Don't cramp my style

 A "Delta" call came in one afternoon. There are four levels of calls we get. Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta. Alpha being a non-emergency (smoke alarms going off, illegal BBQ's, etc.) and Delta (heart attacks, respiratory distress, etc.) being an all-out emergency that requires lights and sirens to get to the scene as fast as possible.

Our Delta was for a man who had been injured...... "Unknown Injury" dispatch tells us. We have no idea what we are dealing with. As we race through the streets of San Francisco, we keep in contact with dispatch for updates. There are none. We arrive at the scene and the PD isn't there yet. The police usually arrive first to secure a scene but not this time.

We see the injured man. He is sitting against a wall, bleeding from his leg. Right off the bat we can tell its a stab wound. I am wondering where the heck the SFPD is. They should have been here. Someone stabbed this man and we don't know where the assailant is. I am feeling a bit uneasy but forget this since the man needs medical attention and quickly.

My partner, Rick, asks the man, "What happened here?" to which he answers, "I think I got stabbed."

(YA THINK???)

The man is bleeding profusely. Rick starts to cut the man's pant leg open so we can treat the wound. All of a sudden, the man has a seizure. I am thinking there is a chance the man overdosed on something. I am worried about needles as I hold the man down to keep him from injuring himself further as I try to put pressure on the wound.

My Captain and two other Firefighters arrive, along with the PD... finally! The EMT's have arrived also. They prepare the gurney for our patient.

"Check his pockets," I tell Rick. One pocket contained a couple bags of white powder. The other pocket was full of more stuff. Rick pulls out more bags and money and suddenly there is a loud pop. I look at Rick knowing something has hit me like a brick wall in the stomach. The look on Rick's face is total horror.

"He had a gun in his pocket. It went off, " Rick says in a panic. He had no idea at first that I was the one to block that bullet.

"I know. And you are really cramping my style!" I tell Rick as I fall to the ground.

I don't feel pain but I do feel warm blood soak my shirt and pants and there is a hot feeling in my abdomen. My Captain calls for another ambulance. His voice in panicked. People are asking me questions. I cannot answer. I am trying to keep from fainting. I look around and I see my men gathered around. AMR has taken the man with the stab wound to the hospital. I find out later he died from an overdose.

I remember being angry that my shirt had been cut away to expose the gunshot wound. Half naked in public is not how I wanted to be seen! There is a commotion around me and a sense of urgency. Captain Harold is barking out orders. Rick and Darryl are trying to stop the bleeding from my abdomen. Despite my desperate attempt to avoid fainting, I slowly saw the world become dark.

Several hours later, after 4 hours of surgery, I wake up. Ok, now I feel pain and lots of it. My Captain is sitting in a chair with his eyes closed. I watch him for awhile and try to tell him something but can't. There is a tube down my throat. All I can do is grunt. Harold opens his eyes and leans towards me. I am pointing at the tube.

"It has to remain for awhile more, " he says. I try to shake my head no.

He calls the nurse. "I have a feeling that if you don't remove the tube, she will do it herself," he tells her. "Can you find out if it can be removed?" She leaves the room to get an order for its removal. Heck, I can do it myself! All I can do is stare at my Captain. He is telling me about the gunshot (like I had forgotten???). He also tells me about the surgery and what was involved. I come to know that half of my stomach was removed due to the extensive injury. The bullet missed all the other major organs. He tells me there is mesh wiring all throughout my abdomen to hold it all together. As he is telling me this, for some reason I am thinking to "chicken coops" and I don't know why.

The tube is removed but I still can't talk. My throat is sore. The nurse puts pain medicine in my IV and I fall asleep again.

I don't know for how long I was asleep but Harold is still there although he isn't in uniform now. I suppose he went home to shower and change. His face is worn. For a man of nearly 55, he is still a handsome man. His wife died a few years ago. Harold never dated after her death. I doubt he ever will although there are a lot of women who are attracted to him. We always tell him to "go out into the world" and live it up. He's been alone too long. But he is content with his life.

He smiles and asks how I am doing. I hate hospitals. I am a bad patient. "Can I go home now?" I ask him.

"What? You just had major surgery!" he says.

"So? Can I go home now?"

He shakes his head. "You'll be here for a week at least."

Ok, now I am upset.

"Rick wants to see you," Harold says. "He isn't taking this whole thing very well. You want to see him?"

Why wouldn't I? He is my partner. I tell Harold to let Rick in. Since I am in the Intensive Care Unit, they allow only one visitor at a time. Harold leaves and Rick walks in. He looks at me, then around the room seeing all the machines and tubes and drips. He has this look on his face that makes me so sad. He is truly upset. He tries to tell me something but chokes on his words. I am feeling really sorry for him.

"Its ok," I tell him. "It was an accident." (I was later told that the gun was loaded and cocked in that man's pocket. When Rick pulled out the bags of heroin, one of the bags pulled on the trigger and discharged the gun).

Rick pulls up the chair next to the bed and scoots in close. He puts his head down on the side of the bed and holds my hand. He breaks down in tears and sobs. His anguish tears my heart apart. He keeps repeating how sorry he is. I told him it wasn't his fault. He continues to sob until he is too tired to cry anymore. We talk for awhile. He asks what he can do for me.

"Get me out of here," I tell him.

He thinks I am kidding but I am serious. He has no plans to help me escape.

I spent two weeks in the hospital recovering. I thought Harold said it would only be a week? Rick went into counseling to "get over" his feelings of guilt. I never blamed him for what happened. It was truly just an unfortunate accident. I returned to work after I got my strength back.

Several months later, Rick and I were at the scene of a motorcycle accident. Our patient was a 37 year old biker who hit the center divide on the freeway. He had a compound fracture in his leg where the bone was protruding through the skin. The man was wearing leather pants and Rick was cutting away the man's pant leg to expose the fracture.

I'm not quite sure what happened but the next thing I know.... Rick's knife slipped and cut my neck. He missed my jugular vein by a fraction.

I'm having a bit of deja vu at this time.

Bleeding is controlled, I get to ride in the ambulance once again (as a patient) and a few stitches later, I am fine again.

I'm beginning to think Rick is either out to get me or I am very accident prone.

;-)