happen to carry with me a handheld radio that is linked to our EMS /FIRE dispatcher. These are carried by all medics and a large bit of the fire force as well.

Last Friday I was using my radio discussing something with Dispatch when my autumn allergies kicked in. Wiggling my nose and looking up at the lights did not help, so I paused and waited a minute for it to pass. Unfortunately when the moment came, my reflexes kicked in and rather than let loose of the button, I wound up keying the mike instead. It happened that fast!

Afterward I sat there mortified with that same feeling you have after you have slipped and fallen on the ice. You know the one. Even though you are laying there flat on your back freezing your now-briused rump off, the first thing you think to do is look around and hope that nobody saw you do that double axel swan dive into the snowbank. That was the exact feeling I had right then.

I froze for a moment hoping nobody would notice. It brought to mind that scene in You've Got Mail where Meg Ryan sneezes into her door intercom and the sound echos out into the street. My situation was worse, my sneeze just echoed around the city. Finally Steve-O's voice came on.

"Dispatch, either Rox has a cold or my radio just sneezed at me. Can I get a radio check please?"

How Riots Happen

Just as I opened the door of my office the other day, I see the back end of a loaded stretcher float on by the doorway. This was a little surprising for several reasons, none of which were good. Stretchers are nothing new to me, I work in , on and around them all day long and could probably load and unload them out of the rig with my eyes closed. So seeing this one wasn't what surprised me, it was what was on it and where it was headed that did.

......"Hey hold up," I call out to the guy pulling the stretcher, hoping to catch him before he gets into some serious trouble.

The young man pulling the stretcher slowed his step as he looked back over his shoulder at me, but he did not stop. He looked crabby, annoyed at me for interrupting his journey.

......"Stop!" I say, this time in a more direct tone that tells him I am not kidding around.
......"Why? I'm just going out to the loading dock," he said finally coming to a halt.
......"You are just a bit off course. Go around that corner and you are gonna have a riot on your hands."
......"Why?" he asked with a surly tone in his voice.
......"Well, that's the waiting room for the Surgery Center."

The reason I had stopped this man was because of the patient he was carrying on his stretcher. The guy was from a mortuary, and the patient he was transporting was actually deceased. A dead body. Had he turned into the surgery lobby where all those patient families were sitting and waiting, well, it would not have been good. Can you imagine? You are sitting, waiting, worried about a loved one being operated on, and some bozo comes traipsing into the lobby toting a dead body behind him. Now what's your first thought going to be? That's how riots happen....

Room 319

From the corner of my eye I saw her sitting there alone in the third floor lobby. It was just past four in the morning and I was running from one end of the hospital to the other, but her solitary figure left a stark image in my mind. I knew who she was, and I knew why she was here.

An hour earlier I had encountered her in the hallway, coming into a normally restricted area at this time of night. She had her coat on yet, carrying her purse as she made her way down the corridor, a woman on a mission. You see, she had just gotten that middle of the night phone call that all of us dread, and pray we never recieve. "Hi this is LaDeeDah at the Hospital. I'm sorry to wake you, but your loved one has taken a turn during the night. You need to come, now..."

I did not need to see which room she was headed to, I knew that already too. Room 319. Over the course of the evening nurses had been running into and out of that room more and more frequently. Sometimes in twos and threes, which is never a good sign. Eventually Dr N, a Neuro doc was paged and appeared looking a bit rumpled from sleeping in his shirt and tie somewhere off in the doctor's lounge. The moment I saw him and he said hello to me in passing, I knew what had happened in Room 319. The patient had stroked out.

As I returned from my destination I noticed that she was still there. Still alone, looking so lost. Though I did not know her, had never dealt with her husband or even entered Room 319, I walked across the empty lobby to where she sat, holding a cell phone open in her lap, unable to dial any numbers. The phone was lit up ready and waiting or her attention, a picture filled the screen. Maybe that was part of why she is unable to move.

I pick up a tissue box from the counter and she looks up at me as I come and sit down directly in front of her on a magazine filled coffee table. Had it been during the day time, some elderly volunteer would have come and smacked me for sitting on that table, but right here right now, I really didn't give a damn about that and neither did this lady. She looks relieved that someone, anyone stopped here for a moment, perhaps it was a distraction that helped her regroup. You never can tell.

"He had a stroke you know," the lady told me without any prompting, just as if I knew her and her husband well. "We came in earlier tonight, he just wasn't feeling well. Couldn't put his finger on what it was just something was wrong." I just nod my head quietly and watch. "They called me at three, said he wasn't going to make it 'til morning... He went that fast," she stated still studying her phone as if she is confused by it and has no idea how it works anymore. "I called our son, earlier, he said he would come but I know he won't. They weren't close."

"What can I do for you?" I ask very simply.

"I thought about calling our minister, but I don't know. It's the middle of the night... He's already gone, there isn't anything they can do for him now..." she murmurs. "There's no use calling now..."

"Perhaps you could call your minister anyway. I know that if I didn't call mine, he would be very upset thinking that he was not there for me in my time of need. Your husband may be gone, but you are still very much here." The lady looks at me, tears are pooling again. She nods her head in agreement. "We have a chaplain here that I could call. He happens to be a good friend of mine. Would you like me to give him a call? He is close by."

The lady nods, and I unclip my cell and give Matt a call. Matt is an ace of a chaplain, reminds me a bit of Burl Ives, and has the same smooth, quiet mannerisms of an Amish man. I rouse him from sleep somewhere around the hospital, and as I speak to him my own radio goes off. I have a run...

"Matt will be here in just a couple minutes," I say standing up. "I'm sorry but I have got to go now..." the lady squeezes my hand. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"I know," she replies, " thank you."

Quickly I depart turning to sprint up the corridor toward the ED. Ron has the rig out, and radio's that he is pulling up to the main entrance and he meets me there. Climbing in and slamming the door I buckle in as we head out into the night. Part of me feels bad, having to leave the lady as I had. I also find it ironic how I wound up leaving behind the dead to race out after the living.

Later on that morning before I get off shift, I find myself again up in the third floor hallway. The lady is long gone. I never did find out her name, or his for that matter. When I pass by Room 319 I glance inside. The lights are on, but nobody is there. The body is gone now and the bed sits vacant, no bedding on it, just the blue mattress waiting to be remade for the next patient. Thats how it goes in a hospital, life goes on.

Super Hero Band-aids

That wonderful time of year has rolled around again. Flu season is here. Our hospital finally recieved its shipment of vaccine so Chris and I stopped in for our annual shots at one of the little clinics they were holding for employees.

Chris and I wait in line and when we reach the front Nurse Bonnie sees Chris and immediately offers him a chair while she collects his questionaire. Now it must be said that my partner is a big bruiser of a guy, but he is a charmer, no doubt about it and today he chats with the three nurses doing the clinic, sharing some funny story and making them all smile and laugh. Chris is not a flirt or a phoney by any means, this is his natural self.

I watch on as Bonnie fills the syringe and chats away with Chris. She asks him which arm he wants his shot in, rolls up that sleeve, teases him as she swabs the injection site with an alcohol wipe and sticks him. Then she asks him which SuperHero band-aid he would like and lets him pick. They laugh and carry on as Chris sits and waits for me.

Once we finish up Chris and I head out on our way again. Once on the road I scowl up at Chris as I drive and he laughs.

...."What?" he asks.
...."I hope Bonnie gets stuck with 20 screaming first graders today!"
...."Why?" Chris laughs at my suggestion. It's not just a suggestion, its a heartfelt wish from me.
...."Did she treat me the same way she treated you? NO! Did they offer me a nice chair to sit in? No. I had to stand there and wait. What if I had been a weenie and passed out at the sight of a needle?"
...."You work with blood and needles for a living, they know that."
...."Thats not the point! When she asked which arm did she hear me? Heck no! She just grabbed any old arm, shoved my sleeve up, one swipe of alcohol and then she fricking HARPOONED ME! Did you see her? She had that syringe clenched in her fist like it was some kind of weapon!"
....."You are imagining things," Chris said, laughing even harder now.
....."I am NOT! They were so sweet, giggling, offering you a Super Hero band-aid and what not. What did I get?" I hefted up my sleeve to reveal a cottonball held in place by a flimsy piece of atheltic tape. Ripping it off I hold up the cotton ball where a pinkie nail sized dab of blood has formed. "She probably nicked an artery! Will you look? I bet the needle is still in there! I'm probably gonna die!"

