A Man and His Pen

by Bettina Rezori

"You're going to . . . what?? Is he alright in the head, Roy?"

"No comment."

"Chet, you don't understand a thing about what I'm saying, right?"

"Johnny, that's nothing special, man. Nobody understands about 90% you're saying, anyway."

"Oh, and what about the last 10%, Chester B.?"

"Easy, Gage. Those are the 10% medical talk that Brackett and Roy understand. At least I hope so, for the sake of your victims."

"Oh, cut it out, Kelly! What's so bad about -?"

Suddenly, Johnny stopped in mid-sentence.  Frantically, his hands began patting down his pockets. Roy looked up from the newspaper he had been engrossed in, disturbed by the sudden silence in the room.

"What's wrong, Junior?"

"Oh, man! Dammit!!"

"What's going on?"

"My pen is gone!"

"All the fuss because your pen is gone?" Chet asked incredulously. "That cheap green one? For Christ's sake, Gage, get a grip. There are other pens."

"What does it look like, pal?" Captain Stanley cut in.

"It is the green one I always use, I -"

Squad 51, man down at Kennedy Gymnasium, 5-6-1 Carson Avenue, 5-6-1 Carson Ave. Time-out: 8.34.

Within minutes the paramedics reached the gym, which turned out to be a rather small one. Roy and Johnny grabbed their equipment from the squad's compartments and went over to a bunch of beckoning teenagers.

"Good thing you guys are here. We were practising basketball, and Matt twisted his knee real bad."

Together, they joined the rest of the team on the court. Roy set down the biophone next to the young man on the ground.

"Hi, my name is Roy DeSoto. I'm a paramedic with the L.A. County Fire Department." Pointing to Johnny, he added, "And that's my partner John Gage. How are you doing?"

"I kind of busted up my knee, I think."

"Let's see." Roy gently palpated the injured joint, causing the teenager to gasp with pain. "I'm sorry, Matt, but I have to do this. Don't worry, it probably looks worse than it is."

Meanwhile, Johnny set up the biophone. ""Rampart, this is Squad 51."

"This is Rampart, what have you got, 51?"

"Rampart, we have a - how old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"- a seventeen year-old male with an injury to his right knee. Joint shows considerable swelling and is very sensitive to minor pressure. Patient has twisted it while playing basketball. Vitals to follow."

While the paramedics took a baseline set of vital signs, the coach gathered his players, who constituted a narrow circle around their team-mate and the firemen. "Come on, people, let's give these two guys some room to work. Get over two the other side and practice some fast passes and baskets." Reluctantly, the boys complied.

" . . ., pulse is 74."

"Alright, 51, apply cooling pack and immobilize the leg. Transport as soon as ambulance is on scene."

"Copy, Rampart. Apply instant icepack and immobilize . . . ugh!"

"Repeat last transmission, 51!" Brackett's astonished voice drifted out of the receiver, which clattered to the ground out of suddenly limp fingers.

The basketball having hit John Gage squarely on the back of the head rolled harmlessly away as the paramedic toppled over.

"Johnny!!" Years of experience enabled Roy to react fast enough to prevent his partner from crushing their patient's already battered knee. He grabbed him by the shoulders and carefully manoeuvred him to the ground, almost simultaneously reaching for the biophone.

"Rampart, I got a second victim, hit in the head by-"

"Aw, come on, Roy, I'm neither a victim nor a patient, just got knocked off balance for a sec."

Johnny slowly pushed himself up to his elbows.

"Easy, Junior. Take it slowly."

"51, what is the victim's state of consciousness?"

"Be advised that victim is John Gage. He is quite clearly conscious and back to his usual agitated self."

"Alright, 51, get me a set of vitals, anyway."

"10-4, Rampart. Please repeat orders for victim one."

"Icepack and immobilization."

"10-4."

After some persuasion, Johnny was convinced to let Roy take his pulse, respirations and blood pressure.  It was then decided that the senior paramedic would take the squad in.

***
"So, guys, how's it going today?"

"Oh, well. Pretty much routine, actually, Dix. Johnny and Chet at each other's throats worse than my kids, the occasional call, Johnny about to see Doctor Brackett…"

"Did I hear my name?"

"Doc, you have a knack for popping up when people are talking about you, don't you?"

"Well, Johnny, I could have sworn you were the topic of the conversation. Come along, I want to take a look at your head."

"I'm fine, Doc. No dizziness, no nausea, just a bit of a headache. Oh, before I forget it, have I left my green pen here somewhere? Dix, please tell me I left it here on the counter yesterday."

"I can't recall a green pen lying around. But I'll keep looking. You - treatment room."

"Alright, alright. But keep your eyes open, you see what happens to me when I can't find it. It's really important that I get it back."

"You know, Johnny," Brackett said, "counting the times the words 'I'm fine, Doc' slip out of your mouth it is amazing how often you end up in one of our beds for the night."

When the door closed behind Brackett and Johnny, Roy exchanged a meaningful glance with the head nurse. "He never ceases to amaze me, you know, Dix?"

