Customers wanted me to do this and
That and they wanted it now.
They all wanted me to drop what I was doing
Because they had call me.
They were more important than the guy before.
Punched out at 5:30pm.
Started the car
Looked at the fuel gauge.
Had better get some gas
Or I would have a long walk
From nowhere to
Somewhere.
Stopped at the gas station
Five pumps were not working
Three were.
I had my choice of diesel or high test.
Since I don’t use diesel, I chose high test
Paid way more than I do in a month for one
Tank of gas.
Paid the woman
Behind the three inch thick glass.
Had to wait while she finished chatting with
Someone on the telephone.
She did not even say thank you.
Got back into my car.
Radio said that there was a big snowstorm coming.
I looked at the gray sky.
Suddenly the air turned colder.
Traffic was a bear.
Everyone was trying to get
Out of town.
Except me,
And about a dozen other fools.
Saw a couple of fools trying to drive
While talking on the cell. Drive or talk
But don't do both at the same time
I don’t care how careful people
Say they are.
Driving is a full time job.
Pull over and answer the phone
Or call from the curb.
An accident can happen as the driver
Looks away or down to the keypad.
Finally made it to the firehouse.
Pulled next to the Harley.
Locked the car.
Walked to the front door
And entered my code on the pad.
Nothing happened.
Cleared the pad and tried
Again.
This time, there was a click
And I turned the knob.
The engine room was hotter than a steam room.
Checked my gear.
Someone had put a water-balloon in my right boot.
Just what I did not need.
Pulled out the balloon and dropped it into the
Trash can.
Checked out the ambulance.
Engine purred.
All the lights worked
For a change.
Even the left brake light worked.
During the last shift, the ambulance and the engine
Had been transferred to another firehouse in another county.
Apparently the driver had returned to the house too
Late to fill the tanks.
I had one full tank out of two.
“Cap, I’ll be at the pump if you need me,” I told the captain.
“Bob, take Timmy with you and when you’re done
Pick up some dinner.
The list is at the watch desk.”
Tim was in the front seat before I could page him.
He and I always got along
Unlike some of the other EMTs.
I opened the bay doors
And we drove out onto the apron.
I looked in my rear view mirror as the bay door
Closed.
Drove a hundred feet and turned into the police
Lot. They have two pumps.
Put the nozzle in the tank
Punched in the station code.
Selected the grade and
Began to pump.
Waited for the receipt
It never printed.
Made a note to call the county.
The evening air was getting colder
I felt something wet, touch my nose.
Then another something and another.
Snow flurries were beginning to show themselves.
We drove to the grocery store and parked at the curb.
I know I shouldn't have but if we got a call,
I didn't want us to kill ourselves as we ran
Across the ice covered parking lot.
Tim took the portable and I grabbed a cart.
We went inside.
I turned to the right and Tim went straight down the aisle.
Since I had the list
I had no idea where Tim was going.
I got a gallon of milk.
Biscuit mix, pound of butter.
Approaching the meat counter, my pager went off.
Heading to the front door, I saw Tim already in the unit.
“Did you catch the address?” I asked.
“It’s the Miller farm. Someone has a stomach-ache.”
Turned on engine and emergency lights. Put unit in drive
Then stomped on the brakes.
Some moron had decided to pull in front of me as I was
Pulling out.
I glared but they did not
See me.
They left their car at the curb and went inside.
Wish there was a cop here.
Snow is falling harder now.
Windshield wipers are trying to clear the snow
The storm came out of nowhere, the man on the
Radio explains.
He says we are in for a big one.
Great, I say to myself
But I guess it was not all to myself
Tim asks me what I meant.
Road is getting slippery
I can feel the unit slip
Here and there
I don’t need this unit to slip
When we get back to the station
I will have to put chains on it.
I hate putting chains on this unit.
I turn down the road leading to the Millers
Farm.
What goes down must come up.
I feel the tires leave the asphalt and
Bite into the mud and gravel.
I pray there is more gravel than mud.
I tap the brakes and we begin to slide.
"Do something," Tom yells in my ear.
I don't even look at him.
We are sliding toward a tree.
Not tonight.
I say a short prayer.
Suddenly we are not sliding anymore.
We are back on the muddy road.
The tree waves to us as we pass.
Mr. Miller stands at the bottom of the hill.
I hope we can stop and not stop on him.
We stop.
Tim's color is coming back from white.
"Nice driving, Bob!
Tim grabs the small jump bag and I pull the
radio and O2. I hit the destination button
on the dash so that dispatch knows we
have arrived.
Mr. Miller leads us up the snow covered walk.
I have never seen him without a pipe in his mouth.
He is puffing on the pipe as he holds the storm door open.
"Up the stairs," Miller says.
I turn and look at Tim.
The steps lead almost straight up.
Not much room for a stretcher.
We get to the second landing and the stairs turn sharply to the right.
The stretcher will definitely not work!
And there is barely a wisp of light on the steps.
Miller has turned his attic into a spare room.
The roof beams are exposed.
I nod to Tim.
He is taller than me.
And its cold in the attic except for a space heater which is not doing
much good.
Our patient screams from under a pile of blankets.
Either there are too many blankets piled on her middle or she is
pregnant.
She screams again and reaches for my arm.
Tim is already on the radio.
"I can't get dispatch."
"You won't be able to get anyone until you get up on the
hill," Mr. Miller says with a noticeable snicker.
"Tim, go ahead and get the Reeves," I start to say but
Tim is already going down the steps. It's good that
we know each other and can almost read each others
mind.
Pulling a light from my jump bag, I reach for the blanket.
A hand with sharp nails grabs my arm.
"I don't think I want this baby," she yells.
"You take it."
I hope my department issued jacket will keep her nails from
drawing my blood.
I hear some cursing as Tim misses a step and falls.
"You okay?" I yell.
"Yea," Tim yells back.
"Did you start the engine?"
"Engine and heater going full blast," Tim answers.
"What's your name?"
"Jean... Oh it hurts like a mother."
"My name is Bob and the guy crawling up the steps is Tim."
She gives a little laugh.
"Jean, I'm going to check and see how dilated you are."
I pull on the latex free gloves, raise the blanket and look.
"Tim, we need to get going."
Tim unrolls the Reeves Stretcher and lays it flat on the floor
next to our patient. Someday I would like to shake the hand
of the person who invented the Reeves Stretcher. For now,
I have to accept that it works and will help us get our
patient down the stairs.
Tim pulls two lights from his jump bag. Lights attached to a head band.
"When did you get those babies?"
As Tim opened his trap to tell me, Jean screams.
Not just a little scream but a window jarring, sound breaking scream.
I yell back to Jean.
"How are things going Jean?"
"Just fucking fine, Bob."