Waiting for a Comeback

Disclaimer: As always, the Emergency! people own their characters and I own any that I may create over the course of this story. I am only doing this for fun. No money is involved.

*This is a companion piece to my story Left to Wait and Wonder. It is the same storyline, only using another character's view of the events. While it is definitely not necessary to read the other piece first, it may help clarify some specific details about what exactly happened to get the characters where they are in this story.*

On with the story…

Nightmares in my line of work are a given, although they are usually someone else's nightmare: their home or business is in flames, them or a loved one is sick or injured in an accident. I just never expected to live one of mine. But that is exactly what happened.

Now as we gather here in the station celebrating the return of our final crewmember, once again making us whole, I can't help but let my thoughts wander back to the events that brought us all here for this occasion. Although a number of months have passed since that fateful day, a single detail has not escaped my memory. And, I doubt that one ever will.

All six of us have smiles on faces and we are truly happy, but if we look deep into each other's eyes, the memories held there are still very clear. The pain and fear we all felt remain near the surface. I am sure that in our own way, we are each reliving that day wondering if there was one little thing that could have been done different, all the while knowing in our hearts that we did everything we were supposed to do and maybe even more.

The morning started out beautiful. The sun was shining, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It fulfilled every aspect of the stereotypical perfect California weather. The weather was definitely having an effect on my mood. I woke shortly before my alarm was set to go off. I had slept well and was eager to start my day. It was also a pleasure not having to hear the awful noise that little machine makes for once. Who knew that one little piece of machinery could be hated with such passion? With the extra few minutes, I was able to enjoy a relaxed breakfast with my wife. I savored this rare occasion since most of the mornings that I am on duty are spent rushing to get out of the door on time.

I somehow wish that I had stayed in bed. Life would have been easier that way.

I think.

But then again, I am glad that I was with my partner, my best friend, when we needed each other the most. I don't think that I would have ever been able to forgive myself if I had stayed home. I am sure that the strength that we drew from each other influenced the outcome, and that outcome is something that I would not want to change.

I arrived at the station right around the same time as always. Not too early, but nowhere close to being late. Mike and I walked into the station at the same time, which again, isn't unusual. I can hear Marco pulling into the parking lot as the door closes behind us.

What is unusual is that my partner is already here and getting dressed. Most days, he comes in at literally the very last moment, and is sometimes even late. While this is not the first time he has been early, I can probably count on one hand the number of times that he has been this early, even with the number of years that we have worked together. What is most unusual is his quietness. Regardless of what time he arrives in the morning, he is already going by the time he walks in the door.

Today, there is nothing. Not a word. He is sitting quietly in front of his locker pulling on his uniform. I get a mumbled hello and nothing more. Not wanting his mood to spoil mine, I brush it off, chalking it up to a bad date that I am going to hear about for the rest of the shift. I wanted to prolong the start of his complaints as long as possible, so I made no verbal comment to my partner.

The morning ritual continued. Sending the previous shift to their cars, Captain Stanley announced roll call. For some reason, none of seemed to get in a hurry. When we all first walked into the bay, I got the impression that Cap was slightly annoyed with our slow appearance. Almost as quickly as I noticed it, that look was gone.

As the morning announcements were read, I contemplated what was different about this morning. Why was my partner so early and so quiet, why did no one seem to want to get the day started? I was pulled from my musings somewhat suddenly as I heard Cap say the words that I never thought I would hear during my entire career.

"And, I will handle the latrines today." He says it as if nothing is abnormal with that proclamation.

For a split second, there is no reaction from anyone as we are processing what was just said. I bet each of us had the same thought. 'Did he really just say that?'

I struggled to keep my reaction contained. I will not question what Cap just said, for fear that he will change his mind and assign me the hated chore. I see the delight in everyone's eyes. There are a few mouths with the corners turned up slightly, but valiant efforts are being made to keep them breaking into full smiles. I am sure that as soon as Cap is out of sight and hearing range, there will be much smiling, laughing, and commenting. But, we are smart enough to keep that to ourselves. For now.

I wish that I had a camera in my locker so that we could document this rare and possibly once-in-a-lifetime occasion. Maybe I should look into buying an extra one so I will be ready for any future surprises of this magnitude.

The morning stayed blissfully, but unusually silent. Cap has put off his self-imposed chore until later, saying that he has just a few more forms to fill out first. Truthfully, I think he is having second thoughts about the assignment and is waiting for Chet and Johnny to get into their daily argument. That will give him the opportunity to assign the chore to one of them instead. For once, we may be able to get through lunch uninterrupted. As I take some dishes from the cabinet to set the table, I can't help but wonder how it is that we haven't gotten a single call all morning.

It was as if the fire gods were listening to my thoughts. Before I can make it back to the table, the tones start sounding. As I get into the squad, I begin to wonder if the entire department is being called to this scene as the number of stations responding continues to grow. When it seems like there are no more stations left to call, the voice overhead informs us that we are responding to a warehouse fire, and there are likely chemicals involved. I hate these types of fires. The instability and unpredictable nature of chemicals ratchets up the danger factor. One minute the fire can be under control and the next chaos can ensue. I hope that we can contain this quickly and resume our quiet shift. Apparently, it is too much to hope for.