Chris laughs, rolls up his sleeve and flexes his muscles, showing off the snazzy SuperHero band-aid he got and I didn't. He flexes and kisses the band-aid for effect. It's while he is doing this I see something sticking out of his shirt pocket.
....."And they gave you a SUCKER TOO ?!?"
....."What can I say? I'm just more special than you!" He holds up his hand, studies his fingers for a moment, then blows on his fingertips and wipes them on his shirt, as if he is all that or something.
....."YOU are a PUNK and I take it back, I hope Bonnie gets 50 screaming kids in there today!!"

Why I Hate Birds - Part One

This actually happened recently when a friend and I went out to play a round of golf on one of the local courses. Part of living in Colorado is learning to live with an abundance of wild life and golfing around here can be a real adventure. Elk are a real nuisance and can actually be dangerous, but my friend "Jill" and I found a new menace. Canadian geese. There were tons of them everywhere, especially on the three water holes. Carrying a club with you for self defense as you walked the course is not a bad idea.

On the very last hole "Jill" teed up her ball and took her shot. Just as the ball lifted off it struck a goose who just happened to be wandering up to the tee box at that moment. Jill had nailed that ball hard and it pegged mister goose right smack in the neck. The sound the goose made as it went down would be the equivalent of someone running over a set of bagpipes, it was so loud and awful it sounded like it had come directly out of a Groucho Marx film. As we watched the bird collapsed in a pile of feathers. He either had the wind knocked out of him or Jill had just committed murder.

Jill looked at me aghast, while I doubled over laughing. This all looked just like one of those funny sports clips on the nightly news. While I thought it was hilarious, Jill was absolutely horrified.

....."Oh my God, I think I killed it!" she said, to which I had no immediate reply as I was still gasping for air from laughing so hard. "This isn't funny dammit! What do we do?!"
....."Do you want a Mulligan for that?" I finally offer.
....."You're a paramedic, go save it or something!" she says and when I look at her I see she is dead serious. Jill has tears in her eyes she is so upset, so I try to control my mirth. It's hard.
....."I work on people not birds! I am NOT a veterinarian!"
....."Well we have to do something!" Jill says and walks off to inspect our fine feathered friend. I watch as she approaches it, and gingerly takes her driver and gives the bird a poke to see if it is alive. Oh boy is it! Jill screams and runs when the goose comes to and spreads out its wings. This is getting funnier by the minute and I am laughing so hard it actually physically hurts!

We watch the goose as he flaps and flops, apparently unable to walk yet for as hard as he had his bell rung. Reminds me of some of the drunks we see. Finally he falls over into the pond. Not sure if thats a good or bad thing.When we peak over the edge we see several geese swimming around.
....."What do we do now?" Jill asks.
....."Guess he either sank or swam." I offer and start giggling again. "It was a goose-icide!"

So we continued on with our game and Jill takes a Mulligan as we can't find her golf ball. When I suggest to her where I think the ball wound up she threatens me with one of her clubs. I can't resist! When we walk back up to the clubhouse we come up on another pack of geese. The birds squawk and hiss angrily. To me it looks like they are sticking their tongues out at us.
....."Oh look," I laugh. "They heard about what you did!"

When Jill told the clubhouse people they laughed too and reassured her that this is something that happened from time to time and not to worry about it, and that he would probably be just fine. I bet they say that to everyone...

What Makes a Real Man

I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He and his son were sitting kitty-corner from our table at Applebee’s; coloring furiously in a coloringbook the waitress had provided for them while they waited for their food. The little towheaded boy giggles occasionally as they discuss whatever it is they are working on, he’s grinning from ear to ear and looks absolutely thrilled to death to be eating out with Daddy, his laugh can’t help but make you smile just from the sheer joyful sound in it. Big, bright, exuberant.

When Daddy passed by our table on the way in he sent my friends and I into a twitter. Handsome specimen of a man, and BUILT. Weightlifting is not just a means of exercise with this guy, he is a serious devotee and more than likely a professional at it. Wearing shorts, and a tight T-shirt you could not help but notice his tan legs and adonis-like chest. I’m sure that’s the way he wanted it too. Notice me, notice what a man I am.

We laughed and took bets on whether Adonis was married or not, keeping an eye out for his ring finger, and it’s lack of jewelry or not. I had my doubts. To me Adonis seemed a little bit too interested, too attentive and the little boy seemed too eager to please. Something wasn’t right with this picture, I could not place what it was yet, but I know these things.

My hunch was right and it played itself out while my friends were off to the ladies room. The boy had been playing around with a crayon, pretending it was a cigarette, firing questions at his father non-stop just as kids his age will. When you are three you have a million questions to ask, that’s a given. When Adonis’s eyes finally glazed over and drifted off to watch a nearby tv, the boy would lean over and shake his dad’s wrist and say "Excuse me Daddy,"... just to get his attention again.

I could not hear what Daddy Adonis was saying, but I watched the boy’s face go from grinning ear to ear, to absolute anguish. He starts crying hysterically and repeating over and over again, "I am sorry Daddy! Will you forgive me? Please Daddy..." The boy keeps repeating the line, just like that over and over again. Something in the way he says it sends a shiver up my spine and wrenches my heart. "I won’t be bad anymore Daddy, please forgive me?" he pleads.

Adonis is having none of this. He is sitting in his chair, watching the television across the way over at the bar as the boy continues to cry. The people around them who had smiled at the pair earlier thinking them cute were studiously ignoring them now. This three year old boy is now frantically crying, his face positively petrified with fear. He climbs down from his chair and goes to the other side of the table, reaching for Dad. Arms out he is just inches from Adonis and stops dead in his tracks. Adonis must be saying something terse to the boy, as the boy backs up, climbs back on his chair still in tears.

What the hell kind of father is that? What the hell kind of person would NOT reach for a small child, a CHILD? What the hell kind of father would sit and passively listen to his own child BEGGING for FORGIVENESS? The boy had not done anything bad enough to be this upset. He’s not been throwing plates of food, running around chasing waitresses, or being obnoxious and harassing other diners. No, all he had been doing was asking questions and sucking on the end of a crayon, just wanting to spend time with and get some attention from his father.

A commercial comes on the tv and Adonis reluctantly turns his attention back to the table and the boy. He is sitting bolt upright, you can tell by his posture he is irritated at the boy for having made a scene in public. I can’t really hear what Adonis is saying to the boy but I do hear the words Stop Bawling! The boy’s eyes still spurt tears, his mouth is opening and closing like a goldfish as he gasps still from the weight of his sobbing, but he says not a word more.

The waitress returns to their table and asks if Adonis and the boy would like dessert. She produces a little dessert menu which Adonis takes and hands to the kid, asking him if he wants dessert. Adonis’s reprieve. Instead of loving his boy, instead of being a daddy to this kid, he can now bribe the boy by giving him dessert. Feed the boy a treat and he will forget all about what an asshole his father is. Five minutes from now all will be forgotten, the boy will have his dessert and be back to thinking Adonis is a God again.

Whether Adonis knows it or not the damage has already been done. Sure the boy will have his treat and forget, but already the pattern has been set. Just from how the boy reacted, how he begged and pleaded for forgiveness, for the return of his father’s love and attention, I can see clearly into their troubled lives. I know now why there is no wedding ring on Adonis’s finger. I also know that no child begs and pleads for forgiveness like that, it’s probably something he has heard and seen repeated over and over again in his own home. Just the way he said it told me that. I can envision his mother, or some other family member saying the same damn thing, teaching him without even knowing it.

My friends return to the table and they quibble over which one of them will marry Adonis out in the parking lot and be swept off their feet in a Cinderella style love story. It’s just good natured girl talk, but it no longer amuses me. When Adonis gets up to leave, the boy traipsing along happily at his heels, I give him THAT look, the black one I know conveys everything I am thinking. Adonis lifts an eyebrow at me as they pass by. He knows just how clearly I can see right thru him and maybe, for just a fleeting moment, he will feel ashamed of himself. That’s all I can hope for.
....."Well?..." my friends ask after Adonis and his son head out the door.
....."You guys can have him, I’d much rather have a REAL man."