"That's Johnny Gage for you. What's that about his pen? He seemed really upset."

"I have no idea. Knowing my partner, it's probably some good luck charm to him. Oh, boy! I hope he doesn't tell himself that everything goes wrong today. Remember when he forgot to give his Smokey-the-Bear poster his good-morning tap on the nose?"

"Yes, that day surely holds the John-Gage-record for code Is."

***

"So," Roy spoke up while he keyed the squad's ignition, "you feeling okay?"

"Brackett cleared me for duty, right?"

"That doesn't answer my question."

"So I do have a little headache. Nothing a few aspirins won't cure."

"Surely you'd tell me in case you develop any symptoms."

"Roy, I told you I'm fine. It was just a basketball!"

"I know it was just a basketball, but in your case I believe even a ping-pong ball could be dangerous." Roy said, trying hard to suppress a smile. His eyes gave him away, though.

"Oh, he's funny today, a regular comedian. But, seriously, if I don't get my pen back I can't be held accountable for anything that might happen today."

Roy eventually parked the squad in the engine bay, and Johnny's fingers were already at the door handle when he felt Roy's hand on his arm. "What's up, Roy?"

"What's so important about that green pen?" he asked, the look in his eyes conveying understanding and sympathy. "It seems very important to you."

"You could say that."

When Johnny didn't offer anything else, Roy prompted: "And?"

With a sigh Johnny leaned against the still-closed door. "Alright. You know, when we were still in paramedic class I spent an evening with an old friend of mine, Shirley Lane. We were eating at a Mexican restaurant, and suddenly she started choking. . .

. . . " Shirley, what's wrong?"

"Don't . . . know . . . C . . can't breathe!"

Johnny leaped up from his seat and, remembering the Heimlich manoeuvre Brackett had told them about only a few lessons ago, grabbed her around the waist from behind. Though only a minute had passed Shirley's face had turned red by now and she couldn't speak. Johnny realized with growing panic that she was still unable to get any air into her lungs; if anything had been stuck in her throat the Heimlich manoeuvre would have brought it up. No use . . . No use . . . Dammit! What now??

"I tried rescue breathing, but her throat was totally swollen shut. The only thing that shot through my mind was: 'Oh God, I have to do a tracheotomy!' Remember the time Brackett told us how to do it but pretty clearly warned us that even as certified paramedics we would never be allowed to perform it without a doctor's specific order?"

Roy raised his eyebrows when he thought about the chief surgeon's well known temperament. "Oh yeah, I remember! He made himself extremely clear."

"Well, anyhow, I didn't know what else to do, Shirley's lips had turned blue by then. So I shouted for a sharp knife and something hollow."

"You never told me about that." Roy stated.

"At the time, we didn't know each other very well. And after all, I was totally out of my limit. If Brackett got wind of this he would have kicked me out of the program fast enough to make my head spin. Anyway, so there I knelt on the ground, knife in one hand, when some waiter appeared beside me, handed me this green pen, and said: "Will this do?"  I didn't say anything and just took it. I guess I was too busy trying to gain control over my trembling hand."

For a moment silence filled the squad. Finally Roy said: "I take it your friend survived your surgical skills, otherwise you wouldn't have kept the pen."

Johnny met his partner's gaze and slowly nodded. "Yes, she recovered just fine. The emergency ambulance finally showed up with a doctor. He replaced the pen with a tube and connected an ambu-bag to it. The pen was thrown to the floor, and I remember picking it up. I was more of a subconscious action than an intended movement. Thank God we were not in Rampart's territory. They brought her to Bay General, far away from Brackett's wrath.  You see, that green pen saved my friend's life. I've kept it with me ever since."

"Johnny, you saved your friend's life. I'm sure you'll find your pen. But if, in any case, it shouldn't turn up, please do me the favor and don't succumb to superstition. Nothing will change in life's events, the difference is just in your head. And that is something you can control. Don't forget that."

The two men sat there for a few more moments, then resumed their daily chores.

***
"Mornin', Roy!"

"Good morning, Junior, you sure seem to be in a helluva mood considering the time." Roy said matter-of-factly, taking a look at his watch.

"You can be sure about that, Pally. Look what I got here!"

"Hey, your pen is back. Where did you find it?"

Johnny sat down on the bench. "Actually, it was at my laundromat when it turned up. Old Mrs Walker said I left it in my uniform. Man, I'm glad that pen is back. Somehow I didn't feel right without it."

Roy finished buttoning his uniform shirt and turned towards the door. "So, everything back to normal, Junior?"

A loud SPLASH with an even louder "AHH CHET, I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS!!" answered his question quite sufficiently.

Shaking his head, Roy DeSoto left the locker-room in search of a strong coffee in order to up with his partner for another long shift.


Author's note: I hope you had as much fun reading this little challenge entry as I had writing it. If there's anything that sounds a little fishy it's probably because I've never seen an English E! episode. For that matter, be advised (I just love that expression) that I am not a native speaker, but only a 21 year-old med-student from Germany. Comments are very welcome! (Bettina.I.Rezori@med.uni-giessen.de)