Rainy Days and Mondays by Nancy, the Nifty Lady * * * * * * * * * E! * * * * * * * * * Spring time of 1974 in southern California brought an onslaught of rain showers. The Los Angeles river filled its concrete conduits and flooded low-lying intersections. Despite the best efforts of the police and the public safety departments of both the county and the city of Los Angeles to block off dangerous intersection, numerous motorists stalled out in the deceptively deep pools of swift currents. The fire department was constantly being called out to rescue drivers that had become trapped by the rising waters. The men of Los Angeles County Fire Station 51 had been summoned that Monday midmorning to the intersection of Wayland Avenue and West Johns Road. Firefighter/Paramedic Roy DeSoto parked the rescue squad a safe distance from the water's edge. Firefighter Specialist Mike Stoker brought the fire engine to a stop beside the smaller vehicle. Captain Hank Stanley swung down to the pavement and surveyed the area. A light blue sedan sat in the middle of the intersection with water swirling around it, high enough to prevent the female driver from opening the door and effectively trapping her inside the vehicle. The continuous rain was only adding to make a bad situation worse. Firefighter/Paramedic John "Johnny" Gage, tightened the chin strap on his helmet and double checked the clasps of his turnout coat as he ventured from the passenger side of the squad to join his partner Roy and the Captain in assessing the best approach to the rescue. "What do you think Roy?" Captain Stanley asked the senior member of the paramedic team. Roy squinted through the pelting rain at the car. "I think we're going to have to tie the car off before we try to get her out of it. At the rate that water is rising, it's not going to be long before the car is either flooded or starts floating. We're going to need someone on the other side of the intersection to set up the safety lines." "I agree. Chet!" Stanley yelled for Fireman Chester B. Kelly. The stocky Irishman, left the safety of his jump seat and joined his fellow shift mates. "Yeah, Cap?" "Take the squad and circle around to the other side of this intersection. We're going to set up safety lines between the engine and the squad." "Got it," Chet headed for the small truck. Johnny and Roy went with him to pull out their safety equipment that they would need as well as their medical supplies for after the rescue. Chet took off in the vehicle as soon as they had what they needed. Both firemen strapped on their safety belts and prepared the ropes for the rescue. "Help me, please!" the woman cried from her car. They could barely hear her above the roar of the rain and the water. Hank climbed back into the cab of the engine and keyed the mike on the PA. "Just stay calm, ma'am. My men will be out to get you in a few minutes." Once Kelly pulled the squad to the opposite side of the intersection, the firefighters prepared to set the safety lines between the two vehicles. Marco Lopez, the other member of the engine crew, shot the line across the intersection. Soon the ropes were secured and the paramedics began their rescue. The water felt icy as the two rescuers entered the murky intersection. The current was strong as they made their way to the stranded car along the taut safety lines. They both shivered with bone chilling coldness as the water seeped into their turnouts. They finally reached the driver's door. The driver, a woman of about thirty years old, was obviously terrified. Johnny, using his Gage charm, attempted to calm her down as he explained what they were doing in order to rescue her. "Hi there! My name's Johnny, and that fellow tying the rope to your bumper back there is my partner, Roy. What's your name?" "La . . . Laverne," she stammered. The water effectively prevented the door from being opened. "Okay Laverne. We're going to get you out of here. The water pressure won't let me open your door so I need you to roll the window down. Can you do that?" "I think so." Slowly, Laverne rolled the window down. "Good. You're doing fine. I have a safety belt here that I need you to put around your waist. Then, I'll help you come out through the window. Okay?" "Okay," Laverne responded nervously. While Johnny made sure the belt was attached to the woman's waist; Roy was securing a line to the car. The water was still rising. With Johnny's help, Laverne made it through the open window. She involuntarily screamed as the water soaked through the rest of her clothing as she clung desperately to the dark-haired paramedic. "You're doing fine Laverne. That's it . . . nice and steady. I'm right here. Don't be nervous. Stay right behind Roy," Johnny encouraged the frightened woman as the trio slowly made their way back to the engine and the safety of "dry" land. Marco had a blanket to cover the young woman once she was released from the safety harness. He then helped her to sit on the running board at the back of the engine. "We're just going to check you out here," Roy explained as he pulled out the BP cuff and stethoscope. "Okay," the woman shivered, her teeth chattering. Johnny set up the biophone on the seat of the engine out of the rain and contacted Rampart hospital. "Rampart. This is county 51. How do you read?" Head nurse Dixie McCall responded to the base station summons next to the nurse's station in the busy ER of Rampart General Hospital. "Read you loud and clear 51. Go ahead." "Rampart. We have a female victim of about thirty years of age. She was trapped in a flooded vehicle. Stand by for vitals." "Standing by." Dixie readied a pad for the vitals that she knew would follow and paged a doctor to the base station. Johnny removed his green pen from his shirt pocket and took the notebook out to write down the vitals as Roy relayed them to him. "Uh Rampart. The victim doesn't appear to be injured. Just scared," he advised the nurse while he waited for the stats. "Go ahead with the vitals 51," Dixie instructed. Johnny passed along their findings to the