Rescue 12 Responding, page 19
Her anger then turned inward to self-hatred and guilt, “I killed him, it was all my fault! I should have told someone they were using drugs!” She curled up in her bed, took a deep breath and decided she would concentrate her thoughts on her date for tonight, hoping that would make her feel better. She remembered why she had agreed to go out with Joey, he was so very hot. His deep dark eyes and strong build caught the attention of all the girls. But, when she first met him, she recalled that she had told Tommy that no matter how cute he was, Joey looked like he was angry with the whole world because his eyes made him look so mean. He was a mystery to her, and not really her type; cute enough, but way too distant. “And, what was up with him? Why did he seem to stay in the shadows but still came to a lot of Tommy's wild parties?”
Again, her mind uncontrollably shifted away from Joey and spiraled to her friends, “Why is Tommy dead? Why am I alone? And, why is Joey the only person who wanted to help me?” Debra cried deeply as she again relived the memory of the memorial service. She remembered their faces as they laid there lifeless and her own life that seemed to be as dead and hopeless as theirs. Then her mind shifted back to Joey. Although she had not seen him in months, he was there for her when she fainted at the memorial service. It was Joey who took her hand when the two paramedics returned her to her friends. He felt strong and safe, and she didn't want to let go of him. His strength seemed to make her strong, and she needed that strength as much then as she did tonight. She remembered Joey's deep brown eyes seemed so intense and gentle when he looked at her at the restaurant, and he clearly wanted to be with her. She grinned as she realized that tonight she suddenly wanted to be with him too.
Now the memory of their conversation became more focused and soothing. When she stood up from the paramedics at the memorial service he walked quickly up to her and whispered that she needed some fresh air, and he quickly walked her outside, away from her classmates who were lost in their own sorrow. They were grieving for themselves and didn't seem to care that she was leaving with Joey. She almost laughed when she remembered how odd it was that she found herself sitting across from him at the restaurant, watching him eat ice cream and talk of college. The distraction was nice, and so was his company. He said that he had graduated last year from Hillsborough High School. She reminded him it was their rival school, but that was OK. He made her smile, and she enjoyed recalling their conversation, “I was surprised that you remembered me from Tommy's parties since you never talked to me.”
"It's my job to notice who is at parties." His tone was so withdrawn that Debra didn't know what to think of it or why Tommy would have invited him to come. Joey quickly added, ''Besides, Tommy would have killed any guy brave enough to talk to you."
She almost blushed then, and that thought brought a grin to her face now. At the restaurant, Joey was so determined and persuasive about going out on a date together that he almost got angry when she declined. She liked his effort. "He likes me. I am sure of it. I bet he just didn't want me to get away and thought he better ask now before we didn’t see each other again. I kinda like that." Gradually she corrected the damage done by her tears and forced another smile as she spoke to herself in the mirror, “Well, at least Joey noticed me. Come on girl, shake it off and get ready for your date. He’ll be here in two hours.” She frowned, knowing it was going to take a lot more than heavy makeup and a large smile to cover the sadness in her eyes.
Debra walked to her closet and picked out her favorite pair of jeans. As she slipped on her jeans, her face tightened as she pulled on the zipper. She swallowed hard and looked down at her stomach that pooched out over her hand that held the zipper. She took her left hand and tried to stuff her belly into the jeans. It just wouldn't fit. Debra fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She held her breath, arched her back and slowly she pulled the zipper up, till finally, it had reached the top. Debra exhaled, barely. She rolled over to her side and stood again at the mirror, this time focusing on her belly. "The weight returned with a little extra," she moaned. She looked at the soft roll that hung above her pants and began to gently rub her belly, somehow that comforted her. She took a deep breath and felt a little better.
As her mind relaxed, the dark thoughts immediately pressed their attack. Depression would not give her an inch of space to recover, this was his battlefield to win. And, he would take her mind. Another tear rolled down her pale face, as she faced that she was powerless against these overwhelming thoughts that smothered her, no matter how hard she tried to think of something else. Her mind began to cycle again as the depressive thoughts choked her. It was bad enough that Tommy had not stopped doing the coke, which was the reason that they had broken up, but he was doing more and selling it to others. She had begged him to stop. He just wouldn't listen. She had no choice, but to give up. Guilt beat her, "It's all your fault. If you had just told someone, all your friends would be alive. It's all your fault."
Debra fell on her bed, and her pillow muffled the loud sobs of agreement, "It's all my fault. It's all my fault." Her tears choked her, and her breath was hard to catch. Her heart ached, and she wished of a thousand ways she could die, and the pain could stop. The faces of Tommy, Heather, and Darien came and haunted her. Their voices called to her in condemnation. It was all her fault. She knew that they were doing drugs and she didn't tell anyone. She was guilty of their deaths. Depression wrapped his long arms around her and whispered to this wounded soul. She rested in his arms, and mumbled the words that poured from her broken heart as she continued to weep, "What's the point? I don't deserve to live. I can't live with this guilt. I shouldn't live with this guilt." She was the prisoner of depression and irresistible fatigue. She closed her eyes in exhaustion, expecting to rest for a moment, but she fell asleep and wrestled with her nightmares until morning.