Firehouse "Surprises"

The smell of whatever the boys are grilling comes wafting up the hallway, thru the Firehouse and into the office where I am working at my computer and Ron is laying on a couch, feet kicked up on the armrest working on a crossword puzzle. It's barely past ten in the morning and already the grill has been fired up for the day and whatever is cooking makes my stomach rumble. Grilling around here is an art. From the way the guys sit around and squabble about rubs, sauces and marinades you would think they were the next Emeril.

....."Who's cooking?" I ask Ron who is my shift partner today.
....."Chief said something about a Surprise that would knock our socks off."

I wince and return to my work. Eating anything cooked around the firehouse that has the word "Surprise" in it is just plain dangerous and is usually indicative of something spicy enough to melt fork, knife and plate. Over time I have survived numerous spicy ribs, hot wing, and chili encounters and am damn lucky to still have my taste buds intact.

The tones sound and lights come on and Ron and I take off on a run. When we return the Fire gang is sitting around the table. Chief is in the kitchen with whatever he concocted out on the grill promising us that we are in for a treat. Ron and I find chairs settle in. I lean over and ask Gabe what the "surprise" is. Turns out to be grilled habanero peppers fresh from Chief's garden.

Chief samples his treat in the kitchen and after some swearing, he brings in a plate with his roasted habaneros and passes it around the table. When the plate reaches me I can feel eyes upon me watching and wondering what I will do. Today I am the only lady in the station in amongst eleven men, men who mind their manners and their mouths when I am around as a term of respect, an honor. They welcome me into their midst without testing me, or harassing me like they do most of the other women, yet I know they are wondering what "she" will do now. Will "she" have the brass to try one?

I take a small pepper from the plate and pass it on down the line. Their is a great deal of chatter going on as I pick up my knife and fork and dissect my adversary. Somebody inquires if it's safe for me to have one after what happened last spring with my gastric ulcers. I realize that it's my "out" if I want it, I have a good excuse and nobody would blame me.

Watching the others around me the reactions to their peppers varies. Some are not phased at all, others have watering eyes and are gasping and swearing. I gain my courage it's now or never, in for a penny in for a pound.

I pick up the pepper with my fork and go. They are watching as I eat it, waiting to see if I will spontaneously combust. Ron is grinning like a Cheshire cat. I chew on it for a moment before swallowing it. That's when the sucker ignited. From the back of my tongue on down-my throat boiled and lost all sensation of feeling. Burning does not begin to cover this. I keep smiling though, and am careful not to show any weakness. None of the swearing, gagging or face making like the others are.

....."Well?" Chief asks me.
....."Pretty damn good. Weren't they suppose to be strong or something though?"

The guys laugh and Ron gives me a wink. It isn't very long before he and I take off on another run. As we pull out is when he finally asks.

....."Fess up. Between you and me. That pepper got you good didn't it?"
....."Let's put it this way: if I had not had my tonsils out a year ago, that thing would have done the job for me. Taste buds will grow back won't they?"

Ready to Roll

---Working one morning we had some down time so I decided to play around with my camera. I am glad that the rig looks so clean, considering we had been out along some very dusty gravel roads earlier. Notice that Chris is not in this shot, he informed me that if I attempted to take a picture of him, he would stick my camera somewhere...

---It always makes me smile when I pull into the stations and see the garage doors open and the rigs sitting like this. Serves as a reminder of how quickly things can change. Quiet and all is well one moment, to all hell breaking loose the next. Regardless, we are always Ready to Roll...

Bathroom Peace

"Harriet" is 50, professes her own brand of "Christianity," has her own opinions about how the world should run, and at this moment is parked in a chair in my office waiting for my return. I find her in here once every two or three months with some new complaint or gripe, and I wonder what today's will be.

-----"I am outraged!" she states. "Just outraged! This is unacceptable!"
-----"What's unacceptable?" I ask pretending interest.
-----"The bathroom situation!" she says shocked.
-----" I already called on it, maintenance will be here some time today."
-----"Not that. I mean that MAN!"
-----"Who?"
-----"The man you hired. We can't have a man using our bathroom!"
-----"Harriet, it's a unisex bathroom. Anyone can use it."
-----"Well its not acceptable! We can't have a man using it!"
-----"Why not?"
-----"He's a MAN! They make messes! You KNOW what I MEAN!"
-----"I didn't ask, but I am pretty sure Chad is housebroken. Want me to ask?"
-----"We can't have a man in OUR bathroom!"
-----"You are married and have a grown son. You've shared bathrooms before Harriet, it's not a new concept."
-----"Well that's different! Why can't you tell him he has to use the patient men's room down the hall?"
-----"If you have a personal problem with it, why don't YOU go use the patient bathrooms?"
-----"That's ridiculous!"
-----"No more ridiculous than what you just asked. Chad has as much right to that bathroom as you do, and I doubt the issue of him sharing a bathroom with a bunch of WOMEN ever even crossed HIS mind. "

With that Harriet stuck her nose straight up in the air and left my office. That this conversation ever took place amazes me. There are five offices in our area of the office building, and we have always shared one bathroom. People worry about world peace, well hell, we can't even keep bathroom peace around here.

Fourth of July Memory

The E5 Station invited me up to their station for fireworks and a cookout, but I declined as they were also to be the gang in charge of the city firework display. I am not a big fan of fireworks, crowds, or lots of loud noise. Call me silly but this may be why:

Years ago I was working the Fourth up in a town in Minnesota (a town who shall remain nameless for obvious reasons.) We were stationed further down the beach for the afternoon while the city's holiday festivities commenced, and when the fireworks display began we were up at the station. Just as the grand finale was to be shot off, one of the cannon things that they used back than fell sideways and shot off it's firework right toward the crowd. The firework actually was maybe fifteen feet off the ground as it zinged over their heads and skimmed out into the lake. The screaming was horrendous and we responded immediately. Luckily nobody was hurt, just scared. A couple of panic attacks, hysterics, some fainters and a lot of red-hot angry people. The city really had lucked out. From that time forward, that city's firework display has been shot from a small island out in the middle of the lake. No use tempting trouble twice.

Sights, Sounds, and Smells

Sights, Sounds, and Smells: A Lighter Look at Life Around the StationHouses


I discovered that white liquid paper will cover over washed-in blood stains on my good White Dress Shirts quite nicely. Ironically wearing of the said White Dress shirts instantly means you will be dealing with a pumper or a projectile vomitter that day. It's a given.

A call came over the EMS/FIRE radio of a citizen reporting a lightning strike with visualizaion of smoke. Problem was that the citizen was reporting this incident from 22 miles away. Talk about your far sighted people...

We responded to a water rescue and afterward came back to the station to get dried back out between calls. Mason took off his boots, socks and slacks, tossed them in the dryer and roamed around the stationhouse in his boxers until the tones sounded and the lights came on. Running into the garage he climbed into a pair of Fire turnout trousers, big rubber boots, and took off-minus his pants, socks and shoes. And here the public thinks we wear clothes when we respond...

Chris and I were involved in an accident this week. He and I were at Sam's Club getting supplies when a little kid who stood no taller than the shopping cart he was trying to push ran smack into Chris who then wound up running over me due to the force of the jolt. You know how big those carts are too! I have a nice black and blue ankle, but no other injuries.

When someone gets sick we don't refer to it as vomit, puke or barf, we just call it "ick," as in "hey it's your turn to clean the ick outta the rig," or "Ha-ha Chris, you've got ick on your brand new boots!" The lovely aroma that accompanies ick is referred to as "funk."

Ron, Matt and I were going Code Three with Ron and I in the cabin and Matt driving. Matt cut a corner a little too sharp and I watched as Ron lost his feet. He had two choices as he went down, he could either wipe out our expensive portable crash cart, or wipe me out. The choice was obvious and I wound up getting flattened by a 180# paramedic. As we untangled ourselves he looked up and smiled at me. "I gotta work on my surfing technique huh?" he said to which I laughed.