hospital. As he was relayed, the information Doctor Joe Early joined Dixie at the base station. He looked over Dixie's notes and then keyed the mic. "51, this is Dr. Early. Advise the victim to see her family physician if she experiences any discomfort." "10-4 Rampart." Dr. Early smiled at the nurse. Every now and then it was nice to not have to deal with a medical emergency. Dixie smiled back as they resumed their duties. Back at the rescue, a police officer took over from the paramedics to get information from their victim for his report as the men of Station 51 cleaned up the site. A tow truck arrived to pull the flooded car out of the water. Before long, the firemen were able to return to the station and get out of the chilling rain. Both Johnny and Roy were soaking wet from the rescue and hit the showers as soon as they could. It was Marco's day to cook so he headed for the kitchen to begin preparing lunch. Thirty minutes later, the two paramedics were dressed in fresh, dry uniforms. Johnny didn't have a dry pair of boots to wear so he had to put his wet ones back on. His feet squished as he walked into the day room. "Geez Gage. Can't you hold it down?" Chet chided the paramedic. "Shut up, Kelly!" Johnny retorted as he poured himself a cup of hot coffee. "Oh. Snappy comeback Gage." "Would you . . . " Johnny started saying when Marco cut him off. "Knock it off guys," Marco ordered tersely. "What's with you?" Chet asked of his coworker, surprised Marco's tone. "Nothing!" Marco snapped. He studied his recipe card harder than he needed to. Johnny gave the Hispanic firefighter a wide berth as he moved over to the leather sofa on the other side of the day room. As soon as he sat down, Henry, the station mascot, moved from the far side of the sofa next to the dark-haired paramedic and plopped his head in Johnny's lap. "Hey Henry." Johnny murmured fondly as he scratched the Basset hound's ears. Chet was still studying Marco from his place at the table, trying to figure out why his friend was so grumpy. "What is it, pal?" he asked Marco again. Marco glared over at Kelly before turning his back on him. "I don't want to talk about it, Chet!" "Talk about what?" Roy asked innocently as entered the kitchen area in search of fresh coffee. "He doesn't want to talk about it," Chet explained to the perplexed paramedic. "Who?" "Marco." Roy looked over at Marco who was busily chopping onions for the dish he was about to prepare. Marco looked at Roy, his frustration apparent in his demeanor. Roy looked back at Chet. "If he doesn't want to talk about it, then leave him alone," Roy advised. He tipped his cup to Marco and then made his way over to the television set, turning it onto the local noon news. Mike entered the room and sat in a chair next to Roy's and joined him in watching the TV. It was quiet in the day room except for the noise coming from the television set, the chopping from the kitchen area, and the sound of the rain on the roof. Soon the aroma of onions sauteing in the pan filled the room. "Man! That smells good!" Johnny commented as the dish took shape as Marco added various ingredients to the mix. "Thanks Johnny," Marco responded appreciatively. Despite feeling out of sorts, the man enjoyed cooking for his coworkers and creating savory dishes was rewarding. Today, he was preparing a goulash type dish. He knew that it would be satisfying on a day like today and that the goulash would only improve with time if they got called out. Marco knew that, on a rainy day like today, getting called out was more likely to happen than not to happen. "Lunch!" Marco finally announced. Mike alerted Cap to the meal's readiness and the six men sat down at the table. "Marco, pal, you've outdone yourself," Cap complimented the fireman as he savored a mouthful of the goulash. "Thanks Cap." "Yeah. This is great. You'll have to give me the recipe so I can pass it on to JoAnne," Johnny agreed. Roy's head snapped up at the mention of his wife's name. "What are you up to Junior?" he asked suspiciously as he eyed his partner. "Me? Nothing," Johnny responded as he splayed his hand over his heart. "Then why do you want to give the recipe to my wife?" "Because your wife is a good cook and I know she would appreciate having something different to fix for her tired husband and his best friend," Johnny explained through a mouthful of the dish. "Gage! Close your mouth, would ya!" Chet complained. Johnny smirked at his coworker. "Listen, Johnny! You got me enough trouble over Mike's spaghetti." "Correction! I got you out of trouble, Pally!" "No way Junior!" Roy argued back, trying to sound stern but not succeeding. The others just chuckled at their exchange. "Say Johnny," Mike interjected. "What Mike?" "How come you call Roy 'Pally' and he calls you 'Junior'?" "Yeah Gage," Chet chimed in. "I've always been curious about that myself." "Well, Junior is obvious," Cap injected. The men turned to look at their captain for his explanation. "How so, Cap?" Chet asked. "John Roderick Gage. J. R. Gage. Everyone knows JR is the abbreviation for junior. Besides that, Roy's the senior partner. So, that would make Johnny the 'junior' partner," Hank explained, leaning back smugly in his chair. The men turned their gaze on Johnny and Roy to see if their captain was right. Johnny shook his head. "Sorry Cap. As logical that sounds, that isn't why," Johnny informed his captain and the others. "So what's the reason?" Chet demanded . Before Johnny could respond, the klaxon sounded, sending the engine crew into the rainy afternoon. Roy and Johnny relaxed as the sound of Big Red's sirens faded in the distance. "You think we should tell them the story?" Roy asked his partner. "Oh eventually," Johnny grinned. Roy returned his partner's grin with one of his own. * * * * * * * * * E! * * * * * * * * * The pouring rain kept the men of A-shift running the rest of the afternoon. The gray clouds created an early sunset. It was only four-thirty but the sky was so dark it could have been midnight for all anyone could tell. "Squad 51," Sam Lanier's