"Station 51, fire in the circus at the shopping mall, 2100 Prospect Avenue, 2100 Prospect Avenue; cross-streets Hastings and Columbia, time out 1752."
"Station 51, KMG 365," responded Hank Stanley.
As they raced to the scene, Roy commented, "What are the odds that there'll be cars parked in the fire lane again?"
Johnny was checking out a map of the area. "I'm not a betting man, Roy. At this time of day, it's almost certain -- people getting in their last-minute shopping -- especially with a circus taking up half the parking lot. According to the map, Mike should be able to take the engine through the back from Waverly if there's too many parked cars. That's assuming the circus is set up in the west parking lot." He spoke into the radio, "Engine 51 from Squad 51."
"Go ahead, Johnny," answered the captain.
"Cap, if there are cars parked in the fire lanes, we think we can probably get the squad through, but the engine can go along Hastings to Waverly and go through the back lot."
"Right, Johnny. Let us know as soon as you can see the situation."
"10-4, Cap."
As they approached the shopping centre they could see some flames and a lot of smoke emerging from a couple of smaller tents beside the main tent. As feared, the fire lane was clogged with cars. Johnny shook his head as he picked up the microphone to call the engine.
"Engine 51 from Squad 51. You'll definitely have to take Waverly and approach from the back lot. The front access is completely blocked," reported Johnny.
"10-4, Squad 51. Mike, take it around to Waverly and come in the back way. Johnny, can you approach from the front?" inquired Captain Stanley.
"I think so, Cap. There's no way the engine can get through, though. The fire's toward the front of the west parking lot. There are two side-show tents involved at the moment. Not too much flames, but a lot of smoke," replied Johnny.
"10-4," came the reply.
Mike sounded the air horn in irritation to clear the crowd away as he drove the engine along the side street to the back of the mall. It took two minutes to position the engine near the fire rather than the thirty seconds it would have taken had the route not been blocked. Fortunately, the squad was able to get closer to the site of the fire than the engine. Mike parked the engine in the only available space, which was at an angle to the main circus tent. That left about six feet of the engine angled out into the traffic on Waverly, but there was no way to get closer.
"Lopez, Kelly, get an inch-and-a-half on that fire. DeSoto, Gage, check to see that everyone's out of there," called Stanley.
"Right, Cap," they acknowledged as DeSoto and Gage donned their breathing apparatus.
"Cap, the hydrant's blocked by that trailer. We'll have to pump directly from the tanks," called Mike in frustration as he turned to the gauges to regulate the hose pressure.
"Right, Stoker."
Vince Howard, the police officer on the scene, crossed over to the engine with a visibly upset elderly man.
"I've called for backup, and we're controlling the crowd, Hank," said Vince. "This is Mr. Del Gado."
"My son -- he is still in there!" shouted the man, waving wildly at the small tent that was now engulfed in flames.
"Is there anyone else in there?"
"No, no, just my Bruno. Please, get him out!"
"Don't worry, Mr. Del Gado, we'll get him. DeSoto, there's a man still in that tent. Name's Bruno."
"Right, Cap. C'mon Johnny, let's go," called Roy as he and Johnny hurried to the tent.
"Hello! Anybody in here? Bruno!" they shouted into the thick, blinding smoke.
"Over here!" called a voice from the far side of the tent.
"Roy, shine the light this way. Bruno?" asked Johnny.
"Yeah. Man, am I glad to see you. Can you guys get these stupid things off me and get me out of here?" asked a man trapped under a rack of barbells.
"Sure can. Are you hurt anywhere? What happened?" asked Roy.
"No, I'm not hurt, just trapped under Mario's toys here. That idiot so-called fire eater got drunk and decided to pretend he was a great strongman. He fiddled with a couple of the barbells and put them back in the wrong spots on the rack and it just tipped over. I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anyway, he panicked and tipped over his brazier, which started the fire. Then, like the great hero he is, he ran away leaving me trapped in a burning tent. When I catch up with him, he'll learn what it's really like to eat fire. Anyone working in a circus knows, or should know, that you keep a bit of distance between liquid paraffin and fire."
Roy and Johnny quickly rolled the barbells to the side while Chet and Marco doused the flames.
"Okay, Roy, now that we've got the barbells off, if you can grab on that end and lift on three, we'll get the rack off Bruno. Ready? One, two, three!"
As they heaved up the rack, Bruno slithered out, coughing from the smoke.
"Are you sure you're okay, Bruno? Can you walk?" asked Johnny.
"Yeah, no problem. Let's get out of here," said Bruno. "And, thanks, guys."
"Just doing our jobs," smiled Roy.
"How's your breathing, Bruno?" asked Johnny as they left the tent. "We've got some oxygen over here if you need any."
"No, I'm okay, thanks," answered Bruno. "I just want to get my hands around Igor's neck."
"Bruno!" shouted his father as he hurried over. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, Papa. Now let's get out of the firemen's way. They don't need any more people gawking around here."
Bruno and his father rejoined the knot of other circus performers at the side of the parking lot. The fire was, by now, extinguished.
"Okay, guys, let's pack things up here," said Hank, heading toward the tent to check one last time. "LA, this is County 51. This fire is out. Station 51 available in fifteen minutes."
"10-4, 51."
"Look out!" came a scream from the crowd amid the screech of air brakes being applied. As one, all eyes focused on an eighteen-wheeler narrowly missing Engine 51. As if in slow motion, the semi jackknifed and crashed into the centre pole of the main tent. The impact shattered the pole, and brought down the tent.
"Mike!" shouted Hank, far too late to do anything to stop the shattered remnants of the pole from crashing into the stunned engineer. Stoker looked up in surprise, then let out a single shriek of agony as the pole clobbered him, and then there was silence.