EMS responded to a 911 call at a residence the other day. Nobody was answering the door when they rang the bell, so they went around back and could visually see thru a kitchen window the patient in-question passed out on the floor. With no Police around for help the boys decided to try entry thru a large doggy door located in the kitchen door. They called and whistled, and when no pets presented themselves Mason crawled in. Half way in Mason was greeted by the homeowner's German Shepard. The patient will be just fine, Mason though, recieved eight stitches for his efforts. Way to go Mase!

Listening to EMS/FIRE dispatch the other day the dispatcher was giving play-by-play of a small grassfire started by some kids on the south side of town. Normally that is not very interesting, but this time observers pointed out to the firemen the kids who had lit the fire and had come back to watch their own handywork. Since the PD had yet to arrive the FIRE Boys took duty into their own hands and a foot pursuit began. The dispatcher was calling out the streets as the chase continued, but finally it ended with the note "Suspects last seen headed..." Hmm, lets see, kids in Nikes, or men in turnouts and rubberboots. Who do you think is gonna win?

The guys at 18 Station have a "thing" for Kyra Sedgwick. Recently they had her show on all day for some kinda marathon thingee. Not sure what the attraction with her is. Fed up I finally absconded with the remote, tuned in something I wanted, and then sat on top of the remote so they wouldn't try to get it back. This trick only works with this station though, the gang around here aren't sure whether it's safe to kill me or not. If I sit on the remote at the other stations, Chris, Todd, Steve and the Mikeys have no problem with mashing me into the cushions and reclaiming "their" remote back. So I was surpised when the guys didn't grumble or put up a fuss when I tuned in Sex and the City. In fact D asked me if I would turn it up a bit. Their secret is safe with me, but they better hope that this doesn't get out because I am pretty sure that's a "Guy Card" violation of some sort.

A Tale of Three Kiddies

He told me his name was "Jacob" and when I asked him how old he was he held up four fingers for me. I took him at his word. He was lying on the kitchen floor with a right tib-fib fracture; his leg canted at a very unnatural angle. When we first came in he had been crying, but once I started to work with him, the tears ceased and he became calmer; which was pretty amazing considering how badly this little guy must be hurting. Shock can do that to you.

The dynamics of working with kids fascinates me, while it is for that very reason that many others DON'T like dealing with them, which was what had brought me to this home today. Kids can be tough and they can rip your heart out. Personally I feel the reactions that children have is a far narrower spectrum than that of adults because their reactions are real. With kids you don't really see the dramatics and theatrics, or the psychotic and neurotic tendencies that seem to manifest themselves in many grownups. Take for example Jacob's mother whom Ron is attending to in the livingroom. She is busy hyperventilating and having a general meltdown while her child is lying here with me, in severe pain, yet behaving more like an adult than she is. How parents can get so wound up thinking about themselves rather than their own injured children during times like these is one mystery I will never figure out.

While going thru the motions I talk conversationally with Jacob, asking him how this happened. He tells me that he and Roscoe were playing Superman. When I ask him who Roscoe is he points past my shoulder to a young Black Lab standing outside on the deck, nose pressed to the glass patio doors hoping to be let back in so that he and the boy may resume playing. Hate to tell you Roscoe-old buddy, old pal, but that won't be happening any time in the near future...Jacob goes on to explain how he jumped from a kitchen chair onto Roscoe's back, and how Roscoe took off running, careening them off of a kitchen cabinet, breaking Jacob's leg when they crashed. I nod my head and agree with him that it was just an accident, while secretly wondering to myself just how many people over the course of time have been injured-all in the name of playing Superman.

Despite it all, Jacob proved to be every bit as tough as his favorite super hero. I was absolutely impressed with this kid. He weathered thru everything we needed to do for him as well as being transported to a hospital in another city. I'm sure the pain meds we gave him helped a bit with that too. All in all he took things very well, better than most adult people would and definitely better than his hysterical mother had. Matt and Ron were even surprised. The had radioed for me the minute they'd been dispatched to the Peds-Charlie call, knowing that kids and I just seem to click. Had they known what a trooper this little guy would be they never would've called. Kids are amazing and they really can surprise you at times.
------
On Father's Day me and a couple of friends went out for a round of golf. The course was full of kids treating Dads to this one day out of their summer vacation, while their Dads endured this annual tradition trying not to cringe when the kid's divots flew further than their balls did. There were tons of these types of families out, but only one little family caught my eye.

While we waited around for our tee time I noticed a father and son over on the practice putting green warming up. The boy was maybe six years old, and he was concentrating with all his might. Occasionally Dad would come over to help the boy adjust his swing or get a better grip on the club. Dad would stand behind the boy and reach over and around the child, gently wrapping his big hands over his son's small ones as he demonstrated something. The sight of them together like that made me smile it was so tender. Standing together they almost looked like one person.

Once we teed off and started on our way I looked back to see same little boy and his dad coming up the path to wait for their turn to start. Just them, nobody else. The boy looked like an exact miniature of his father, same walk and everything. He even had his own little kiddie golfbag complete with a set of kiddie sized golf clubs. You could tell that this was not just a once a year outing for them, they were serious about their game unlike many of the others who were out terrorizing the course today.

So for the rest of the afternoon I would glance back every so often to the father and his son as they played, keeping up right behind us. Sometimes I would see them standing in a tee box waiting and talking, other times they would be marching together up the fairway as they played along. Maybe the boy is another Tiger Woods in the making, you never know; regardless though, even from a distance you can see how happy the boy and his daddy are sharing a day out together and having a good time. The son seems to see his father as a hero and wants to be just like him. Hats off to this Dad, wish there were a lot more around just like him, men who take an interest in their kids, love them, and help keep them on the right track.
-------
Monday afternoon I had a close call. I was driving and Ron was with me out to a call. It was not a Code 3 lights and sirens kind of call, but we were moving right along. Coming thru a green light at an intersection I see two boys hanging around on the corner, backs to the traffic just messing around, tussling a little bit as they wait for the walk signal. The light holds for us and I keep coming when suddenly one of the boys grabs the others ball cap and turns running straight out into the street without so much as a glance at the traffic.

My reaction was instantaneous.I hit the brakes and automatically slammed my arm out to the side and across Ron's chest as if to hold him back as my tires lock up on the asphalt and the rig heaves to a halt just as moments later the second boy does the exact same thing the first had done, never even bothering to look for cars. For that one moment in time the only thing that mattered to that boy was getting even with the other kid and getting his hat back, nobody else, nothing else existed.

I got stopped with about two feet to spare. When the boy heard my tires he looked up at me as he darts past the front of the grill, and from his eyes I could see pure hate, loathing and anger, not the fear like you would expect. The look he gave me said HOW DARE YOU? How dare you interrupt my screwing around? How dare you come so close to me, what the hell were you thinking? For this kid there is no realization, absolutely none that had I not reacted when I did, assuming he would do the same boneheaded thing as the first kid, he could have wound up being killed. Death is just something that teenagers never consider as something that could ever happen to them.

Luckily for the boys the cars in the turn lane had been waiting for me to pass thru the intersection, and there were no cars coming in the far outside lane. The boys took off again without giving any of this any thought. The three drivers in the turn lane all looked at me with looks on their faces that were just as surprised as I'm sure the ones on mine and Ron's were. With no time to lose I refocused and got us moving again, putting what had just happened out of my mind.

Kids are kids, I understand that, but kids with decent upbringing don't give people looks like the one that kid just gave me. I think back to sweet little Jacob, and to mini Tiger Woods, and I pray to God that they never grow up and turn into anger filled boys like the one I just saw. It's really too bad, those little boys could teach the older ones a whole helluva lot about life.

Junk TV

I watched a program on tv tonight called Saved. Some new program on TNT that was suppose to be about the life of paramedics. We were all interested in seeing it, hoping that it would be an accurate depiction of what we really go thru out there. The guys and I must have seen the commercial a million times last weekend, and we were interested. Sure we knowingly watch the medical shows on tv just to laugh and pick on the inaccuracies, but we had hopes none the less.