voice summoned. "Woman down. 1456 Franklin Street. One-four-five-six Franklin Street. Apartment 1-A. Cross street Payne Drive. Time out 16:43." Roy acknowledged the call as Johnny opened the bay doors. In unison they donned their turnout coats and together, they jumped into the squad. Both men placed their helmets on their heads before Roy pulled the squad out into the rain, emergency lights flashing and sirens blaring. The heavy rain and darkness, coupled with the afternoon rush hour, made their path to the address slower than either paramedic would have liked. "Squad 51. What's your ETA?" Dispatch inquired. Johnny checked his watch and lifted the mic. "LA. This is Squad 51. Our ETA is about five minutes." "10-4 Squad 51. Informant is concerned the victim is suffering a heart attack." "LA? Could you respond an engine crew to our incident?" Johnny requested. Often more hands are needed when dealing with a heart attack victim. "10-4 Squad 51." The two paramedics listened to the tones as Engine 51 was directed to their rescue. Johnny grinned at this partner. It was good that their crew would be responding with them. The men of their shift worked together like a well-oiled machine. Five minutes later, Roy pulled the squad to the curb, parking at a slight angle. Johnny jumped out onto the curb and began opening the compartment doors to remove their equipment. Roy checked his side mirror and then opened his door. He placed his left foot on the road, turning his body outward. He had just placed his right hand on the door frame when he felt, rather than heard the oncoming vehicle. There was no time to react as the pickup truck clipped the open door with its passenger side fender. The impact tore the door from Roy's grasp, spinning him into the passing truck bed. The blonde paramedic bounced off the truck and crashed into the side of the squad. His helmet flew off as the injured man was dropped like a rag doll to the wet pavement. * * * * * * * * * E! * * * * * * * * * From the passenger side of the squad, Johnny could only hear the earsplitting sound of tearing metal from the collision and watch the shuddering of their vehicle, followed by the sickening thud of Roy's body hitting the pavement. Leaving the equipment tossed to the ground, Johnny rushed around the back of the squad in time to see the pickup truck brake briefly before taking off down the street. The pickup truck was forgotten as the younger man ran to his unconscious partner. "Roy?" he called anxiously to his friend and felt a wave of panic as his partner didn't respond. "Is he okay?" an anxious voice asked from the curb. Johnny looked up to see an elderly man, holding an umbrella over his head, staring at the paramedics. "No sir. He's badly hurt. Could you call the fire department for me?" "I can but aren't you here for my Ella?" he asked uncertainly. Johnny was checking Roy for injuries and had to stop to look at the man again. "Pardon?" Johnny felt confused for a moment. "My wife. I think she's having a heart attack," the man explained. "Of course. Sir, more help is on its way but I can't leave him alone in the street here. I need to treat my partner . . . " Johnny's explanation was interrupted by the passing of another car. Instinctively, Johnny guarded Roy's unmoving form. Fear gripped the paramedic as he realized how dangerous the predicament that his partner was in lying in the street. "But what about Ella?" the man whined. "Please sir! Call the police and tell them we've been involved in a hit and run! That we have an injured man!" Johnny ordered as he stood guard over Roy's body, watching for oncoming traffic. He was torn emotionally. The squad's mic was only a few feet away but he didn't dare leave Roy's side. The man hesitated a moment, unsure what to do before turning and hurrying back to his apartment as quickly as his arthritic joints would carry him. Johnny continued to watch for traffic so he could protect his friend. Soon he could hear the distant wail of Engine 51's siren. He offered a silent prayer to the spirits and then knelt beside Roy. "Hang in there, Pally. Help's on the way," he whispered. His frustration mounted as he couldn't begin to treat Roy until the engine arrived. Finally the big rig pulled onto the scene. He could see the disbelief in Hank and Mike's faces as they took in the scene. He was grateful when Mike pulled the engine across the traffic lanes to prevent anyone from driving onto the scene from that direction. Hank swung down from his seat and ran to Johnny's side. "What in the world happened here, Gage?" he asked hoarsely and he knelt down to check on Roy's condition. "Hit and run. I was on the other side of the squad so I'm not completely sure what happened. But right now, we've got to block off the street from any other cars coming through here. Moreover, the woman inside might be having a heart attack. Apartment 1-A." "I'll call it in," Hank assured him. He turned and yelled. "Chet! Marco!" The two firemen reached the pavement and were stunned by the scene before them and rushed over. "My god! What happened?" Chet asked. Marco silently made the sign of the cross and looked to his captain for instructions. "Marco. Go to apartment 1-A and check on the woman's condition. Chet. Get the equipment for Johnny." The three firefighters took off to accomplish their assigned tasks. Hank called dispatch to inform them of the Code I and to request a second squad, police, and another ambulance. He was informed that additional units were already on their way. As if by magic, a police car came to a stop from the opposite direction. Vince Howard climbed out of his patrol car. He quickly crossed to Johnny as he administered to Roy. "What happened, Johnny?" Vince pressed the paramedic as his trained eye surveyed the accident scene. "That bastard hit him and kept going!" Johnny snapped angrily. "What was he driving?" Vince's voice remained professionally calm. "A dark colored pickup. I only saw it briefly." "Anything I can do to help?" Vince asked as he watched Johnny cut away Roy's turnout