****
"Gage, DeSoto! See to Stoker! Lopez, Kelly, check and see how many other people are hurt. LA, this is County 51. We have had an eighteen-wheeler crash into a circus tent here. We have a firefighter down. No word yet on other injuries. Respond an ambulance and another company to this location. Stand by for further information," said Hank with dread in his voice.
"10-4, 51. Standing by."
"Chet, you go to that end of the tent! I'll take this one!" called Marco.
"Right, Marco. Hey, is there anybody hurt under here?" shouted Chet as he headed toward a moving bulge under the canvas of the huge tent.
"Yeah! I think I've got a broken arm. There's a girl here who's got some cuts, but we seem to be all right. This canvas is really heavy, though. Not exactly my idea of a beach towel. Can you get us out from here?" replied a man.
"How many of you are trapped there?" asked Chet.
"There's five of us in this section. I think there were about six or seven at the other end of the tent, but I could be wrong."
"Okay," said Chet. "Hang in there. We'll get you out as soon as we can."
At the other end of the massive tent, Marco had found a similar situation -- nobody was seriously hurt, but seven people were trapped in the folds of the tent.
Captain Stanley resisted the overwhelming impulse to drop everything and check on his engineer. Gage and DeSoto would take care of Mike Stoker. Meanwhile, he had his job to do. He went over to the rig to check on the driver.
"Oh God! I didn't see it! I tried to stop-- is he okay? What about the crowd?" spluttered the driver of the rig.
"Are you okay, mister?" asked Captain Stanley distractedly through his clenched teeth.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just bumped my head a little. Nothing to worry about. How's that fireman?" replied the driver.
"I don't know yet. Look, are you sure you're all right?"
"Sure. Just a little shaky. Go see to the others. I'll just talk to this policeman here. I'm really sorry."
"He's all yours, Vince," said Hank as he headed toward the collapsed tent. "Right. Chet, Marco, what's the score over here?" Hank asked.
"Cap, there's about a dozen people trapped under the canvas here -- five or six on each side. Apart from that, there's just minor cuts and bruises. There doesn't seem to be anyone else. Luckily, the tent wasn't open to the public yet. I think there's a couple of broken arms, from what they've said, but that's about it. We got really lucky there," said Marco.
"Yeah, really lucky," said Hank bitterly.
"How's Mike doing?" asked Chet anxiously as he struggled with the heavy canvas.
"I don't know yet. Roy and Johnny are working on him. LA, this is County 51. We have about a dozen people trapped here. What's the ETA on that other company?"
"Station 8, what's your ETA to Station 51's location?"
"LA, our ETA is ten minutes."
"10-4 Station 8. Do you need any further assistance, 51?"
"LA, just as a precaution, we could use another couple of ambulances. When we get these people freed, we'll be able to size things up better. Also," said Hank, hating the words, "we'll need to replace our engineer. He's been injured."
"10-4, 51. Standing by."
"Marco, Chet, we'll never be able to lift all this canvas. Let's just cut it away from here and get to these folks," said Hank.
"Anything we can do to help, Captain?" asked Bruno, followed by a large group of circus performers.
"Yeah. We've got some people trapped in the canvas over here. Do you have anything we can use to cut it away from them?"
"Certainly. We've got all our rousting gear. We'll get right on it." He turned and issued some quick orders to his performers, who headed to the equipment trailers at a run. Bruno turned back to Hank. "Captain, take two minutes to go check on your man," said Bruno, with understanding compassion in his eyes.
"Thanks, pal. I'll be back in a minute," said Hank gratefully.
Meanwhile, Gage and DeSoto had their hands full. The ridgepole had splintered from the impact and was lying on the right side of Stoker's body, pinning him to the ground under the canvas of the tent. There was far too much blood on the canvas they were cutting away from their friend. He had not responded to any of their frantic queries.
"Okay, Roy, I've nearly got him free on this side. How about that side?"
"No way, Johnny. The canvas is all attached to the ridgepole somehow. We'll have to work around it," answered Roy grimly.
As Johnny peeled back the canvas from Mike Stoker, they heard clearly the heart-clutching sound of laboured breathing that indicated only one thing: a sucking chest wound. Johnny swore as he opened Mike's blood-soaked shirt.
"Roy, there's part of a rib through the skin here, and he's got air being sucked into the chest cavity. Hand me some plastic."
"What else can you see?" asked Roy anxiously, working frantically to cut the canvas from the other side of the ridgepole as Johnny taped the plastic on the chest wound.
"That ridgepole has splintered all along one side and it looks like Mike's been impaled in about three or four places. He's got cuts and bruises all along his right side, but there's some really jagged pieces of the pole about the size of a broom handle that have actually gone through his skin at the shoulder, abdomen and upper thigh. We'll need some pressure dressings on this leg and maybe on the shoulder. It looks like he got hit on the head, too. He's got bruising on his right jaw and temple." He continued his examination. "Damn! Better add compound fracture of the right clavicle and probable dislocated right shoulder. Can you reach his right arm from under the pole?"
"No, Johnny -- it's buried in the canvas. Let me just cut this away -- that's got it. His arm's cold, but I'm getting a really weak radial pulse -- barely perceptible, but there," said Roy.
"Roy, we'll need a light dressing on the abdomen. Then I'll take his vital signs."
"Okay, here you go. I'll get the drugbox, biophone and oxygen from the squad," said Roy as he got up.
"Here, let me get the oxygen for you. How's he doing?" Hank asked Roy as they gathered the equipment.
"Not good, Cap. He's unconscious, he's got massive trauma, he's lost a lot of blood, and he's in pretty deep shock. We're going to have a problem getting that pole off him. It's broken in a lot of places, and there are some pieces that have sort of skewered him as well as pinning him. We've got to try to stabilize him a bit first, then we'll see what we can do about freeing him. We'll let you know. How about the driver and the rest of the crowd?" asked Roy in a carefully neutral voice as they lugged the equipment over.