So I watched it at home tonight and was absolutely mortified at the program. They have some dumb medical school drop out, who gambles, does drugs and has sex in the ambulance. He and his partner just roam about in this ambulance that is as near as I can figure from the late seventies maybe early eighties. The scenes that they shot about incidents were so casual it nearly made me sick. These idiots just walk around, ho-hum no matter what they come up on. Kid dying in the park? Lets stand and look down at the screaming mother and then walk down the hill. The cardiac case they go to they show these idiots walking back, pulling out a med kit, pulling out a stretcher, talking and then going on up to see the patient. In real life the patient probably would have died just in the time they wasted from curb to door. When they reach the patient, the idiot just stands in the doorway and looks at him for a minute before dropping his kit on the floor and telling the patient that he would not be dying today. How pathetic.

I am proud of EMS and the services we provide. I am proud of the professionalism, the expertise and the manner in which we work around here. We do everything on the run, or at the very least a brisk walk depending on the case. We drive fast yes, but we do not go the 60-80 thru town that they showed these clowns doing, and they never figured in that wonderful traffic factor either. We are in full dress uniforms until five, at that point we can dress down a bit, but never do we run around in some gross t-shirt with a haphazard jacket that says Paramedic on the back, slouchy pants and sneakers. Might work on tv, but not in real life. Hell, if they only knew what our uniforms go thru in the course of a day's time...

The bit about them coming in and all the folks had was a ping pong table to sit around in a dumpy garage. That was their home station. Our EMS stations and Fire/EMS stations are homes away from home. When working 24 hr shifts people live their literally. Bedrooms, kitchens, washers, dryers, livingroom with 650 channel satelite on a big screen tv, patio, grills, basketball hoops hung on the garages over the driveways. Stations are not swanky, but they are comfortable.

As for the ambulances on the show, they were so old and outdated it was scary. Late 70s or early 80s. Cabs seperate from the compartments, huge cabinets that stored nothing in the way of equipment. Our rigs are huge, my good one has a cab that looks like something from NASA for all of the panels and controls and radios in it. The cab opens into the back, so that there is communication back and forth, and you can get from the front to the back in a hurry if you have to. I can stand up in ours, and I am six feet tall. The other day I counted three cops, two medics, and three patients in the back of our rig as we sorted out a situation. The things they were using as ambulances on that show were pathetic.

So I am seeing red tonight. Saddened by just how low tv will stoop to attract viewers. Had they depicted EMS as it really is, they would attract ten times more audience than they ever will with what they showed tonight. That show was a disgrace to all of us who work in the EMS field.

Take Care of Yourself Kiddo

....."Now you are going to feel a little stick here and it may sting a bit..." I say to the patient we have onboard. Right now I am trying to start an IV for her while Chris is driving.
......"That's okay Kiddo, you do what you have to do," she states. The way she pronounces Kiddo sends a shiver up my spine. She says it with a voice and accent similar to that of a beloved Aunt of mine who passed away several years ago. I let the shiver pass and try to refocus on the task at hand.

....."Tracks!" Chris yells back from the cab giving me just enough warning to withdraw my needle and abort my attempt. I smile at the lady as I wait for the rumble of train tracks to pass beneath the wheels of our ambulance before starting once again. This lady's smile, and the twinkle in her eyes reminds me even more of Auntie Joyce, and when she grins and winks at me the shiver returns.
....."I must say, you remind me very much of an Aunt I had growing up," I say, settling down on the bench seat and patting her arm as I again resume the IV start. I'd had the vein I wanted zero'd in before we were interrupted, now I had to hunt again. "She lived up in the Midwest."

....."I grew up in the Midwest; it's a good place to be from," she agreed.

While we drove this lady proceeded to tell me a bit about herself and where she had come from in the Midwest. I could relate and we talked at length about ther regional differences and cultural things that we missed now living here. The longer she talked and the more she related, the more I missed my aunt.

Auntie Joyce had been a large part of my childhood, a tough lady, typical for a Midwestern farm wife. She had three boys and ruled them and the rest of us with an iron fist, though she had a soft spot for me as I was the only girl born to that side of the family. She and I shared a passion for horses, and she nurtured that as I grew up, making me into the horsewoman I am today. My talent was natural, hers was one worked hard for over many years. She said my abilities outshined hers by a mile, but I never forgot who laid that foundation in the first place.

As the lady continues to talk, certain memories flit thru my mind just as clear as a bell. The time a cousin and I were dropping marbles thru a ceiling heating grate and I managed to drop a big shooter marble on top of her head just as she happened to enter the room, and how that brought about immediate spankings. The pizzas she would make from scratch on Sundays after church because out where they lived there were no pizza parlors or delivery places. The way her home always had friends, family and neighbors stopping in to visit and share a cup of coffee. That old ugly station wagon she always drove, a gift to her from my uncle when her first son was born. How prould she was of her boys, and the love she had for my Uncle Joe, and how her face lit up at any mention of them and her eyes would twinkle just as my patient's had a moment ago.

Auntie Joyce passed away a few years ago, but in my mind she's not really gone. Her spirit is alive and well inside me. She used to tell me that I was just like her mother (who died long before I was born), how I had the same tenacity, energy and integrity as well as her equine abilities, but I think I am really much more like Joyce was. A force to be reckoned with, someone unafraid of the obstacles that life can sometimes toss your way. Auntie Joyce always encouraged me, and it was while I was visiting her that I decided to to pack up and head West to strike out on my own. We'd been sitting out on the deck drinking ice tea when I announced my intention. She just smiled and kept rocking the porch swing we were sitting in. "You can do anything child, I know you'll make it. Just don't forget us back here, don't forget where you come from. And remember to Take care of yourself Kiddo!"

She was right. I did make it, and though I would never see my Auntie Joyce again, I kept my promise-I never have forgotten her. Nor did I forget the influence she had in my life. Today this sweet patient of mine brought back all of those lovely and funny memories for me in a way that makes me smile and brings a little mist to my eyes.

The ambulance arrived at the hospital, and we brought our patient in. After I had given report and Chris was out reloading the rig I paused in the doorway to say goodbye to the nice lady. She looked up."It was really nice to meet you, a fellow Midwesterner," she said giving me a little wave with her free hand, and giving me that oh-so familiar twinkle. "Thanks for everything. Take care of yourself Kiddo!"

Joyce couldn't have said it better herself.

When Thanks Just Isn't Enough...

This all happened two weeks ago, and I nearly died. Had I passed out again, or drifted back to sleep I would have. Never could I have imagined when I left work on Friday night the events that would occur over the weekend that would leave me so bad off that by Sunday morning I would nearly lose my life. Even now it seems surreal, but to those with me that day, who went above and beyond to ensure I did not leave this Earth, it was a scary and frightening time. To all those people, for all they did, thanks will never be enough...

The look on John and Todd’s faces said it all. Coming in the front door they stopped and both of their jaws dropped in unison. That’s when I came to understand just how bad things really were. Until that point I had it in my mind that I was just very sick nothing more, but in actuality I was dying and they both knew it. Seeing them coming in I felt tears well in my eyes, perhaps it was a sense of relief, or perhaps it was knowing that I was in safe hands now. There’s nobody I trust more on the planet then the folks I work with, of that I have no doubts whatsoever. I am proud of the folks I work with. Their familiar faces brought safety and comfort that day, hence the tears.

With the help of the boys from Fire we were quickly on our way again. Rather then try to wind the way thru the construction zone around my complex, the boys drove the engine over and thru the barriers, pylons and tape that were blocking off the entrance and offered to do a lead out for us.

There was no time for the starting of an IV line, (or as Todd calls it the "digging festivities") or much else, and it was doubtful they would have been able to find any veins by that time anyway. Getting me in ASAP was the priority. The boys kept me awake as they drove, picking on me and trying to make light of things as we went in an attempt to keep me awake. Mike yelled back that he was trying his damnest to hit every manhole cover and pot hole just to impress me. I didn’t have the strength to laugh, but they did make me smile.

I was in and out of ER in a short amount of time. When we rolled in Doc W met us in the ambulance bay. Normally he would have kidded around, but when he saw me his face did the same thing Todd and John’s had. I told him precisely what was wrong, what had happened (how I had gotten sick and passed out on my sidewalk and laid there for 20 minutes without anyone finding me, and how it had taken me another 45 minutes after I crawled inside to be able to get enough energy to try for the phones on the counter) and what we would be needing to do. He took one look and knew I was right on the money."Holy Hell Child..." he said in a soft tone. When he idly wondered which GI Doc was on-call and I told him, Doc W laughed. He said I had worked around here too damn long...