coat. The rain continued to pelt the men. "Just find the s.o.b. that did this!" Johnny scrubbed the rain from his face as the water mixed with the blood on Roy's shirt from the one-inch gash on his chin. He began to cut away his partner's uniform shirt. Chet had the biophone ready for transmission. "I'll do my best!" the officer promised. He left the paramedics and jogged back to his patrol car and called in the brief description that Johnny had given him. He doubted that they'd have much luck in locating the truck. "County 51? Do you have any vitals?" Dr. Kelly Brackett's voice inquired over the biophone. "Stand by, Rampart," Chet informed the hospital. Squad 116 arrived. Paramedics Jeff Gordon and Larry Young hurried to the accident scene. "DeSoto?" Young whispered as he realized who the victim was. "What do you need Gage?" he asked as his paramedic mode kicked in. "We've got a woman in apartment 1-A that may be having a heart attack. Lopez is inside with her. I can handle Roy if you guys can look after her," Johnny explained rapidly as he continued to examine his partner. "You've got it. Come on, Jeff," the other paramedic grabbed his partner and they took their equipment off into the apartment. "Rampart. We have a hit-and-run accident victim. The victim is a twenty-nine-year-old male. He is comatose with what appears to be a blow to the back of his head. There are contusions on the upper body. There is a one-inch cut on his chin. The right shoulder appears dislocated. The left femur is broken and the left ankle is swollen. Rampart, be advised that the victim is Roy DeSoto. Stand by for vitals." "Standing by," Dr. Brackett keyed the mic in the base station. The doctor looked over at Dixie, the worry over their friend evident on his face. Waiting was hardest part of the job. Johnny's voice relayed Roy's vitals over the radio in the base station. "Rampart, victim's BP is 90 over 70. Respirations are 20. Pulse is weak and thready. Pupils are sluggish." "10-4 County 51. Administer an IV, D5W, TKO. Immobilize the shoulder and splint the leg and ankle. Is the ambulance there?" "IV, D52, TKO. Immobilize shoulder and splint leg and ankle," Johnny repeated back the information. "No ambulance yet Rampart." "Transport as soon as possible," Brackett instructed as Dr. Mike Morton entered the base station to deal with the heart patient that Paramedics Gordon and Young were treating. Brackett and Dixie moved out to the nurse's station. "Dix. Prepare treatment two for Roy's arrival. I want the portable x-ray unit standing by," Kel ordered. "I'll get it ready," Dixie assured the doctor. "I'm going to call JoAnne first. Perhaps she can get here by the time Roy does." Brackett nodded in agreement. "Good idea. I can only imagine Captain Stanley is a bit too busy to contact her." "Yeah. I think you're right," Dixie agreed. She reached for the Rolodex and looked up the DeSoto's home number and began to dial. * * * * * * * * * E! * * * * * * * * * Johnny hovered over Roy's conscious body as the ambulance rushed through the rain and evening traffic. The travel time to the hospital seemed interminable. How many times had Johnny checked Roy's IV and his blood pressure? "Well Pally. The tables are turned this time, aren't they?" the younger paramedic spoke softly. If he hoped Roy would open his eyes and say something, he was disappointed. He stared out the window and watched the passing landscape. Looking back at his friend, he was reminded of Mike Stoker's earlier question about their nicknames for each other. "Come on, Roy. Wake up. I want you to be there when we tell them." The ambulance arrived at the hospital and backed up to the ER entrance. As the double doors swung open, the ambulance attendants pulled Roy's gurney from the back. They were met by Dixie and a couple of orderlies as Johnny followed the gurney into the ER. The entourage hurried down the corridor to treatment room two. With practiced expertise, Roy was transferred to the exam table. A beehive of activity ensued as each member of the hospital team began to care for the injured paramedic. Johnny reluctantly left with the staff as the portable x-ray machine entered to do their job. He stood dejectedly at the nurse's station, fingering the handi-talkie in his hand. His turnout coat hung open, still dripping water. A nurse passed by, giving him a disapproving glare at the mess he was creating. He glanced down at the floor and sighed heavily. Mike Morton left the base station at that moment. "Problem Gage?" he asked sincerely. Johnny shook his head. "Too much rain." "I hear ya. How's Roy doing?" the doctor asked. "They're doing the x-rays now. Brackett seems optimistic." "That's good." Johnny remembered their initial call. "How's the lady with the heart problem?" "116s is coming in with her now." "Is she gonna be okay?" "Her vitals look good. They're bringing her in as a precaution." He nodded silently and rapped the counter top with his knuckles. "Johnny!" JoAnne DeSoto called out when she spotted her husband's partner. Johnny turned in the direction of her voice. The brunette hurried toward him and he met her, pulling her into a hug. "How is he?" she asked fearfully. "I think he'll be okay," Johnny told her honestly. "Where . . . where is he?" "In the treatment room. Dr. Brackett's with him now." "When can I see him?" "I don't know. Soon, I hope." As if on cue, the aforementioned doctor exited the treatment room. "JoAnne!" he exclaimed, surprised to see her already there. "Dr. Brackett? How is he?" She crossed quickly to the doctor, followed by Gage. Brackett's cheek twitched nervously as he looked from the anxious woman to an equally concerned paramedic. "Roy's suffered a concussion, a dislocated right shoulder, a broken left leg, and a sprained ankle, along with an assortment of cuts and contusions." "He's going to be okay, isn't he?" "I'm hopeful that he'll make a complete recovery. Orthopedics will be setting his leg soon. Then we'll move him into a room." "There's something you're not telling me," JoAnne surmised. "JoAnne, Roy's