"We've got about a dozen people trapped under the canvas. The circus folks are helping with that. Station 8's on the way. The driver is fine," he added bitterly, almost as an afterthought. "I've got to get back there."
"Yeah, Cap. I know. We're doing everything we can here."
Johnny was busy taping dressings around the spike in Mike's shoulder when Mike stirred and moaned.
"Mike, can you hear me?" asked Johnny for the tenth time.
"Yeah..." came a weak reply. "I...feel...like...hell," Mike gasped.
"Don't worry, Mike. You're in the best hands," said Johnny.
"Some...ego...trip...for...you..."
"Don't move, Mike," cautioned Roy, as he placed a cervical collar on Mike. "Just let me get this collar on you."
"Where...would...I...go?"
Roy set up the biophone. "Rampart, this is County 51. Rampart, this is County 51."
"Mike, how do you feel?" asked Johnny.
"I...feel...sick..." moaned Mike. "Thirsty...too...hard...to...breathe...My.. chest...hurts...Why....can't...I..move?"
"Mike, I'm going to put this oxygen on you. Don't try to talk, just breathe," said Johnny. "One of the poles from the circus tent fell on you, but we're going to get you out of here real soon. Just hang in there. I'm going to take your blood pressure now."
"My...head...aches..."
"Squad 51, this is Rampart. Go ahead," came Joe Early's reply from the biophone.
"Rampart, we have a fireman pinned and impaled by the broken ridgepole of a circus tent. Open fractures of right clavicle, at least one rib on right side. There are probably other fractured ribs, too. Probable dislocated right shoulder. Subcutaneous penetration of the ridgepole at right shoulder, right thigh and upper right quadrant of abdomen. Contusions to right jaw and temple. Stand by for vitals," said Roy as calmly as possible into the biophone.
"Standing by, 51. How is the patient's breathing?" asked Joe.
"Rampart we've got him on high-flow oxygen, but he's still having difficulty breathing. There's a penetrating chest wound with a protruding rib which we've dressed with an occlusive dressing, around the broken rib. Also, we have dressings around the sites where the ridgepole splintered. The three spikes are about three-quarters of an inch thick, and we can't tell how deep the penetration is. There are no exit wounds," reported Roy.
Johnny called over, "Roy, vital signs: pulse is 104, weak and regular; respiration is 28 shallow and gasping, even with the oxygen; blood pressure is 110 over 70. Pupils are equal and reactive but sluggish and slightly dilated. Skin's pale, cool and diaphoretic."
Roy repeated the vital signs to Rampart. Joe Early shot a worried glance at Kelly Brackett and Dixie McCall. "51, start two IVS -- D5W tko and Ringer's lactate. How long until you can transport him?"
"We have to get the tent and ridgepole off him first. We'll try cutting off the parts that are impaling him, but if we can't do that, we'll have to remove them and hope that the bleeding doesn't get out of control," said Roy.
"I'm...cold..." slurred Mike.
Johnny leaned over Stoker anxiously. "Mike, don't fade on me! Mike?" Johnny quickly checked Stoker's abdomen. He didn't like what he found. "Roy, he's semi-consciousness, and the upper right quadrant is going rigid. We're going to have to move him, and fast," said Johnny urgently.
"Right. Rampart, patient's upper right quadrant is rigid and he's semi-consciousness. We're going to try to lift the pole off in a couple of minutes. Stand by."
"Standing by, 51. Can you give us another set of vital signs?" Joe asked. "Also, do you know his blood type?" He turned to Dixie and said, "Dixie, alert the OR. We're going to need a thoracic surgeon and at least 6 units of blood, probably a lot more from the sounds of things."
"Right away, Joe," came Dixie's crisp reply as she left to notify the OR.
"Cap, we need your help now," called Roy, as Johnny bent to reassess Mike's vital signs.
"Right," said Hank as he finished briefing Station 8's captain, who then took charge of the scene. "C'mon, Chet, Marco. What do you need us to do, Roy?"
"Cap, we've got to get this thing off him without jarring it at all," reported Roy. "The pole is acting sort of like a pressure dressing, and those spikes are acting like mini-tourniquets. Even at that, once we lift the weight off him, the sudden release of pressure could cause him to bleed even more and he could go downhill fast."
"Is it better to try cutting off those splinters and just leave them in his shoulder, leg and abdomen? We could probably manage that with the chain saw," suggested Hank.
"That sounds best. We've got to do it right now, though," confirmed Roy. "He doesn't have much time."
"Roy, vital signs are: pulse 110, weak and irregular; respiration 34, shallow and laboured; blood pressure 100 over 60. Pupils unchanged. Skin is cold, clammy and cyanotic. Mike, can you hear me?" asked Johnny.
"Yeah....I'm....floating...." mumbled Mike.
"Mike, what's your blood type? Come on, Mike, it's important."
"Um.....my head....hurts...Can't....think....A....positive?"
"Don't worry, we'll have you out of here real soon," said Johnny.
"Rampart, this is County 51. Patient's blood type is A positive. Latest vitals: pulse 110, weak and irregular; respiration 34, shallow and laboured; blood pressure 100 over 60. Pupils unchanged. Skin is cold, clammy and cyanotic. Patient is barely conscious at this point. We're going to try to cut the splinters off the ridgepole and leave them in place rather than removing them when we move the pole off him," reported Roy.
"10-4, 51. As fast as you can."
Hank said, "Roy, Johnny, Marco, you guys ready? Chet, get the backboard off the squad." As he received confirming nods from his crew, Hank turned to Mike. "Mike, we're going to try to cut these pieces off the pole before we move it. We'll be as fast and careful as possible, but it might hurt a bit more. Are you ready, Mike?"
