MAE JULIAN
Street Nurse
Snow and ice are not pleasant for Louisville, since we are not prepared for it like you in the Fort, and other places further north. Anyway, it was cold, snowy, and slick. I had dressed in my long underwear, stocking cap, Isotoners, socks, boots, navy blue uniform and EMS jacket which had large arm patches that shouted, “NURSE”. I nodded approvement in the mirror prior to setting off for the barn that night. I always felt like a gladiator must have felt right before going into the arena. ” The barn,” is our headquarters. All of our ambulances, med cars, and equipment are kept in there. It is also, in every way that counts, our home. Our street home. We roll in at night, park our cars, and head into the equipment room to replenish our jump kits, and check out all the stuff we depleted the night before. We check and load the ambulance with bandages, splints, ice packs, full boards, half boards, oxygen cylinders, heart monitors, intubation kits, and trauma equipment. We prepare for anything the night might dish out. The last thing we do is check out a numbered radio.
I slip the hand-held into my holster at my side and head out to the ambulance, stopping only to get my nightly Big Red from the machine that sits at one end of the barn. I dropped two quarters in the slot, then, flat-kicked the bottom of the machine, encouraging the Big Red to drop down. No one has ever called in to report the inefficiency of the machine, since kicking it does the trick. I guess we accept it as we do each other, flaws and all. We don’t want it fixed. It’s fine the way it is. We know its kinks and how to deal with it. All we require is consistency, so we know what to expect, whether for good or bad. Everyone has strong suits and weaknesses. We have a need to know each other well, and we do.‑ Lives depend on this cohesiveness. Maybe it starts with the pop machine. I cracked my Big Red and swung into the passenger seat of the ambulance, resting one boot on the dash.‑ Tonight, I was riding out with Janner. She was my partner much of the time, as she is surely a descendent of Magellan.‑ I need her to counter my geographical dyslexia. She is an EMT. We eased past the ambulance washing dock, radioed 10-8 when we cleared the barn, and set out for the night.‑ The unknown is one of the attractions for those of us who work in this kind of arena. The night can, and does, bring anything. The night is alive.
We were headed up 2nd street, towards town, when Tick cut in.‑ Lord, I hadn’t even downed my Big Red yet.
“Med 33,” Tick clipped. “Make 22nd and Bank on a 10-50. Make your run Code 3.‑ Multiple vehicles involved.‑ Be advised LPD and LFD‑are also code three to location. Run number 3200.”
I picked up the unit mike, and responded evenly, “10-4 Radio.”
“Jeezes, Janner!” ‑I complained, as she hit the lights, siren, and accelerator.‑ I told her not to make me spill my Big Red, for God’s sake. We had a long run ahead. We had barely cleared headquarters and this run was deep into the West End.‑ “Um….Janner….22nd and Bank…isn’t that where that Shell Station is?”‑ She nodded in acknowledgement, “That’s probably why LFD was knocked out. Must be gas all over the place.‑ ‘CLEAR!'” I called. This is the standard notification approaching each intersection so that partners know the right side of the intersection is clear.‑ She would be watching the left, herself. Teamwork in everything.‑ “Well”, I speculated to Jan, “how fast could anybody be going on a night like this?”
“West End,” she countered. Explanation enough.
As we rolled up on the scene, we saw a kaleidoscope of color from all the responding units, and a vehicle that looked like it had exploded. A car had hit a gas pump and was split completely in two. Good God!‑ How fast would they have to be going to do that kind of damage to a vehicle?‑ We stopped our ambulance a few yards away from the wreckage. We grabbed our jump kits and approached the first responding EMT’s for an assessment.‑ It was a BLS unit.‑‑ LPD officers were already urging me to check the guy lying on the ground nearest the first unit. I moved in with my jump kit and called back to Janner to get two IV’s of LR set up for me.‑ “What else do we have?”‑ I asked Deafendum. His real name was Defandahl, but acquired his nickname the first night out, due to a pitiful erroneous judgment call that was never forgotten. He had fear on his face. “Dead,” he yelled. “One dead”! Without looking up I said…is that confirmed, Deafendum??? He wore his usual chagrined face, which always seemed to plead for some respect that would likely never come. I said,….”DEAFENDUM!‑ Is the 10-80 confirmed??”‑ He got huffy then, being the huffy, fluffy, puffy sort. He whined defensively, in his West Virginia accent, “Well, you kin check if you want, but his head ain’t connected to him no more. It’s over there!”‑ I looked in the direction of his hand and said, “Well, could you at least put a sheet over his head?‑ Where’s his body?”‑ Deafendum skulked away then, the wind out of his sails, and covered the head, then the body, with orange sheets. Deafendum carried a brush, cologne, deodorant, and a mirror in his jump kit. Personal emergency supplies.
I knelt down by the body of a young male who was unconscious. Not only that, he was missing his lower legs. The EMTs had tourniquets on both legs, above where his knees had been. Surprisingly, his bleeding was controlled when I got there.‑ I opened my jump kit and pulled out two 14-gauge angiocaths. I started an IV in his right anti-cubital space, opening the IV to rapid infusion. This was not going to be a save. Too much bodily damage and horrendous blood loss. I got the second IV in his left arm just when another back-up unit arrived. “Re-check the scene!”‑ I yelled at Digger.
“We have two more,” he reported shortly. “One is dead; decapitated. The other is still alive, but he looks bad; head is caved in. Get two IV’s going on him,” I said. “We need two units for transport.” “We’ve got em,” he reported back.
“You go with the guy with no legs,” I told him,‑ “I’ll work the other vic.”
“What about the dead guy?” he asked. I just looked up at him. He then headed for the ambulance to get a full board and stretcher to prepare for transport.
“Where are his legs?” I yelled across at Digger.
“Don’t know,” he called back.
“Find his legs!”
“Are you nuts!?‑ This guy is practically dead, now.”
“Get his legs! Then, never mind,” I relented, “Go…get him to Room 9.”‑ Digger loaded up the guy, transporting him with one of the legs a cop had recovered.
The unit took off Code 3 for the University Hospital. “Notify!” I reminded him needlessly.
“Got it,” he called back.‑ As I was checking the injuries of the vic who had the depressed skull fracture, and an excoriated face, I noted that he still had a pulse. His pupils were blown. I was surprised that he seemed to have few other obvious injuries.‑ I got two IV’s going on him, and opened them wide. We loaded him on a full board to the stretcher to the ambulance, and were ready to clear. For whatever reason, I looked past the damaged gas pumps and saw a black object in the snow. I slid over and out of the unit, and saw it was Digger’s guy’s other leg with a high top tennis shoe still attached.‑ I ran to it, grabbed it up, and tossed it into our ambulance as we moved out, with our unconscious guy on the stretcher. I would give Digger the other leg when we got there.‑ Janner kicked it, Code 3, University. One vic was left at the scene for the coroner.
LPD gave us a full report later in the evening. The three guys had stolen a Cadillac and were tearing away with it, when they hit ice, spun around, and screamed into the gas pump. The car was as mutilated as the bodies. Within one hour of their arrival at General, the other two boys were dead. Notification was made, and we were still at University, finishing up our reports when the families began arriving. The screaming would stay with me all night. I thought to myself, what would it be like to see your son go out the door, and the next time you saw him, he was in University Hospital…what was left of him. Kids.‑ They think they will live forever. No horrible fate awaits them. And then it does. Only the suffering is left to the mothers and family who went to bed thinking it was just another cold night.
I finished my report and cleared University. “Okay Tick, we’re 10-8.”‑ “10–4”, Tick responded.‑ I could have sworn I heard him actually take a breath before he came back again…Med 33…make…
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