still unconscious." "Is that serious?" "It could be. The next twenty-four hours will be critical." JoAnne swayed unsteadily and Johnny stepped in to support her. "Now don't panic JoAnne. We're hopeful that he'll regain consciousness soon." The doctor turned to Johnny. "Why don't you take JoAnne down to the lounge? We'll let you know when Roy's ready to go to his room." "Sure thing, doc. Come on, Jo," Johnny urged as he led her down the hall. He fixed coffee for JoAnne and himself and then they waited. A about ten minutes later, Captain Stanley stuck his head through the door. "Oh! Here you are! How's Roy doing?" he asked as he entered. Johnny filled him in on Roy's condition. "How are you doing, JoAnne? Do you want me to call Em?" the Captain offered. "No. No, thank you, Hank. I'm fine. Or at least I will be once I can see Roy." "Okay, if you're sure." "I am. Thank you." "Well, JoAnne, I hate to leave you alone like this, but Roy's replacement is on his way in and I need to get Johnny back to the station," Hank apologized. "I understand," JoAnne sniffled. "Call us, anytime, if there's any change in this condition," the captain requested. "I will. Thanks, Hank. I appreciate that." "Tell Roy we're all pulling for him." "I will." "We'd better head back to the station, John." "Right, Cap." Johnny hated the thought of leaving his partner's side but he still had a job to do. They left JoAnne alone in the lounge as they headed down the hall to the exit. "What are they doing about the squad?" the paramedic asked his captain as they walked along. "The motor pool is sending over another squad. It should be there by the time we get back to the station." Johnny nodded. Charlie was probably flipping out over the damage to their squad. The department's chief mechanic was overly attached to "his" trucks. "Who'd done you get to fill in for Roy?" Johnny asked as they neared the exit. Hank hesitated slightly before answering. "Craig Brice," the captain finally responded. Johnny stopped in his tracks and stared at his superior's back. "You're kidding? Right?" he asked hopefully. Hank turned slightly and looked at his paramedic. "A sorry pal. He was the only one available on such short notice." "Awe man!" Johnny complained. Working with Craig Brice, the "walking rule book" was a major pain in the butt. Stanley could only chuckle at Johnny's distress. * * * * * * * * * E! * * * * * * * * * The next morning, Johnny rushed to change into his street clothes so he could get to the hospital to check on Roy. JoAnne had called that morning to inform the men that there had been no change during the night. He was appreciative of the short distance between the station and the hospital as he maneuvered the remnants of the morning rush hour. The skies remained overcast but at least the rain had stopped. In a matter of minutes, Johnny was in the elevator and on his way to Roy's room. He rapped lightly on the door before opening it. JoAnne rose to her feet as he entered. "Hey, JoAnne. How is he?" JoAnne shook her head sadly. "No change," she replied as she gently took Roy's hand in hers. Johnny pursed his lips. This was not good news. JoAnne looked dead on her feet and Johnny crossed to her side. "You okay, Jo? You look really beat. Did you get any sleep last night?" he asked with concern. "Not really. I dozed off a few times," JoAnne admitted as she stifled a yawn. "Look. Why don't you go home and rest for a spell? I'll stay with Roy until you get back," Johnny suggested. JoAnne looked at Johnny, uncertain. She was tired but she hated the thought of leaving. "I'll call you if . . . no, when he wakes up," Johnny promised sincerely. "I don't know . . . " she wavered with indecision. "You know, Brackett will take one look at you and send you packing," Johnny pointed out. JoAnne touched her hair self-consciously. "Do I look that bad?" she asked tentatively. "No. Just very tired," he responded kindly. Johnny took JoAnne's arms with his hands and looked her in the eyes. "Jo. You can't do anything here that you can't do at home, except sleep in your own bed. You've been here all night and you're tired. Besides, the kids will want to hear from you how Roy is." "I guess you're right. I could use a nap," JoAnne finally conceded. "Yes. I think that's exactly what you need." Both Johnny and JoAnne turned to look at Dr. Brackett in the doorway. He entered the room with Roy's chart in his hand. "I was just trying to convince her of that," Johnny told the doctor. "JoAnne, you know we're doing everything possible." "I know, Dr. Brackett." "Then go home and get some rest," Brackett ordered. "Yes, doctor," JoAnne promised. "Now both of you, get out of here while I do my exam." Reluctantly, JoAnne and Johnny left the room. He walked her to the elevator. "He'll be okay, JoAnne. He just has to be," Johnny said with determination. "I hope so, Johnny," JoAnne said hopefully. The elevator arrived and JoAnne stepped inside the car. "Call me as soon as he wakes up." "I will," the younger man assured her as the doors slid shut. He walked back to Roy's room and waited for Brackett to finish his exam. He only had a wait a minute. "How is he?" Johnny asked as soon as the door opened. "No change," the doctor stated professionally but his concern for his colleague and friend was evident in his face. "Is it all right if I stay with him?" "You get enough sleep last night?" Brackett queried the paramedic. "Enough," Johnny sidestepped the question. Kel looked at him skeptically. "I'll let you stay until JoAnne returns and then I don't want to see you," Kel stated firmly. "But doc!" Johnny protested. Kel crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm serious, Johnny. I know you. You're just like Roy. You'd stay by his side until I'd have to admit you as well." "Okay. I go when JoAnne returns," he reluctantly promised. "Good. Have the nurse page me if you note any change in his condition." "I will, doc. Thanks. Uh . . . doc?" "What is it, Johnny?" "He is going to be okay, isn't he?" "I think so but the longer he remains unconscious . . . well, you know enough about head injuries to know how serious it is." Johnny nodded his head unwillingly. He didn't want to think what would happen if Roy stayed in the coma. "I have to make my rounds. I'll talk to you later," Kel informed Johnny and headed down the hall to the nurse's station. Johnny walked into Roy's room and pulled a chair up to his friend's bedside. For a moment, all Johnny could do was stare at his friend. He turned his brown eyes to look at Roy's face . "Come on Pally. It's time to wake up now," he urged softly but his friend didn't stir. He leaned back in his seat. Don't they always say you should talk to coma patients? Don't some people believe that they can hear you even if they can't wake up? Johnny wondered to himself. Well, it couldn't hurt to try. "Remember what Mike asked us yesterday?" he began talking, trying to think of something interesting to talk to his friend about. "He asked how we came to use our nicknames," Johnny chuckled, remembering the incident. "You remember that Roy?" He waited a moment. "Well, I remember." * * * * * * * * * E! * * * * * * * * * Winter. 1972. John Gage and Roy DeSoto had been paramedic partners for a short period of time. The bill allowing them to function as paramedics had passed the state legislature and they were officially on duty as firefighter/paramedics. One of the interesting aspects of being a paramedic in a county the size of Los Angeles was making the public understand their role in an emergency. Almost every run the new paramedics got, with the exception of traffic accidents, was of an unknown nature because the process of collecting adequate information had yet to be established. On one particular afternoon, the squad was called out to a high-rise office building. The information dispatch had given them was a vague "man down." Captain Hammer handed the call slip to Roy after he had acknowledged the dispatch with "10-4 LA. KMG-365." Johnny pulled out his green pen from his pocket and noted the address and time in their log book as Roy put the vehicle in motion. The squad raced through the streets, lights flashing, siren wailing and two paramedics anxious to put their training to use. Roy pulled the squad to a stop in front of the glass-faced building. Gathering their equipment, they hurried into the lobby. The building's receptionist, a matronly woman, was startled by the appearance of firemen. "Oh dear! Is the building on fire?" she asked nervously as she began to panic. "No ma'am. We're responding to a medical emergency on the ninth floor," Roy informed the woman. "Oh dear! Oh my!" "It's nothing to worry about but we'd like you to notify someone from maintenance to keep one of the elevator clear for our use. An ambulance should be arriving shortly. Can you direct them to Suite 907 when they arrive?" "Oh my! Can't someone else do that?" she pleaded, obviously very upset over the unfolding events. "If you can find someone, yes. But please be sure the elevator is locked off for us on the ninth floor," Roy repeated. "Okay. I'll do my best," she promised and lifted the telephone to call maintenance as Roy and Johnny headed for the elevator banks. The trip to the ninth floor was almost nauseatingly quick. The two paramedics step from the car and hurried down to Suite 907. Roy led the way as he opened the door to the office's reception area. "Fire department," he called as they entered. The secretary, a woman in her early forties, with blonde hair pulled into a tight bun, wearing a grey, tailored dress, entered nervously from the inner office. "Thank goodness you're here. I didn't know what to do." "Yes, ma'am. We got a call about a man . . . " "Yes. My boss. Mr. Gordon Friendly. He's been complaining about chest pains all morning. Kept saying it was indigestion but I don't think he looks well. I didn't know what to do but his doctor's office said to call the fire department. I hope I did the right thing." "Yes, ma'am. I'm Roy DeSoto and this is my partner, John Gage. We're paramedics with the LA Fire Department. Thank you, Miss . . . ?" Roy waited for the woman to complete the sentence. "Mrs. Daniels. Marion Daniels. I'm Mr. Friendly's secretary." "Where is Mr. Friendly now?" Johnny asked the woman. The woman led them to the door and opened it for the paramedics to pass into the office. Mr. Gordon Friendly, was a stout man of forty-five to fifty years old. The man was about a hundred pounds over weight, with thinning brownish hair but thick sideburns. He wore heavy tortoiseshell framed bottle glass lenses. He was talking on the phone, nonstop. The collar of his white shirt was opened at the top with his fashionably wide tie loosened and askew. The shirt sleeves of his dress shirt had been rolled above his chubby elbows. "No! You can't do that to me Maury!" he yelled breathlessly into the phone. Both paramedics looked at the gray, pasty complexion in alarm. His forehead was beaded with perspiration. And from his tone of voice, both men could just about estimate the man's blood pressure from where they stood. "Mr. Friendly?" Roy asked tentatively to get the man's attention. The business man looked up and his eyes narrowed in anger. "Marion!" he yelled for his secretary. "Who let these clowns in here?" "Sir. We're paramedics with the Los Angeles County Fire Department," Roy started to explain. "Firemen! Marion! What are firemen doing here?" he bellowed. "I thought I told you to call Dr. Harris!" "You did. I called and Dr. Harris is unavailable. His office said to call the fire department if it was an emergency." "Well, who the flip said it was an emergency?" he demanded angrily. Marion stood her ground. She'd been Mr. Friendly's secretary for enough years to act on her own initiative. "I did," she said in a tone that brooked no argument. "Well, get these bozos out of here and get me some more antacids!" he snapped. "Sir, if you'd just allow us to examine you, we may be able to ease your discomfort," Roy tried to explain. "Look, Pally! I don't have time to 'play' doctor with you! Just go back to your big red fire truck and leave me alone!" "Mr. Friendly, I assure you that we're both qualified to check you out," the older paramedic attempted to placate their victim. Both Johnny and Roy moved further into the man's office. "Maury! I'll have to call you back. I've got to deal with an interruption!" he stated sarcastically before slamming down the phone. He eyed the paramedics suspiciously. "So what do you pair of morons want?" "Paramedics," Johnny corrected the man. This man was being to irritate him and Johnny had to keep control of his anger and maintain a professional demeanor. "Listen, Junior! I don't care what you call yourselves.  