"Yeah...as...ready...as...I'll...ever...be," came the weak reply.
"Go ahead, Marco."
Mike flinched slightly as the chainsaw came into his vision. They covered his head and as much of his body as possible with an emergency blanket. Roy and Johnny reassured Mike while Marco carefully and expertly cut the splinters from the pole, as the others held it in place to keep it from moving. "That's got it, Cap."
"How you doing, Mike?" asked Hank.
"Didn't...feel...a...thing...thanks...Any...one...else...hurt?"
"8's taking care of them. Don't worry about that. Just hang in there, pal," said Hank.
Mike weakly grabbed at Captain Stanley with his left hand. "Cap.... listen..." he dragged in a breath " ..tell....Peggy.... I ....love...her...." whispered Mike.
Hank squeezed his hand in reassurance. "You can do that yourself, pal, when you see her." He turned to the others who were still balancing the ridgepole. "Okay, guys, get ready to lift on..." began Cap.
"No need, Captain," interrupted Bruno. "Ethel here is the best lifting machine we've got." He pointed to an elephant that he had brought over. "Besides, she works for peanuts. She'll be able to lift that pole straight up and out of the way in one go." Bruno crouched down next to Stoker and said, "I'm Bruno, the ringmaster and director of this little circus. I'm really sorry about all this."
"Me...too..." grimaced Mike.
"Ethel, pole!" said Bruno, as the elephant wrapped her trunk about the middle of the ridgepole. "Okay Ethel, lift!" commanded Bruno. In the space of two seconds, the pole was lifted smoothly up and away from Mike. Mike's eyes widened as the pain and shock of his injuries hit him all at once, then he gasped and slid into unconsciousness.
"Mike! Mike? No response, Roy," said Johnny anxiously. "I'm checking his vital signs."
"Get that backboard in here, Chet. Rampart, this is County 51," said Roy.
"Go ahead, 51."
"The splinters have been cut off the pole and left in place. The pole has been lifted off without dislodging the embedded splinters. Patient is now unconscious and on a backboard. Stand by for vitals. Well, Johnny?" asked Roy.
Johnny shot him a grim look and shook his head. "Pulse 134, irregular, thready -- I can barely feel it; respiration 10, very shallow; b.p.'s 70 over 40. I'm putting more pressure on this leg wound. Chet, can you get the bag-valve mask, heart monitor and defibrillator from the squad? We're going to need to assist his breathing, and they'll want a cardiac strip. Let's move, guys," Johnny said to the ambulance attendants as they lifted Mike's unconscious form to the stretcher.
"Rampart, vital signs: Pulse 134, irregular, thready; respiration 10, very shallow; b.p. is 70 over 40. We have increased pressure to the leg wound. We are assisting ventilations, and we are transporting now. We are hooking him up to the monitor and we'll send you a strip when it's done. ETA is about 15 minutes," reported Roy as he carried the biophone over to the ambulance.
"10-4, 51. We'll be ready."
"Roy, put the defibrillator on the bench just over there," directed Johnny as he hooked up the heart monitor. "I just hope we won't need it," he said. "Rampart, we're sending you a strip now. I'll see you at Rampart, Roy," said Johnny grimly. "Let's roll!" he shouted to the driver.
The ambulance sped off. Roy looked in distress at the bloody remnants scattered on the ground. His breath caught as he kicked aside what was left of Mike's bloody shirt. Roy sighed and put the remaining equipment into the squad.
"I'll call as soon as we know something, Cap. Is it okay if we stay available on the air from Rampart?"
"Yeah, Roy, that's fine. Station 8's here to help clean things up, and we'll be there later if we can," Hank sighed dejectedly. "I've got to call Peggy. Any idea on his chances?"
"I don't really know. His vitals are unstable, but he's in great physical shape, and that will certainly help. I've seen people with worse injuries that survived, but we don't know how much internal damage there is, and that's where the real danger lies," answered Roy.
"I'll see if Sandi can come to be with her at the hospital. Then I'll check back with LA about Mike's replacement," said Hank bleakly.
"Good idea -- I'll call Joanne when I get to Rampart. Her sister should be able to take care of the kids for a while. Peggy can use all the support she can get. This is going to be a rough night, no matter what happens. He'll be in surgery for hours with those injuries. Is there anyone else hurt, over there?" asked Roy.
"No serious injuries -- a couple of broken arms, bruises, that sort of thing. Station 8's got things under control over there. I'll go check with them, then I'll call Sandi and Peggy."
"Cap, Mike's in good hands. They'll do everything possible," reassured Roy. "I just wish there was more we could have done here. It's just such a dumb thing to have happened."
"I know, Roy. It's just so damned stupid! Why don't people keep out of fire lanes?" Hank said in frustration.
"Yeah. I know what you mean. I'll see you later."
***
As the gurney came through the doors of the emergency department, Joe Early said, "This way, room 2. How's he doing, Johnny?"
"Well, his respiration's picked up to about 20, but he's still having difficulty breathing. Apart from that, his vital signs are the same. The bleeding from the leg is controlled, and I've put a second dressing lightly on the abdominal wound. It seems to have stopped bleeding. He's really shocky, but he's holding his own. He's still unconscious, but at least he doesn't seem to be getting any worse. His heart rate seems to have levelled off -- at least it's more regular."
"We've got the OR ready, John. As soon as we've taken x-rays and stabilized him, he'll be going up. Mark," Joe said to the x-ray technician, "We'll need a full skull series, right clavicle, shoulder, femur. Also, the ribs and pelvis. You'll have to work around these spikes without moving them."
"Got you, Joe," Mark said as he began to manoeuvre the x-ray machine into position.