Doc C arrived and took over things from there. I had a GI Bleed, a bleeding ulcer that was exacerbated by the Coumadin (blood thinner) I take for another health problem. He wound up spending a good part of the rest of the day with me. He performed three Gastroscopies on me to cauterize the damage done to an artery wall. By the time he got it stopped I had lost 85% of the blood in my body, and with the use of rapid infusers, blood was quickly replaced. The last time Doc C went in, he knelt beside my bed and told me that he had notified the on-call surgeon who was standing by. If he found any further sign of bleeding or damage with this last go-round, I would be taken straight thru to the OR. Fortunately for me Doc C succeeded.

My adventures won me a lovely room for a couple of days up in ICU. I was hooked up to so many monitors and IV lines I could barely move. I had IVs in both arms and when I looked up at the monitors and poles, I wondered to myself just what kind of weight load they could carry. I had fluids, blood, blood products, and an assortment of medications hanging, a total of eight different things not including the other monitors that were attached. Technology is so amazing its scary.

Chris woke me up the next morning. He knocked on the door and stuck his head in and with his best Mrs Doubtfire voice yelled "Helloooo Avon Calling!" He kept me company for a while and took care of my lab draws and started a new IV line for me while he was there. This is nothing new to him, it’s not the first time he has seen me in a hospital bed and looking my absolute worst. Nothing phases Chris, though he did manage to bite the head off of the male nurse who was suppose to be looking after me. Believe the words he called him were incompetent and idiot, then something about if he did not know what he was doing he better stay the hell out of my way! Not sure what the nurse did to incite the wrath of Chris, but he did not reappear again until well after Chris had gone.

After a couple of days in ICU and three more in a regular room, they finally allowed me to eat again and a day later set me loose again on the world. When I returned to work the following Monday I was stunned at the reactions I got from various friends and co-workers. My incredible story had made the rounds like wildfire, it seemed like virtually everyone knew. Reactions ranged from shock, to tears. One friend actually cried and gave me a hug when she saw me. Doctors paused and told me how badly I had scared Doc C, something not easily done, and that any other doctor would have bowed out and let the OR take over when they saw as much damage as Doc had. I am the only person anyone can recall that Doc C has ever done triple scopes on in one day’s time, quite a fete. One manager stopped me, said he appreciates all I do for the hospital, thanked me for singlehandedly increasing our case load, and told me to Never Do That AGAIN! Believe me Mikey, I won’t!

Thanks can’t begin to cover all of the things everyone did for me. That’s what overwhelmed me most. I owe my life to old Doc C. He and I have been friends and have worked together for years, and over the course of time we have had our share of fights as well, but I have never been afraid to stand toe to toe with him and yell right back at him if the situation arose. One particular battle landed the both of us in the Chief of Staff’s office. I would not back down and eventually won. The fight was nothing personal, they never are, just two terribly stubborn people who will not back down or compromise what they believe in. For that reason he respects me as much as I respect him, and our friendship remains. I still sneak in dark chocolate and hide it in his desk for him. His photography decorates my home and office, gifts from him after his numerous photography excursions around the world.

Sitting up in my ICU room the next day we talked about it all, and he told me how it does not get any worse than what he found yesterday. Dr C does not mince words. He told me flat out I was lucky to be alive period, had I fallen back asleep that morning, or not come in when I did, I would have died.

That's a hard thing to accept, that your life almost came to an end. I am a very lucky, charmed, and blessed woman to have so many wonderful friends and co-workers in my life who will go so far above and beyond just for me. Thank just isn't enough...

Do you MIND?

Couple of months ago I was riding somewhere with Tim, a Lt with the local police department. He and I were running errands in one of the PD's vans for a local charity event we were working on.

As we sat at a stoplight a car rolls up beside us, kids in a sportscar, the loud booming of their bass was so loud it vibrated the windows on the van. Tim frowns, as he has been gritching about a migraine for most of the morning.

Tim rolls down the window and flashes his badge at the car and the kids roll down their window, the music pours out even louder now.

"I have a God Damn Headache, DO YOU MIND?" he barks at them. The kids look at each other and surprisingly they actually turned down the stereo to a human level. Problem Solved.

Clenched Fist

Talking with someone tonight brought this story back to mind.

Most folks have little idea what goes on in the back of an ambulance. They think that folks are happy and appreciative that we are there for them, when that is not always the case. I wish it were.

Many folks don't want to go with us, be they elderly who are stubborn, kids who are scared, adults who are bombed out of their minds on drugs or alcohol, or mental patients who have gone off their meds and just want to end it all. In the course of my career I have been hit, bit, kicked, spit on, had things thrown at me, and called every name in the book on a regular basis. Threats are nothing new.

Over time I have been fortunate to have had partners who have watched my back, and defended me when I needed it. Chris has no tolerance for anyone dissing me, or threatening me in anyway. If he perceives a threat of any kind he will step in and run the case whether he realizes he is doing it or not. Takes a pretty big man to knock my partner down, Chris is a weightlifter extaordinaire, he use to do it competitively in his younger years, but now does it mostly to stay in shape. If there is one thing I have learned, its that you don't fuck around with Chris. The man has a long fuse, but if it comes right down to it, he'd have no reservations about knocking your ass into next week if the situation arose.

One patient stands out in my mind for having tested this theory with Chris and a deputy who had accompanied us for a transport. Liquor can bring out the worst in folks, and this patient was living proof of that as he waged World War 4 back there. By the time the run was thru that patient swore to the heavens he was going to come and "get us all!"

Less than a week later Chris and I had by chance run into this patient out in public. He looked different sober. He approached us, and instinctively Chris took a step out in front of me protectively, probably without even thinking about it. The Great Protector he is. Glancing down I watched as Chris clenched his hand into a tight fist, ready for whatever was about to happen.

Surprisingly the patient stopped and thanked us, apologized for the whole entire thing. He talked for a couple of minutes, and than went on his way. As they talked I had watched as Chris's hand went from a tight fist, to relaxed a bit, then unclenched all together. Before he left the patient had offered to shake Chris's hand.

For some reason that memory sticks in my mind clearly. In Chris's mind a line had been drawn in the sand days earlier and he was not about to back away from it. Come what may Chris had been ready to fight if need be, not just for himself, but for me as well. I will remember that clenched fist always, and all that it represented. Thanks Chris!

Will You Read to Me?

To her it was just another day. This was her life and she knew no different.

Today was a school day just like any other. Getting up she quietly dressed herself and brushed her hair, careful to be quiet and not wake up her Mom. Then she made her own breakfast, frozen waffles from the freezer. She knew how to make them, and where they syrup was. She did all of this just as she did on any other day. When breakfast was finished, dishes put in the dishwasher, she went into her bedroom and found her book, her stuffed cat Meow, and put them into her Dora the Explorer backpack then left for school, locking the front door behind her.

This was her routine. This was her life.

School was only five blocks away, just up the street. Following the sidewalk she walked with her head down, unnoticed, kicking at the occasional rocks and dandelions as she went. The crossing guard down at the big corner didn't really notice her when she came by and he held the traffic for the little group of kids. Somehow she had become invisible again, a trick she had learned long ago. She had learned to become invisible at home, it was just easier that way.

At school she hung her backpack on a peg below a tag she had gotten to decorate all by herself on the first day of school. "Crystal" was spelled out in big first grader sized letters with a couple of stick-cats with whiskers drawn around the edges of the tag. This was her space.

From her backpack Crystal pulls out Meow and the only book that she has ever owned, one she had gotten for her birthday earlier this year. Its a book with pictures of cats and kittens in it, of every size and shape. She loves the pictures and takes it and Meow into her homeroom where she finds herself a mat and drags it to the back of the room. While other kids are playing around she sits alone holding her stuffed kitty and studying the pictures.When Miss Arbor, the homeroom teacher came in before class, she started to prepare for the day. She looked over the kids she considers "her own" and immediately noticed what is so blatantly wrong. It stuns her, but does not surprise her, and it saddens her heart.

Steve-O and I have been making the rounds together off and on this week and he was with me when I pulled up in front of the school. Three cruisers from the Sheriff's Dept are also parked along the curb, never a good sign. Getting called to schools can be pretty routine; kids with asthma, sports injuries, kids getting bonked too hard in dodgeball and what not... Then there are calls like this. Calls to attend to situations just like this.