You're not touching me!" Mr. Friendly rubbed his chest absently with his right hand. "Mr. Friendly, are you having chest pains now?" Roy asked the man. "What's it to ya, Pally? It's just indigestion! That's all!" the angry man snapped. "Well, if that's all it is, what's the harm in letting us check you out?" Johnny tried reasoning with the man. "Because Junior, I'm not some damn Guinea pig!" he raged. "Sir we're only trying to help you," Roy explained again. The man waved his hand in a move away gesture. "Why don't you boys go back to your fire house and play some cards or something? I've got work to do and you guys aren't helping!" "Mr. Friendly, please. It would only take a few minutes for us to check your blood pressure and make sure you're okay," Roy told him. "Marion. Get these parametrics out of my office!" "I will not! You will sit down and you will let these men do their job! Do you hear me?" Marion spoke back to her boss with assertive authority. Stunned, the man fell back into his leather chair. Not wasting the opportunity, the two paramedics moved in and set up their equipment. Johnny put together the biophone on the man's desk and contacted the hospital. "What's Junior doing?" the man asked Roy as he placed the BP cuff on the man's arm. "My partner is contacting Rampart Hospital. We'll be in touch with one of the ER doctor's there. We'll inform the doctor of your vitals . . . " "My what?" "Your vitals. They'll need to know your blood pressure, pulse, and respirations," Roy continued to explain as he inflated the cuff. Mr. Friendly's breathing increased. "Stand by for vitals, Rampart," Johnny told the hospital and readied his green pen to take down the information that Roy relayed to him. "Patient seems agitated. BP is 190 over 100. Skin is pale, cold and clammy. The pulse is rapid, weak and irregular. Patient is experiencing shortness of breath." Johnny relayed the information to the hospital. Dr. Early came back on the line, "51, it sounds like the patient is suffering from a myocardial infarction. Can you set up an EKG?" "Affirmative Rampart. Standby," Johnny stepped around the desk to help Roy attach the electrodes to Mr. Friendly's chest. "Whatcha do'n, Junior?" he asked with interest. Johnny smiled slightly as the paramedics opened the man's shirt and began applying the electrodes to his chest and arms. Now that Mr. Friendly was somewhat calm, the pain in his chest had intensified. "These are electrodes, Mr. Friendly," Johnny stated simply. "Wha . . . ?" "Electrodes. They're connected to that machine over there and we can send that information to the hospital at the same time," Roy explained further. "Well, how about that. Look, Pally. My chest is really starting to hurt," the man complained with a sudden intake of breath. "Hang on. We're just about to send a strip to the hospital and then they can tell us how to treat you," Roy assured the man. "Rampart. This will be lead two," Johnny informed the hospital. At the base station, Dr. Early watched the paper kick out of the machine with Mr. Friendly heart activity. "51. Start an IV, D5W, TKO. Administer a nitroglycerine pill under the tongue. Place the patient on 6 liters of oxygen. Draw a blood sample. Monitor vitals and transport immediately." Johnny repeated the orders to Roy. "10-4 Rampart. Ambulance attendants have just arrived. Transporting immediately." Mr. Friendly watched the activity of the paramedics with growing concern. He looked over at his secretary as Johnny placed the oxygen mask over his face. "Marion! Call my wife!" "I will, Mr. Friendly. Where are you taking him?" she asked as they moved her boss onto the gurney. "Rampart General," Roy told her as he lifted the glass IV bottle above the man's head and passed it onto one of the attendants. Johnny handed Roy the biophone and the meds box. The scope was placed between the man's leg along with the oxygen tank. The men rushed the patient out to the awaiting elevator while Johnny cleaned the area and packed up their remaining equipment. Later when they had a chance to catch their breaths again after safely depositing Mr. Friendly in the ER, the two paramedics relaxed for a moment at the base station. Johnny lifted the pot and turned to his partner. "Coffee? Pally?" he asked, grinning at his partner. Roy rolled his eyes at the name. "Sure. Thanks, Junior," he retorted wickedly. "Hey now! Don't go calling me Junior!" Johnny protested as he handed Roy a Styrofoam cup full of coffee. "Well, at least it's not as bad as Pally!" Roy pointed out. He picked up a couple packets of sugar and added it to the hot brew. "I don't know. Pally seems to suit ya, partner," the younger man observed as he poured the second cup. "Oh? It does, does it? Watch it, Junior, or you may get stuck with that moniker," Roy warned. "No way!" Johnny laughed. Roy chuckled along with his friend. It wasn't long before the nicknames started to find their way into the men's vocabulary and friendship, thanks to Mr. Friendly. And that thought remembrance brought John Gage back to the present and the man lying before him. "Come on, Pally," he urged again. "Wake up. JoAnne needs you. Christopher and Jennifer need you. And . . . " he choked back the lump in his throat. "I need you." * * * * * * * * * E! * * * * * * * * * At noon, Johnny ran down to the cafeteria to grab some lunch. On the way back to Roy's room, he picked up someone's discarded newspaper. He