"Thanks, Mark. Johnny, what exactly happened?" asked Joe when they gathered in the hallway outside the trauma room.
Johnny explained what had occurred. "So, it's been about half an hour since the accident -- it seems so much longer, somehow. I feel like I've aged years in only minutes. Hey, Roy, did Cap get in touch with Peggy?" he asked as Roy approached them in the corridor.
"Yeah. He also called Sandi, and I called Joanne. They're going to pick Peggy up and bring her here. How's he doing?"
"His respiration's up a bit, but he's still unconscious. His vital signs are pretty much the same, though, so I guess he's not losing any more ground, right, Doc?" answered Johnny.
"Let's hope so, Johnny."
"Cap says we can stay here for a while. I've already notified LA that we're available from Rampart," said Roy.
Mark exited with the x-ray films. " You can go back in now. I should have these for you right away," he told Joe.
"Great, Mark." They went back into the room. Joe turned back to Mike. "Mike? Mike, can you hear me?" asked Joe.
"No response, Doc, not even to pain," said Johnny as he checked Mike's level of consciousness.
"Johnny, can you check his vitals? Roy, he'll need an esophageal airway. Can you get that ready?" asked Joe as he began examining the wounds.
"Blood pressure's 80 over 60. Pulse is 116, weak and regular. Respiration is 28, shallow and laboured. Skin is cold, clammy and cyanotic. Pupils are dilated and sluggish, but reactive," reported Johnny.
"Airway's in," said Roy.
"Thanks, fellows."
Mark came back into the room. "Here's the films, Joe."
"Thanks, Mark." Joe examined the x-rays, then called the operating room. "Janice, it's Joe. I've just looked at the x-rays. There doesn't seem to be any skull injury at all, but it's still impossible to tell if there's been a concussion -- he's still unconscious. Ribs three through seven are broken, with number seven protruding through the skin. It looks like he's got a hemopneumothorax on the right side. There are three embedded objects, three-quarters of a inch thick, buried at an upward angle of 45 degrees from the sites of penetration -- right shoulder near the fractured clavicle, upper right quadrant (which is rigid at this point), upper right thigh. They seem to be betwen an inch and two inches deep at each site." Roy and Johnny looked at each other in dismay as the seriousness of the injuries sank in. Joe continued, "The pelvis looks okay, as does the rest of the right leg. There's an open fracture of the clavicle, and a dislocated shoulder. All the injuries are to the right side. He's about as stable as we can make him down here. Latest vital signs are: b.p. 80 over 60; pulse 116, weak and regular; respiration 28, shallow and laboured. Right. Thanks, Janice, he's on the way up now."
Joe hung up the phone and turned to the two worried paramedics as the orderlies wheeled Mike out. "Well, now we've just got to wait. You guys want some coffee? You sure look like you could use some."
"Sounds like a good prescription to me," said Johnny.
"I'll just call the station and give them an update," said Roy. "I'll meet you in the lounge."
***
After they'd finished their coffee, they left the lounge and ran into Peggy Stoker, Sandi Stanley and Joanne DeSoto, who had just arrived. Peggy had obviously been crying, but she managed to ask, "How's my husband, Doctor?"
"He's in surgery right now. Come into the lounge and have some coffee, and I'll explain things. I'm Dr. Early," he said as he gestured to the lounge.
"Peggy Stoker," she replied shakily, "And this is Sandi..."
"It's okay, Peg," said Sandi. "We're both old friends of Joe's. Sit down, hon."
Roy silently prepared three mugs of coffee for the women as Joe explained Mike's situation.
"How long...how long will he be in surgery?" asked Peggy, with tears brimming in her eyes.
"We're not sure. It depends on how much internal damage there is. A couple of hours at least, maybe as long as four or five hours. Janice Evans is the best thoracic surgeon in the hospital. You can wait here in the lounge if you like, or in the waiting room. As soon as we hear anything, I'll let you know."
"Thanks, Doctor."
The radio crackled to life. "Squad 51, Engine 51. Unknown-type rescue. 59 Market Street, 59 Market Street, cross street Lancaster. Time out 1910."
"Squad 51, 10-4," responded Roy. As he turned to leave, Joanne gave him a fierce hug and whispered, "Be careful, darling."
"Always," he whispered back as he kissed her. "Let's go, partner."
***
As Gage and DeSoto neared the scene, they could see Engine 51 had just arrived. A model airplane was burning rapidly in a blaze in the middle of the lawn. A short distance away from the fire a woman was rolling on the grass to put out the fire on her right arm. As the engine crew extinguished the blaze, Roy and Johnny brought their equipment over to the woman.
"Ma'am? Where are you hurt?" asked Johnny.
"My arm! My face!" she answered.
"What's your name, ma'am?" asked Roy.
"Sherri. Sherri Lincoln."
"I'm Roy and this is Johnny. We're going to cover your arm and face with some burn dressings. That should ease the pain and cool things off. Can you tell us what happened?"
"I was trying to refuel my son's model airplane. There must have been a spark, although I don't know how -- the fuel ignited, so I dropped the plane and went to get the hose, then the airplane kind of exploded," she said.
"Are you having any difficulty breathing at all?"
"No. My arm and face hurt like blazes, pardon the pun."
Roy smiled. "Well, this water should help. We're going to give you some oxygen, but we'll use the nasal cannula instead of a mask so there'll be less pressure on those burns on your face. Can you move this arm at all?"
"Yeah. It hurts to move it though, but it doesn't feel broken or anything."
"Well, it will hurt for a while. Do you have pain anywhere else?" asked Roy.
"No, just the arm and the face. I remembered the idea of ‘stop, drop and roll', so I did that. Don't try igniting your arm, though -- it's the pits," she grimaced in pain.
Johnny set up the biophone. "Rampart, this is County 51. How do you read?"