Debra's mother was already asleep and didn't hear her daughter’s sobs, and her father spent another uneventful Sunday in front of the TV. One football game was about over, and a row of beer cans lined the coffee table. At a commercial, he had a brief thought about his daughter and her date tonight. She had been so moody lately that he hoped a date might cheer her up and help her snap out of it. However, when Debra didn't come out of her bedroom, and no young man came to the door, he just assumed the date was canceled. He didn’t give her another thought as he sat in front of the TV and pressed the controller to watch the next game.
Chapter Nine
Monday:
A Good Day to Die
6:00 a.m. Monday morning, the alarm clock sounded. Jonathan rose from his bed on the first ring. Somehow, even in the early morning, the tension still remained in the air. Robert slept soundly, undisturbed by Jonathan's movement, who was careful to keep it that way. He didn't want to talk to Robert this morning. Jonathan hadn't slept well in the darkness of their bedroom and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. His uniform was ready, and so was he. He shut the front door, and it locked automatically behind him as he rushed down the hall. Jonathan wished that he would never have to return to what had been his home but now felt like his prison. Depression held him as he decided that he needed more time to make his final decision.
At the station, he noticed the lights were all off. He entered quietly. Slowly Jonathan reached over the bunk bed to the portable radio that rested on the night stand, and then he swiftly tiptoed out of the bunk room. The red pen still lay in the log book. Even with the lights off, Jonathan could see the multiple lines written in red. The early hours of morning had not been kind to the on-duty paramedics. He would give them a little more sleep while he checked out the ambulance.
David entered the garage to find his unit still wet from the morning dew. Jonathan was sitting in the driver's seat and motioned to him to walk to the front of the ambulance. Jonathan turned all the emergency lights of the unit on. The red and white lights danced off the walls and swirled around the doors. David walked around the unit, checking to see if all the lights worked. Wet grass clung to the rear wheel wells. The hood was still hot. David knew that meant it had recently idled on the side of a wet road. David nodded to Jonathan. The lights were working. Jonathan turned the lights off and got out of the cab.
"Are the guys still sleeping?" David asked.
"Yes, I thought we could let them sleep a little late this morning. Doesn't look like they got much sleep last night." Jonathan opened the back-compartment door and began inspecting the spinal gear. "Looks like they used the long spine board and the straps. We are down one complete set."
The door to the station swung open. Slowly Lennie walked over to the two men. Her eyes were swollen, her voice was scratchy. "Yes, we left it at Tampa General. The only boards they had in the back for us were bloody. I wasn't about to deal with cleaning up that mess this morning." She looked into the side compartment, then up to David, and then she turned and began to walk to the supply closet, "You do have two spine boards and plenty of straps and cervical collars on the unit."
David followed Lennie. She slowly reached into the cabinet with her right hand, her left hand rubbing her lower back. A slight gasp escaped her lips as she bent down to the shelf. She continued to move, handing David the supplies that they had used during the night: bandages and sterile dressings, IV fluids, and IV needles. David quietly held the supplies. They returned to the unit. David noticed the slight limp that Lennie had toward her right side. She didn't mention her back ache, so David respected her privacy. He recognized the painful limp and empathized with his co-laborer. She walked to the locked drug compartment and signed her name to the drug usage log book. She handed the drug box and book to him. David counted the drugs and then signed the book and returned it to the locked compartment.
The tired paramedic's morning had now officially ended. She could relax. "What a shift!" She rubbed her red eyes. "We were up all night last night. Some drunk teenagers drove their car into a tree on the second bad curve on Riverview Drive."
"Yeah?" David knew that curve well and remembered his own rescue calls he had worked there. "It is a bad curve. I've been there myself a few times. That tree has hugged a few cars that were going too fast around the curve. The last two times though, the drunks were dead. Were your kids OK?" He held his breath, hoping.
"It's a miracle; but yes, they were. You know, it's really neat how nowadays even when the teenagers are drunk, they remember to wear their seat belts." At this, her voice was cheerful, even in its tiredness. There was something to be pleased about. "As a matter of fact, one girl in the back said that they had all decided to go for the drive, but that they wouldn't go unless they all wore their seat belts. She figured they would be all right if they had them on." Lennie softly laughed. "They acted surprised that the seat belts hadn't worked like magic!"
Jonathan entered the conversation. "Well, at least they lived to complain about their injuries."
"Any real injuries?" David was curious.
"Nothing that will kill them; a few broken bones, and one of them really screwed up her leg. The driver's door had been impacted into the driver's section. The cut metal lacerated the driver's leg. It's amazing that she'll live to tell about her injury. She was a breath's length from death. You should have seen it. It was really gross." She sounded pleased with the visual images of this injury. “You could actually see the femoral artery pulsating. The cut was about ten inches long, and the skin and muscles were pulled back about three inches. All the muscles and the broken pieces of the femoral bone could be seen. The artery looked like a big balloon just waiting to be popped. It was just like a paramedic's idea of what a gross anatomy lab should be ... real interesting, real dangerous, and real important that we didn't make a mistake." She grinned with childlike wonderment in fascination of the human body, and then her eyes took on a mischievous twinkle, "When we arrived on the scene, I noticed this rookie deputy puking over the side of his patrol car. I acted like I didn't notice him." A small smirk crossed her lips, "But, I bet he won't forget that leg for a while."