We are brought back to a boardroom where we find the deputies, Crystal, the principal of the school, Miss Arbor, a counselor, and the school nurse. The child looks tiny and scared, and I don't blame her. She looks so small in amongst all of these adults. It must seem to Crystal that everyone suddenly has a million questions for her now and that they seem to be coming from every angle.

The room finally clears, leaving me and Steve, a female deputy, and the counselor. The deputy is sitting in a chair facing the girl and talking to her in a soft voice. Counselor stays back with me, while Steve has no qualms about taking a seat on the floor beside Crystal's chair so that he is actually below her eye level, and so she will not perceive him as a threat.

Steve has a very quiet nature about him, and along with the soft spoken deputy they talk to Crystal about what has happened to her. Thru carefully worded questions the details and events of the weekend before finally come to light. How this little one endured is beyond me, and her story is painful for all of us to hear. Then I watch the gentle way that Steve asks to look at her arm, and the trusting way that she holds it out for him to examine. He takes his time, careful with her, knowing that she is fragile and extremely vulnerable right now. Step by step he walks Crystal thru everything that he needs to do, explaining why he needs to look into her eyes with a penlight, why he needs to immobilize her arm, and why he needs to listen to her heart and lungs.

While he still sits there on the floor Crystal asks him to listen to Meow's heart too, and he does so with the same seriousness that he has given to her. As us adults stand talking about what we need to do; out of the corner of my eye I see Steve slip off his stethoscope and help her with it so that she can listen to Meow's heart too. He asks her if she can hear it and she eagerly nods her head yes.

When we move to go Steve asks Crystal if she wants to walk with him to our ambulance. He tells her that we need to take her in to get some pictures of her arm, and make sure that she is not hurt anywhere else. Can she walk out okay? Crystal assures him that she is a very big girl and can do that. Picking up her Meow, she and Steve-O lead the way out. She pauses by her peg to show him her "fancy" name, which he agrees looks very fancy indeed.

The ambulance does not frighten her at all, as it does some kids. I paused before closing up the back doors, watching as everybody got situated. Steve had Crystal settled up on the stretcher and got her belted in, explaining to her that the were really just seatbelts . Once he said that she seemed okay with it. When everyone was settled in to my satisfaction, we were on our way. I led the small caravan of vehicles out of town heading a neighboring city's hospital.

As I drive I watch in the back. Crystal and Steve seem to have bonded and they talk on just as if they were the best of buds. Steve is a very soft-spoken man, the total opposite of Chris. It's interesting to see the differences. Chris has a herd of his own kids and is well use to dealing with them and it carries over into work which seems to be just another extension of his home, he treats all kids just as if there were his own. Steve on the other hand is not married and does not have any kids, yet he seems to do pretty well with them. His manner is more like mine, calm, collected and quieter, not silly or kid-like, keeping their attenion and taking a real interest in their needs, treating them respectfully just as if they are miniature adults. Everybody's approach is different; nobody's is right or wrong.

From the driver's seat I can't see Crystal's face; she is facing the opposite direction. She is leaning toward Steve though and letting him dig around in her backpack for something. The next time I glance back I see the both of them hovering over a book, pointing at pictures as he reads the story to her. Seeing them sitting together like that makes me smile. Glancing back now and then I watch them discussing the cat and kitten pictures in earnest, and the book occupies them for quite some time as the miles roll by.

Once we arrive at the hospital our part in this is done. We bring Crystal in and Steve gives report. While I go out to reload he pops his head in to say goodbye to Crystal one last time before returning to the rig. Climbing in we head on our way again.

Steve is silent. He is thinking hard behind those mirrored wrap-around sunglasses of his. I don't mind the quiet, and the silence does not disturb me. It's not an uncomfortable kind of silence at all, it's one borne of understanding, commiseration and friendship. We all deal with things differently, and I understand.

We are just pulling into the station and I am turning the rig around to back it in when Steve finally says something after nearly half an hour of silence.

____"Do you know what she asked me?" Steve asks me as I back the rig into the garage and switch off the engine. I turn and look at him, shaking my head. "She had a book in her bag that she wanted to look at. Told me it was her favorite book of all time, that she'd gotten it for her birthday..." Steve pauses for a moment, taking his sunglasses off and planting them on top of his head. I wait for him to finish his thought.

____"It was her all time favorite book and she asked me to read it to her."
____"There's nothing wrong with that, she seemed to really like you," I say quietly.
____"That's not it. That's her favorite book right, but you know what? Her birthday was last JANUARY! In all this time she's never once had anyone take ten minutes to even read the story to her. She'd never heard it before today!"

By this time Steve's eyes are flashing in anger and he turns, climbs out and slams the door shut behind him. I pause for a long minute to say a prayer before following him back into the station. When I come in he is sitting at the desk doing the paperwork and run sheets for this call.

Once he finishes that he heads down the hall and for a good half hour or so after that I could her the rhythmic clank of weights being lifted while I sit out in the station's living room writing this story. We all handle pressure in different ways, he works out, others shoot baskets, some drop out of reality by watching tv, and I draw or write stories. It helps to have some way to relieve the frustrations that plague our job. When things like this become commonplace, when the day comes when our hearts and minds are no longer affected by things like this, if we should ever stop giving a damn, that's the day we quit.

By the time Steve comes back up the hallway I am in the kitchen making up a big salad for lunch. With my tongs I gesture at him asking if he wants some. He nods.

___"Sorry if I barked at you," he says pulling up a barstool on the far side of the counter.
___"You didn't. Believe me I understand. I'm just glad that little girl had a guy like you around, to take a little time with her." I say quietly, making Steve blush for a moment. He's always easy to make blush. "Hell, I was just shocked to learn that you even knew HOW to read...!"

When I said that Steve started to laugh, and the spell was broken and life resumed. Maybe that's why we all pick on each other so fiercely around here, it helps us get thru stressful times.

So that's my sincere hope for today. That for every neglected and abused child out there just like "Crystal" there will always be someone like Steve in the world who can take care of them when they need it, be angry for them when nobody else cares, and who will take the time to read to them when they themselves cannot and nobody else will.

Station Life Part Two...

Looking behind me there is a general melee of sorts going on. The patient that John and Todd were trying to load into their ambulance was having none of it, as they had been tring to load the man he grabbed hold of the side of the rig with both hands nearly tipping the stretcher and himself over in the process. He was red-hot angry now, shouting threats and swear words loud enough for half the city to hear. This is never a good thing and it happens more often than you might think.

As I approach they get the stretcher up and in, but the ruckus has not diminished any. John lingers in the back door and two cops are standing near by as well, and all three of them are watching for further developments from within. Squeezing past John I climb up into the rig coming in on the patient's right side, while Todd is on the left trying to persuade the man to calm down so that they can get on their way.

Sometimes, for whatever reason, things get off on the wrong foot, and no matter what you do you can't make things right. Once the trouble starts there is no going back, you just can't make someone understand you no matter how hard you try. This is why sometimes it's a good thing to have someone else nearby who can step in. Sometimes women will respond better to another woman treating them, sometimes it's just the opposite. Same thing with men. Sometimes men react differently to men working on them, perhaps it's a testosterone issue, I don't know, but there are also times that men will settle right down and listen to a woman. That was what I was hoping for today...

The verbal battle continued inside the ambulance, Todd having pulled down an IV kit already from one of the overhead compartments was telling the man that he would be putting in the line one way or the other. I watched the man's fist balling up as I sat down on the bench, and just as that fist was about to come up and connect with Todd's jaw, I jammed my arm down grabbing one of the stretcher's struts. The man's arm was effectively blocked and it slammed up into mine but went no further, coming to rest pinned down by his side. That's when he turned and looked up at me as if seeing me for the first time.

___"That's enough of that," I said firmly looking him directly in the eye now. "Trust me; you don't want to do that. If you do, those cops out there are gonna get real interested real quick, and they won't hesitate hauling you in." The anger that had been burning in this man's eyes flared hotter for a moment, but seemed to ebb when he saw that I was serious and not about to take any shit from him. He doesn't know that I grew up on ranches and learned long ago how to face down far bigger beasts then he, namely our bulls and my father.