"This is Rampart. Go ahead, 51," said Kel Brackett.
"Rampart, we have a female, age about 30..."
"I'm 38, actually," said Sherri.
"Correction, Rampart, a female age 38 with third degree burns to twenty per cent of the right arm and first and second degree burns to the right side of the face from a model airplane explosion. We have irrigated the burns and applied dressings. Vital signs: pulse is 96, strong and regular; respiration is 18 and regular; blood pressure is 140 over 100. Pupils equal and reactive. There are pulses present in all extremities. There is no respiratory difficulty, and we have her on oxygen. Skin is pale, cool and moist. She is fully conscious and in considerable pain."
"51, is there any possibility of head injury?" asked Brackett.
"Negative. She has no drug allergies or medical conditions."
"Start an IV with Ringer's. Also, administer 5 mg MS-IV, and transport as soon as possible."
"10-4, Rampart. IV with Ringer's lactate and 5mg MS-IV. Any word on Mike, yet?" asked Johnny.
"Nothing yet, Johnny. Sorry."
"Right, Doc. We're transporting now."
"10-4, 51."
"See you at Rampart, Johnny," called Roy as he climbed into the ambulance.
The other firefighters came over to help Johnny clean up the equipment. "Hey, Johnny," said Hank, "This is Engineer Andy Fredericks. Andy, John Gage."
"Pleased to meet you. I wish it could be under better circumstances, though," said Andy.
"Yeah, us too. I'll be in touch, Cap. We'll probably be back at the station soon. From what Doctor Early figured, Mike could be in surgery for a few hours. I'll see you guys later," said Johnny as he got into the squad.
***
"Okay, Roy, we're ready for you in Room 2. Mrs. Lincoln, you'll be here in emergency for a few minutes then you'll be going up to the burn ward. Thanks, Roy," said Kel Brackett.
"No problem, Doc. You take care, Mrs. Lincoln," Roy said as she was wheeled into the room.
"Thanks. Thank your partner too, okay?" she said.
"You bet."
"Hey, Roy, let's see what we can find out about Mike," said Johnny as he approached. "LA, Squad 51 available from Rampart."
"Squad 51."
"Hi, Dix. Any word yet?" asked Roy.
"Hi, fellahs. Joe's just checking now."
"How's Peggy doing?"
"She's hanging in there, but it's tough on her."
"Right. Thanks, Sally," said Joe as he hung up the receiver.
"Well? What's the word?" asked Johnny.
"I have to talk to Peggy. Come with me," Joe said as he headed toward the lounge.
Peggy rose in alarm as they entered. "Dr. Early, it's only been two hours. Is..." she broke off.
He took her hands in his. "He's still in surgery. They just called down with an update. Sit down," he advised.
"Do you want us to leave, Peggy?" asked Roy.
"No. Stay," she said as she sat down between Sandi and Joanne. "You're family, too."
"Now," began Joe, "the surgery is going well. They've just finished patching a hole in his lung. When that rib was broken, it sort of turned sideways. One end went through the skin and the other tore through the lung tissue. This caused a fair amount of blood and air to gather in the lung cavity, in the space normally filled by the lung. This is called a hemopneumothorax, and it caused the lung to collapse. So, the blood and air have been drained from the space and they're presently reinflating the lung. The splinters from the pole have been removed, and there wasn't much damage to the leg apart from deep bruising and tissue damage. Now, the abdominal injury -- from what they were able to tell initially, it appears the liver has been lacerated. They're going to work on that area right now. The wood slid past two of the broken ribs and severed one of the veins in the liver." Joe shot a warning glance at Roy and Johnny, who looked at each other and said nothing. Joe continued. "That's going to be a bit tricky to fix, but they figure that they'll be able to repair everything within a couple of hours. After he's been sewn up, they'll take care of his shoulder. Now do you have any questions? I know it's a lot to take in at once."
Peggy heaved a shuddering sigh. "Thanks, Doctor. You've explained things pretty well. What... what kind of recovery time are we talking about here?"
"I'm sorry. It's really too soon to tell. We'll know better in a couple of days. He's holding his own right now, so we have every reason to be optimistic. Do you have any other questions?" As she shook her head, he said, "If you need anything, you know where we are, generally."
"Thanks, Dr. Early."
"How are you doing?" asked Joe.
"I'm okay," she said, with her lips quivering. "Firemen's wives are a special breed, right? I mean, every shift you have to wonder if you're going to get "the call". You can't think about it too much ‘cause it will drive you crazy, but it's always there. You learn to live with it because you love your man, and you want him to be happy, and this is the life he wants," Peggy replied shakily.
"Right." "You know it," echoed Sandi and Joanne, with tears in their eyes.
***
As they were in the squad heading back to the station, Johnny voiced the thought they'd been sharing since Joe's report.
"We came that close," he said, gesturing with his thumb and forefinger, "to removing those splinters. If it wasn't for Marco's artistry with a chain saw, Mike would be dead now."
"Yeah, I've been thinking that. Should we tell him?"
Johnny tugged his lip with his fingers and shook his head. "I don't know, Roy. I just don't know."
They pulled into the station and repeated the news to the others.
"Dr. Early said he'd call the station as soon as any news came through," said Roy. "I'll have to give Marcie a call and see if she can stay the night. I don't think Joanne and Sandi want to leave Peggy tonight."
"Johnny," said Hank, "If we hadn't managed to cut those splinters off..."
"Yeah, Cap," he answered with a slow nod.
"Wow. Makes you think, doesn't it? Nice work, Marco," said Chet, clapping him on the shoulder.
Roy came back, saying, "That's all fixed up, then. Marcie can stay until we get off shift or until Joanne goes home. I guess I should call Joanne in about half an hour."
"You're thinking about what Peggy said, aren't you, Roy?" Johnny asked.