carried a cold drink in one hand and the paper in the other. A few minutes later, he returned to Roy's bedside just as the nurse was completing taking Roy's vitals. Johnny sighed as he resumed his seat. He placed his cup on the bedside table and opened the paper. He perused the pages looking for something of interest to read to his friend. He decided to start with the sports page. He read aloud for the next thirty minutes covering all the professional and college stats. Then he turned to the racing page. "Hey, Roy! Remember when you were picking all those winning horses? Man! I was so impressed with the way you did that. I couldn't believe you didn't actually bet on them and you were so good at it! Now take this horse . . . " "Would you put a sock in it, Junior?" Roy's soft voice implored. Johnny's head jerked up. "Roy? You're awake!" he beamed with a grin from ear to ear. "No thanks to you," he mumbled sleepily, closing his eyes. "Wait! Don't go back to sleep," Johnny pleaded anxiously as he reached for the call button. "Go away, Junior. You've been yakking forever," Roy complained. Obviously, it hadn't registered to him yet where he was. The nurse appeared at the door and observed that Roy was waking up and left to page Dr. Brackett. "Oh no! You're not blaming this on me," Johnny responded, desperately wanting Roy to be fully awaken. "Come on. Open those baby blues for me!" Roy cocked open his left eye and peered at his friend. For the first time, he took in his surroundings. Both eyes widened as he realized that he was in a hospital bed with his best friend leaning over him. "Wha . . . what happened?" he asked in confusion. "You were in an accident," Johnny explained briefly. Roy tired to shift his weight slightly but stopped abruptly as pain washed through his system. "Accident?" "Yeah. You were hit by a truck," Johnny reminded him. "No wonder I feel like I've been run over by a semi. Anyone get the license number?" Roy weakly attempted to joke about it but the throbbing in his head made him wince instead. "Afraid not," Johnny admitted sadly. Dr. Brackett entered the room, anxious to see for himself that Roy, was indeed, awake. "Roy! Welcome back!" he called out as he entered. "I didn't know I'd been away," Roy admitted. Johnny stood aside while Dr. Brackett did a neuro check on the injured paramedic. John picked up the telephone and called Roy's house to give JoAnne the good news. Before he could inform Roy that she was on her way, there was a knock at the door. The men turned to see Officer Vince Howard enter. "Hey, Johnny. Dr. Brackett. Roy," he said quietly. "Vince! Did you catch the guy?" Johnny demanded before the policeman had a chance to ask how Roy was feeling. "Well. Yes and no." "Huh?" "He had his parents bring him in. Turns out it was a sixteen-year-old kid. He's only had his license a few weeks. He'd never driven in rain like that. Said the lights on the squad distracted him and when he realized how close he was, he overcompensated and ran into the door. He was scared and didn't know what to do, so he drove home. Later he saw the news report about the accident. He didn't realize that Roy was injured. He told his folks and they brought him down to the station this morning," Vince explained. "What will happen to him?" Johnny's wondered. "He's been charged with hit-and-run and failure to render aid but given his age and inexperience, the judge will probably reduce the charges, especially since Roy is going to be okay." "Poor kid," Roy mused quietly. "Poor kid! POOR KID!" Johnny exploded. "Roy! He nearly killed you!" "Johnny, he didn't mean to hit me. It was an accident," Roy reasoned. Johnny shook his head at his friend's compassion but if he'd taken the time to think it through, he'd have reacted with the same forgiveness. "Thanks for coming by, Vince," Roy told the man sincerely, offering his left hand. Vince took Roy's hand in his. "I'm just glad that you are going to be okay. Get well soon." "I'll try," Roy promised. "Look. I've got to get back to the ER but I'll be back to check on you later," Dr. Brackett announced after Vince left. He turned to Johnny and with a stern look, pointed a finger at the younger man. "And you!" Johnny tried to look innocent. "Me?" "Yes, you. As soon as JoAnne gets back, you're out of here. Remember?" "I remember." "Good. Then I will see you later, Roy. And I will not see you, John," the doctor said pointedly as he departed. "Yeah, doc. Thanks for everything," John mumbled at the doctor's back. Roy chuckled lightly. "What?" "You, Junior." "What about me?" Roy sighed contentedly as he observed his friend. "Oh, I don't know. I guess I'm indeed fortunate to have you as a friend." "What do you mean?" "Well, growing up, I always had JoAnne to lean on. When I went into the army, I never seemed click with anyone. So, when I got out, Jo and I got married, I joined the fire service, and we started our family. Well, I just figured that was all I needed. Then the paramedic program came along and you and I became partners. But more than that, we've become best friends. I just want you to know how much your friendship means to me, Junior." "Thanks, Pally. I feel the same way," Johnny concurred. "Besides, it's time I got a little revenge," Roy said cryptically. "Huh?" Roy swept his hand broadly over his bed. "I'm going to be laid up for at least six weeks." "So?" "So, for once, you're the one that's going to be stuck with Craig Brice," he said gleefully. Johnny groaned, good natured. "You're cruel, Roy DeSoto!" "Pay backs are hell," he grinned mischievously. Johnny couldn't help but grin back at his friend. Putting up with Brice would be a piece of cake as long as he knew that Roy would be back and as good as new. "Amen to that, Pally!" "Any time, Junior!" * * * * * * * * * E! * * * * * * * * * THE END Author's note: Special thanks to my beta readers, Susan, Sherry, Amy, and Olive for their help with my grammar and medical information. But any medical errors are mine. Thanks to Janet for have this contest, it's been fun. return to main menu