___"Now come on....what's going on here?" I ask in in a low voice on purpose, it's another trick I employ because it forces him to pay attention and focus on me. "You need to be seen Adam..." I add. Todd always writes notes on his glove which he uses for better recall later and I had cheated and glanced down at his hand to catch the patient's name.
"Adam" studies me for a moment before deciding whether or not I am worthy enough to be trusted with whatever is bothering him. The anger is quickly fading away now.

___"I have to get up to Northfields. I'm suppose to pick up my son and his best friend from soccer practice. I promised them that we'd go to a movie when they got done... I only get him once a month, I can't let him down!"

So that was it. Finally I understood, and could sympathize. Though I have no children of my own, I can understand and indeed I can see the love Adam has for his son. I can read it easily now in his eyes.

Reaching back on my belt I grab hold of one of my cell phones and unclip it from it's holster. "Here's the deal, " I tell Adam. "Right now you need to be seen, and I bet your little boy would agree. He wouldn't want to see his Daddy hurt. That's the last thing he wants. Is there someone you can call to pick him up?"

Adam nods and we strike up a deal. While we are calling his girlfriend (a drama queen who throws a horrendous fit as if Adam had just been axe-murdered) and then his son, Todd is allowed to start the IV line and do his thing. Progress. Finally.

Once the calls are made I reclaim my cell, reassure Adam that he is in good hands with Todd (who winks at me as I close up the rear doors) and they get on their way.

Steve and I load up and just as we buckle up another call comes in. We listen for a moment before he rolls his eyes. It's a mall call....

Station Life...Part One

For those of you who have always wondered, this blog's for you. Hopefully it's the closest you will ever come to riding with us. I wrote this between calls on April Fool's Day while working out of T-Station (a dedicated EMS station), which was a nice change of pace from my regular "home" base at the hospital. So welcome aboard, this is a glimpse at our life.


The deep sound of the alarm tones roll thru the stationhouse.
Red lights simultaneously flare on up in the wall sconces.

For the barest of moments all movement will cease in the station before everyone is up and moving. The monotone drone of the dispatcher comes over, she announces the units needed, the call type designation, the address and nearest cross street, and any particulars on the call. Then she repeats it all again, second time, same verse.

By this time Steve has turned off the stove, John ejects himself out of the LazyBoy he was parked in, his book and bottle of pop tumble to the floor where they will remain fogotten for a while, and Todd comes in on the run from down the hall where he has been lifting weights in the gym room. Nobody is speaking, but everybody is up and moving.

Coming into the big garage the main garage door is rolling quickly up it's track, having been sent on it's journey the moment the tones sounded. Someone has hit the secondary door's switch and it is following the first door's lead.

The movements are nearly identical. John is the first rig's driver and he heads around the side, yanking a power cord out as he goes, while Steve-O does the same with ours. Todd is riding shotgun with John and slams the rear doors shut, while I catch the rears for ours. The doors are heavy, the sound of them being slammed closed combined with the sound of two big diesel engines starting up bring the noise level to a deafening roar leaving no doubt about what's going on or the fact that a departure is imminent.

Climbing into the passenger side of our rig I pull the seatbelt across myself while reaching for one of the radios mounted on the ceiling of the cab. Just as our rig immerges from the garage I radio in our unit number, that we are enroute from the station, and give the address and cross street we are headed for. Dispatch confirms and repeats back what I have just said. Perhaps it sounds repetitive, but there can be no mistake about our destination, it assures us that we are all on the same page.

When we actually get out onto the avenue I glance at my watch. Fifty-three seconds have elapsed since the tones sounded. It would have been less then that had we not had to wait for the other rig to get clear. During the daytime hours departure response time is expected to be less than a minute. Less than two minutes if called out in the dead of night. They seem to prefer that we respond with clothes and shoes on. Details, details...

As Steve-O settles our rig behind John's we briefly discuss directions, then he cranks up the stereo so that the sound in the back is louder, while still enabling us to talk. Heavy metal rolls out of the speakers, which seems to be the norm for the three men I am working with today, quite different than what I am use to with Chris, the Dynamic Duo and the others. I don't mind, not at all, and when the station out of Denver starts playing George Thorogood's Bad to the Bone I can't help but smile and laugh.

Cutting cross town in the traffic we make good time weaving in and out of traffic on John's trail, and arrive three minutes later at an accident scene right in the middle of one of the busiest intersections in town, effectively bringing traffic to a standstill until things can get sorted out. Cars are backed up everywhere eliciting some grumbling from Steve.

By the time we actually get on-scene four minutes have elapsed since the tones sounded. Each of us climb out and grab med kits from the exterior compartments on the rigs then all four of us scatter to assess while the police try to get traffic moving again. From all appearances it looks like there were four cars competing to get into three traffic lanes and low and behold none of them made it. Kinda like a NASCAR scenario. One car doesn't make it and winds up wiping out the rest of the pack.This seems to happen fairly frequently. Everyone is always in such a hurry anymore life really does seem like one big race.

The vehicle I go to assess is a newer F-150 with a momma and her daughter. Mom is not hurt, bumped and bruised a bit, but says she is okay. The little one is not hurt either but she is screaming like a banshee, not because she has been injured, but because she is scared. Hell all things considered I would be too if I were six years old, just riding along with Mom and suddenly out of nowhere had an airbag explode in my face. Woulda scared the shit out of me too.

While I check out little "Nadine" and quietly talk to her, trying to calm her down, Steve-O comes up behind me. He had heard the shrieking and reached into one of the rigs and grabbed a Trauma Bear. Trauma Bears are little stuffed bears that we keep on board for times just like these. They are great, many times once we hand them out a child's attention is drawn away from what's going on around them and they begin to calm down. The reaction is amazing really. I know that on longer transports I have overheard Chris using the bears to tell stories with. He, Todd, and Heather are pretty good at cartoon voices, and I have heard them time and again doing little impromptu "Trauma Bear Shows" in the back.

Steve gains Nadine's attention by making the bear do a dance on my shoulder as I lean over her. This makes her laugh, which makes the bear's dance even more animated. When I turn and glance up at Steve he pretends that I've scared the bear and drops it out of sight behind my back. Nadine is really laughing now, and Mom looks relieved.

Steve nudges me with his knee and tilts his head over toward John. When I look over I can see and hear why...

In The Jungle...

Read a story on-line before work that rather alarmed me. When I got to work I went in and found Doc C in his office.

..."Thank God you're okay. I was worried about you!"
..."Why?"
..."Read a story on the internet about a doctor in Africa getting eaten by a crocodile. Was worried you were off on one of your safari's again."
..."No shit?"

We log on and I find the article for him. He is enthralled, turned out that he had been to the exact area where the doctor become a croc appetizer, and gestured to one of the photos that grace his office walls. Doc C was happy as a lark, humming In the Jungle while he read.

..."Hot Damn! I just LOVE reading stories about other doctors getting mauled by wild animals!" he laughed.
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Chris and I had just finished lunch and were sitting around talking to some friends from another department. While I am talking he is searching around in one of his pockets for something.

He gives my arm a nudge with his elbow. "Want a mint?" he whispers. I nod and hold out my hand as I talk and he drops something with green foil into my palm.

Finishing my story up I look down to unwrap the mint and see that it is not a mint at all, but rather a Phenergan rectal suppository. ( A medication used for nausea, vomiting, or motion sickness.) I immediately smack him hard on the shoulder, call him a jerk, and stick the "mint" back in his shirt pocket. Our tablemates are grinning and enjoying the show.

..."What was it?" someone ventured.
..."Phenergan," I reply.
..."Why in the hell would you be carrying Phenergan around on your person?" they ask.
..."Honestly? We probably don't want to know the answer to that one..." I laugh.
..."For the days when she's driving," Chris pipes up, and quickly leans out of the way before getting smacked again.
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One side of a telephone conversation I heard coming from the office next to mine.

..."Well sounds like you need some strong coffee. You should come over here and try some of Roxy's coffee. It's so strong you don't even have to drink it, all you have to do is inhale a whiff of it and you'll get a caffeine high..."


So Remember all, live, laugh and love more, life is short! Take Care! Love Rox