"Yeah, Johnny. I mean, Joanne and I have talked about it -- hell, we've fought about it, but it all comes back to one thing. Peggy is absolutely right. I guess I need a reminder now and then about that side of things."
"What's he talking about, John?" asked Hank.
"Well, when Dr. Early gave us the update, Peggy said something about how hard it is to wait for ‘the call' and how it's always in the back of the mind."
Hank nodded. "It's true. Sandi and I have had our fair share of discussions about that, too. She's still with me, though. It's hard on the kids, too. Hey, you guys had better have something to eat. It's been over eight hours since lunch. I know you don't have much of an appetite -- nobody does today -- but at least have some soup or something."
"Right, Cap."
***
It was ten o'clock that night.
"Johnny, would you stop pacing already? We're all worried, but you're wearing a hole in the floor," said Chet. "Sit down and watch the news."
"Hey, guys, that's us," said Marco, as the news showed Ethel lifting the ridgepole. "There's all the circus guys, too, and Station 8."
"It sure looks different than I remember it," said Johnny, as the news showed a closeup of a bloody Mike Stoker being moved to the ambulance.
"I just hope Peggy didn't see that," said Hank. "That's the last thing she needs right now."
***
At ten-thirty, the phone rang. Roy got to it first.
"Station 51. Hi, Doc. What's the news? Yeah...uh, huh. I see. Right. Give Peggy our best wishes. Thanks. Bye."
"Well?"
Roy drew a breath. "He's in the recovery section of the ICU right now. They've managed to repair the damage to his liver and the other internal injuries. They had to completely remove that one rib -- it was so badly shattered. They've relocated his shoulder and set his collarbone. They'll have to wait until he's fully conscious to see if he's suffered a concussion. He's still on a respirator, but they'll try removing him from it once his condition improves. He's listed as critical, but that's to be expected under the circumstances. We'll know better in twelve hours."
"Jeez, four hours in surgery. That's a lot of damage. A lot of work," mused Johnny. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to hit the sack," he announced as he got up, yawned and stretched.
"Sounds good," said Hank. "I want to call my wife first, though. I'm glad the kids are at camp now. I've got a feeling we'll be spending a lot of time with Peg for a while. You want to talk to Joanne, Roy?"
"Yeah. There's a couple of things I need to say."
"I hear you, pal."
***
"Peggy? Are you sure you don't want to go home to rest?" asked Joanne.
"No, thanks. I'd rather just wait in here until he wakes up. I know that won't be for a few hours, but..."
"I understand," said Sandi. "It goes with the territory. We've both been there."
"You girls should go home, though. It's nearly midnight. I'll be fine. I sort of need to be alone right now," said Peggy wearily.
Joanne looked at Sandi and said, "Okay, hon. We're only a phone call away -- any time."
"Thanks, Joanne, Sandi. I don't know how I would have made it without you. Mike's never been seriously injured before," she sniffed, her lower lip trembling.
"We'll see you later, Peg. Take care -- it's all right to cry, you know," said Sandi, giving her a hug.
"And to get really angry," added Joanne.
Peggy looked at them in astonishment, then smiled weakly. "How'd you know? I mean, it seems stupid to get mad when it wasn't anything he could control, but when I think of how close he came to leaving me alone, I..."
"We're old hands at this, remember? It's a perfectly logical reaction, even though it doesn't seem right. Trust me," answered Joanne.
"Remember, call if you want anything," said Sandi as she and Joanne left.
"Thanks."
***
The station klaxon went off, startling everyone out of a fitful sleep. "Squad 51, person down, Night Owl Bar. 1780 Ingleside, 1780 Ingleside, cross street Pelham, time out 0142."
"Squad 51, KMG 365," answered Johnny.
"I couldn't really sleep, anyway," said Roy as they headed to the call.
"Yeah. I keep wondering how Mike's doing."
"Squad 51, LA."
"Squad 51."
"Squad 51, be advised that police have a suspect in custody at the Night Owl bar. An ambulance is on the way."
"10-4, LA," said Johnny.
"Great," muttered Roy, "just what we need. Stabbing or shooting?"
"Do we have a choice? Look, there's Vince," said Johnny.
"Hi, fellas. We got a stabbing victim over here. He's probably too drunk to feel any pain, though," said Vince as he approached their vehicle.
"Thanks. What happened?" asked Roy, as they gathered their equipment.
"From what I can figure, these two had some argument about a girl and it ended up with the ‘outstanding' citizen in custody pulling a knife on our friend over here. He's got a pretty nasty slice in his arm," replied Vince.
"Hey, mister, are you okay?" asked Johnny as he approached a man who was sitting on the ground near the bar.
"Hiya, buddy! I kinda hurt my arm here..." slurred the man.
"What's your name?"
"Bruce. Bruce...Butler, yeah that's it -- Bruce Butler. And who might you be, officer?" he giggled.
"I'm John, this is Roy. We're paramedics with the fire department, We're here to help you."
"Okee dokee. My arm hurts."
"Yes, we know that. I'm just going to examine you the see if you're hurt anywhere else. Roy, can you get a dressing on this arm while I check him out and take his vitals?"
"Hey!" said Bruce in alarm, his uninjured arm dropping to protect his crotch, "You're not taking anything vital from me! That's stealing," he said indignantly.
It was all they could do to keep from bursting out laughing.
"No, what I mean is your ‘vital signs' -- pulse, breathing rate, that sort of thing," said Johnny with a straight face.
"Oh. Okay, then, but watch it, buddy."
"Just let me take a look at that arm, okay?" asked Roy, as he opened the trauma box.
As Roy dressed the arm, Johnny completed his examination.
"Roy, there's no other wounds. Breathing is fine -- rate of 18 and regular. Pulse is 90 and strong. Blood pressure is 124 over 92. Skin is cool, moist and slightly pale."
"Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?" said Roy into the biophone.
"Bruce, how old are you?" asked Johnny.
"Lessee -- I'm twenty-six. Twenty-six? No, no I'm twenny...seven," he announced.
"This is Rampart. Go ahead 51," said Kel Brackett.
"We have a 27 year old male with a stab wound to the left forearm, about four inches long and about half an inch deep. The wound has been dressed. Pulse is 90, strong and regular; respiration is 18 and regular; blood pressure is 124 over 92. Skin is moist, slightly pale and cool. Patient also appears to be intoxicated."
"Hey, man, I'm bleeding!" said Bruce in surprise, and then he fainted.
"Johnny, he's going," warned Roy.
"I got him. Roy, his pulse just went up to 110. Respiration is 20, hang on for b.p."
"Rampart, patient has just passed out. Pulse is now 110, respiration is 20, stand by for b.p."
"Standing by."
"Roy, b.p. is 100 over 70."
"Rampart, b.p. is 100 over 70. The ambulance is here," reported Roy.
"Start an IV of normal saline and transport as soon as possible," advised Kel.
"10-4, Rampart. IV normal saline. ETA is approximately 10 minutes."
"Okay," said Johnny after the IV was in place, "Let's get him loaded -- well, loaded on the ambulance," he said, shrugging his shoulders as Roy groaned at the pun.
***
"Bring him into room 3, Johnny. How's he doing?" asked Kel.
"Flying high, feeling no pain and sleeping it off, no doubt. I think he only fainted because of seeing the blood. How's Mike?" said Johnny.
"Joe's with him now in the ICU. They're going to try taking him off the respirator."
"Do you need us, Doc?" asked Roy.
"No. Go ahead and check on Mike," said Kel with a smile.
"Thanks, Doc," said Johnny. "LA, Squad 51 available."
"Squad 51."
***
Joe was just leaving the ICU with a huge smile on his face as Roy and Johnny approached.
"Hi, fellahs. To get to your questions -- Mike is off the respirator and breathing on his own. He's a bit shaky at this point, but he's being monitored at all times. He's conscious for the moment, but sedated. Peggy's in with him now. Go ahead, but just for a couple of minutes."
"Thanks, Doctor," said Roy with relief.
"How long before he's back at work?" asked Johnny.
"It's way too soon to tell, but given the constitutions of you firefighters, and barring any complications, I figure about six to ten weeks. You guys did a terrific job. Now go check on him so you can get back to the station and get some sleep."
"Right."
Peggy was sitting at Mike's left side, holding his hand and murmuring softly to him. As Roy and Johnny approached, Mike brought her hand to his lips and said something softly, to which she laughed and said, "Let's get you out of here and on your feet, first."
"Peggy?" said Roy tentatively.
"Roy, Johnny! It's great to see you. C'mon over," she said. Her eyes were sparkling, but nothing could completely disguise the strain of the past eight hours. "I'll be back in five minutes, Mike. I'm just going to get a coffee." She kissed him, and smiles as she quietly left.
"How are you feeling, Mike?" they asked in unison.
"Like I've been flattened...by an ...elephant. I did see...an elephant, right?" he asked weakly.
"You sure did. Her name's Ethel. She makes a great crane," said Johnny.
"What was...the total damage here? Peg won't say...I feel...black and blue...from head to toe."
"Pretty close. You'd have to ask the doctors for a total list of the damages, but you managed to survive our wonderful field care," joked Roy.
"Thanks, guys. I'm sleepy. Where's Peg?"
"Right here, lover," she said from behind Johnny and Roy.
"We've got to get back to the station. See you later, Mike," said Roy.
"Yeah, take it easy, Mike," said Johnny as they left.
"Back in a sec, Mike," said Peggy as she joined Johnny and Roy.
"Thank you both so much. If you hadn't been there..." she broke off.
"Yeah, we know. We're glad, too," said Roy, putting his arm around her shoulders. She leaned wearily against him.
"We'll see you later today, Peggy. See if you can get some sleep, too," advised Johnny.
"I'll try, but I'm too keyed up right now. Thanks again, guys."
***
"Six to ten weeks, huh? That's a lot better than I figured last evening. We could have lost him yesterday. Did you know that Bruno's got some of his people policing the fire lanes at the shopping centre? He said he'll always make sure that the fire lanes and hydrants are clear. He also got rid of his fire-eater," said Hank over morning coffee.
"Hey, Andy," said Chet. "I sure hope you've got a good culinary background. You've been elected chief cook."
"I don't think you'll really want that," said Andy, shaking his head. "My repertoire is pretty limited. Tell you what -- if you can stand my cooking for, say, three shifts, I'll do it until Mike gets back. You'd better build yourself an iron stomach, though. I like to use a lot of spices."
"Howdy, folks!" said Cliff Russell as he arrived to start his shift. "‘B shift' is here to make the county safe from you terrors. How's my good friend Mikey doing?"
"He's been upgraded to serious condition. If all goes well, he should be back in six to ten weeks," said Roy.
"Great. I'll go see him after my shift's finished. How's Peg holding up?" asked Cliff.
"I think they finally got her to sleep a couple of hours ago. Sandi's with her now. Our kids are off at camp for another two weeks, so we'll be able to spend as much time with her as she needs. I assume that you're all going to the hospital?" asked Hank. As he received the confirming nods, he stretched and said, "See you there, then. Hey, Cliff, try not to break the engine. You know how angry they get at the repair shop."
"Jeez, one little accident, ten years ago, and they never let you forget! Get out of here, Hank, it's our turn now. Have a good day." Cliff laughed as the men from ‘A shift' left. "Okay, crew, here's the drill for today...."
Return to the Trauma Center | Return to Logbook