Jonathan laughed out loud. "Some things never change. It's great to watch a rookie lose it on a scene. Something to break the stress of the accident. I bet he won't be first-in on a car accident for a while." His tone became serious. "Do you think the kid will lose her leg?"
"No, I don't think so. It was such a clean cut. The metal was sharp, and it missed the artery. Her blood pressure and pulse stayed well within normal range. We had the helicopter waiting for us. As soon as the firemen cut the door out of our way, we got her out, and she flew straight to Tampa General's trauma team. She was in surgery within twenty minutes of the accident. We drove the other two to Brandon Community Hospital. They were just banged and bruised. Rescue 33 drove the last one to Tampa General. The kid they drove looked OK, but he kept asking the same questions over and over again. We thought the neuro-team might do best to look him over. So, I think they will all survive."
"Good. Good. I would hate to think of another teenager dying right now. I don't think it would be too good for our business. One teenager's death always leads to another."
David had finished checking out all the compartments and boxes while they talked. He turned and walked into the station. The aroma of coffee had caught his attention. The thoughts of the teenagers were immediately replaced with thoughts of today's needs.
The two exhausted paramedics left quickly. Quietness filled the station. Jonathan welcomed the quiet. David wanted to talk. The two friends barely looked at each other. So much had happened in the last few days, neither knew what to say. David wanted to find out what happened after he left yesterday, but he waited. He had time to ask later. Twenty-four-hour shifts leave plenty of time to find the right moment.
Jonathan walked past his friend and hoped for a very busy day. He did not want to talk, and he did not want to think. He knew he had no answers for the questions that now plagued his mind. But, he did know that for some reason, he woke up afraid. Robert had made him feel like he was going to die, and those thoughts gradually strengthened within Jonathan until he believed it was true. Fear continued to oppress him. And for a paramedic who works the streets, where that risk was a constant reality, he knew this feeling was very ominous. Jonathan nervously rubbed his hands and felt himself tremble as he struggled to take control of his disturbing thoughts.
Death stood near the wall of the fire station silently stalking his prey and waiting for the moment he could strike. The eerie stillness touched David. He rubbed his arms, trying to warm himself, and couldn’t understand why he felt so cold. Inside his head, he heard a thought, "Go talk to Jonathan, Now." Over and over the gentle thought came, but David ignored the inner leading. He walked over to the newspaper and opened it to the front-page thinking, I have time, I'll talk to him later.
Death sneered and stepped a little closer.
The school bus stopped and picked up the tall attractive teen girl. A large bubble of gum popped as Debra stepped into the bus. Her long brown hair bounced on her shoulders, and her sleek shape was accented by her tight jeans. She wore her tee-shirt on the outside, and she hoped that no one would notice her belly. Her dieting hadn't seemed to help much with her recent gradual weight gain. She swallowed and felt nauseated as she walked down the aisle. The boys stared at her but would turn their heads away when she approached, then back when she walked away. The girls tried to act like they didn't notice her. The sight of her caused envy in the girls, and lust in the boys. Debra pulled her backpack a little closer and continued her walk to her seat. She wondered if it was because she was so fat and ugly that no one seemed to like her or if it was because they knew she was guilty of her friends’ deaths. She held back her tears as she heard giggles coming from the third row from the back of the bus.
One girl in cruel jest mocked, "Sure is a shame she is getting fat." They giggled and stared at her now. None of them would have admitted that jealousy fueled their verbal bullying. It was OK to hate her since she was popular and didn't seem to notice them. One girl whispered, "I would do anything to be like her, she is so pretty, even if she is getting fat."
The girl beside her punched her softly in the side. "You mean you would do 'anything' to be liked by one of her boyfriends," then laughed a little louder.
The third girl's eyes filled with tears instantly, "Hey, knock it off. Don't you remember her last boyfriend was Tommy?" Suddenly their envy was replaced by sadness, and the three girls quieted down.
Debra lowered her head so no one could see the small tear roll down her face, knowing they had been laughing at her but not knowing why. Her mind spun in confusion and sorrow. Why had she become someone to laugh at? And Joey, why did he stand her up? Two months ago, no guy would have stood her up, and she had her choice of dates, but Joey didn't even call. Am I just a joke now, to be made fun of and forgotten?
She knew they were laughing at her. Her friends were all dead, and now, no one liked her. She wanted, needed, someone to like her, but she had no one she could trust. She turned her head to the window and watched the world go by. She tried to find one reason to continue to try but found none. Depression flexed his strong muscles, and the other tormentors were jealous of his strength. "Why should I even try?" she whispered as she decided that she had no reason to live. I am gonna kill myself tonight and make this all stop. Her tears began to dry, and her heart numbed further as she accepted this decision and began to think of ways to do it.
