MAE JULIAN
Crawling around in the dark could yield anything. I was never one to be afraid of the dark, and working nights didn’t bother me as long as I had my partner, my flashlight, my radio, and I was in uniform. I think back now, and wonder what I was thinking. Bad things can befall you in the night. On the particular night I am going to tell you about, my husband, Spike,( Electrical Engineer at G.E.), was riding out with us. He only went out a couple or three times and, this was the last time he went out with me. I was working the detail that night with Mick. Tick had dispatched us to a house in the west end, which, if you have any brains at all would never go into if you were not with a service such as ours, LPD or LFD.
Tick radioed us: “Med 33 make 24th and Muhammad Ali on a 10-39. Be advised that there may be a 10-38 at the scene. LPD is responding. Make your run number 623.” I keyed the mike, and responded “10-4 radio,” as I reached under the dash and toggle-switched the siren. Mick reached to the dash and activated the blue and red strobes. “Let’s hit it!” I guess it would be hard to understand how much we loved making runs on shootings. Lest you think us callous, I should say that these are very challenging runs. Not the ordinary sick person, or the minor injury, for which we were too often dispatched. Luckily, at that time in the service, we could triage out anything we felt didn’t need an ambulance, and clear ourselves for another run. Later in the service, they had to transport everyone who called. Politics. It was politics that our young service did not have to put up with, especially on night shift.
We arrived on the scene simultaneously with LPD. We didn’t see the 10-38…man with a gun….so we proceeded into the house. Mick and I were so intensely focused we mistakenly thought Spike was right behind us. Mick kicked out a boarded- up lower window, which we climbed through with our jump kit, containing all our supplies. Using our flashlights, we scanned the rooms downstairs quickly and proceeded upstairs where we could hear a commotion. My poor husband had fallen behind, and had some trouble slipping through the hole Mick had kicked in. When he got in, it was pitch black, he had no flashlight, and he had no idea where we had gone. Making things worse, we had advised him as we were responding, that we had a shooting with the assailant still on the scene. He describes this now as “pretty scary”. He didn’t know whether to proceed into the dark, or to leave. He decided that since he couldn’t see anything, to go back to the ambulance. He was surrounded by so many cop cars outside with their strobes on, that he was concerned he would be shot. LPD apparently didn’t see him as a danger, as they didn’t confront him. I’m sure that he would describe it as a horrible experience. That was the end of his riding out with me. As for me, I didn’t realize he wasn’t behind us until we got up the stairs to the screaming victim. LPD had already entered the house, and were clearing all the rooms. No assailant was found. The guy who was shot was a picture of red on black, except for the whites of his eyes. He was shot in the abdomen and the left side of his head. It wasn’t until we were slapping bandages on him, preparing to move him down the stairs that I noticed that Spike was nowhere to be seen. I swore under my breath for my carelessness, but we proceeded on with getting the victim down the stairs and out of the house. Spike was waiting in the ambulance. We put the victim on a stretcher, and I started two # 14 IV’s on him. He was screaming as loud as when he got shot, I’m sure. A #14 angiocath is probably like a sixteen-penny nail. Got to get fluids to him fast so he won’t drop his blood pressure while bleeding out. So, whilst I was getting the IV’s started, and Mick was stripping him naked to see if he had any other wounds, Spike sat on the squad bench, which is parallel to the stretcher in the back of the ambulance. He was watching something unfold that he would only see on TV, if he chose to, which he wouldn’t.
At any rate, I got in the driver’s seat and kicked it, while Spike rode in the back with Mick and the victim who had blood all over him. He had two IV’s flowing into his arms, and O2 at 10 liters. Sirens were screaming us to the hospital for a Room 4 (major trauma room) at University Hospital. Spike stayed in the ambulance the whole time, not coming into the ER. When we got back to the ambulance, after having written the report, Spike didn’t look too good.
Shortly after that, we were at a GE dinner for some occasion or another and at the table people wanted to hear “war stories”. Spike said something under his breath about people eating. I didn’t note that any of them looked uncomfortable and realized that it was Spike who was uncomfortable. I do remember one of the guys asking him, ” Spike, doesn’t it make you concerned for your wife to be working night shift with EMS? Doesn’t it worry you to death?” Spike hesitated only a second and he said, ” better her than me”. This cracked up all the people at the table and he never did explain his position.
I grew up with five brothers, and a father who was chauvinistic. Don’t think for a minute that I didn’t (and don’t) savor the triumph of doing a man’s job in a man’s world. It was the best job of my life. I only wish my dad could have lived to ride out with me, so he could see what his “girl” could ( and would ) do!
Happy Spring,
Waynedale friends,
Mae
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