Our station was the first to arrive on the scene. It is a large warehouse. The bottom floors are already burning heavily. Captain Stanley quickly directs which lines he wants Marco and Chet to pull. Mike knows his job and needs no direction, although he still listens for it. Johnny and I pull on our coats and air tanks as we approach our captain for our orders. There is a man who meets us there saying that there could still be someone inside. I hope there really isn't. If someone was on those lower floors, there is no way that they could still be alive.

Captain Stanley quickly tells us to search the upper floors, but to do it fast. There is no way to know how much time we will have before the chemicals become unstable. Chet and Marco begin attacking the flames nearby as we enter the building. The smoke is heavy and we can only see a few feet in front of us, even with our flashlights. We begin our search on the floor directly above the flames. It is extremely hot here and anyone still on this floor is in immediate danger. It is apparent that the floor is not going to hold out very long. About 10 minutes after we began, we complete out search of this floor. I can tell that other stations have finally begun arriving as I can feel the heat begin to dissipate slightly.

I have regularly kept Cap up to date with our position, so he knows the general direction that we are headed, to the northeast. As I prepare to announce our plan to move to the next floor, I glance at Johnny. He has that look on his face. He can tell that something is about to happen, and whatever it is will not be good. My heart sinks into my boots. I have seen this look before and things always go bad quickly. He grabs my arms and begins pulling me toward the stairs. I never got to make the call to Captain Stanley. Nor did I know exactly what was about to happen. Johnny never had a chance to say why he had the sudden urge to run as an explosion tore the building apart. My last conscious thoughts were that I was glad that Johnny was with me at the end and that I wished that I could tell my wife that I love her one last time and say that I am sorry that I am not going to be coming home.

Pain. That is the first thing that I notice. I have no idea what is happening or how I got here. Excruciating pain. I feel like my chest is exploding. Everything above my waist hurts, including my head. I can't seem to get my body to obey my mind. Even breathing is a taxing chore. I want to open my eyes and see what is going on. I want to ask so many questions. I can make out what looks to be a doctor standing over me. Why I know that the figure in front of me is a doctor escapes me. I think that he is trying to talk to me, but I have no idea what he is saying. Someone else must be in the room with him. I can feel someone poking and prodding me somewhere, although I am in too much pain to know exactly what that person is doing or where they are doing it. Finally, I give into the confusion, pain, and exhaustion and once again slip into oblivion.

The next time that I am aware of my consciousness, I can now think only slightly clearer. I can tell that I am in a hospital bed. I can only guess that I am at Rampart. I still have no idea what has brought me to this place, or how long I have been here.

The pain is still very much present. Although slightly dulled now, it is still more than I think I can handle. I can pinpoint exactly what hurts now. It feels like every rib on the left side of my chest is broken. They shift with every breath I take. There is also a pain in the center of my chest like I have never experienced before in my life. I can only hope that a heart attack is not involved with bringing me here to this hospital room. Both of my shoulders ache. I attempt to move my arms, only to find them both securely fastened in place. I am left to guess that they are either broken or dislocated. Neither choice is a particularly delightful prospect and my slight movement has re-intensified my pain. My head pounds with every beat of my heart. I have had concussions before, so I suspect that is what is causing this. I do know that based on the amount of pain that it is causing me, that it must be one of the worst concussions that I have ever suffered in my career. I still haven't opened my eyes. I know that even if the lights are dimmed, it will only serve to intensify my pain. I want to delay that as long as possible. I can now feel pain in my leg as well. Having no prior memory of this, I can't begin to imagine what is wrong. I can tell there it is a cast, so it must be broken, but there is another pain there that I cannot identify. I guess it will remain a mystery until I can focus enough to open my eyes and ask.

Apparently no one has noticed my brief reconnection with consciousness as I hear no voices or feel hands once again checking over my injuries. With all my questions still remaining unanswered, I again drift to sleep.

I have no idea how long I have lying in this bed. In what I assume has been a drug induced slumber, time has held no meaning for me.

For some reason, this venture to the surface is different. I don't feel so fuzzy or confused. I almost feel human. I don't know when I first realized that my wife was in the room with me. I have vague memories of her holding my hand and whispering comforting words to me.

I am finally coherent enough to know what is going on around me. Someone else must have noticed this as well. Dixie appears in my line of sight. She smiles and tells me to relax, that I am going to be just fine, and that Dr. Early will be coming to see me in a few minutes. She appears genuinely happy that I am awake, but I can see in her eyes that there is something she is hiding. Before I have a chance to test my voice and ask her about it, the aforementioned doctor comes into my room. After a quick once-over, he opens the door to allow my wife and Captain Stanley to enter my room. I instantly know that they are here to convey bad news, and my first instinct screams that it is about Johnny, even though the reason for my own presence here is still unclear to me.

After conveying their greetings, they quickly get down to business. The first thing they tell me is the answer the question that has be on my mind the longest. 'Why am I here?' Apparently Johnny and I were searching a building during a fire. During that search, some chemicals being stored there exploded, destroying most of the building, burying my partner and me completely. It took hours to dig us out. According to all present in the room, it is a miracle that either of us survived the initial blast, but an even bigger miracle that we made it to the hospital. I am slightly stunned by the revelation that this all occurred three days ago. Have I really been out of it that long? If I am hurting this badly and have been unconscious for three days, how badly must Johnny be hurt for Cap to have that type of look on his face and my wife to have tears in her eyes?

Before I have a chance to actually ask any questions, Dr. Early lists my injuries. I am only surprised by the fractured sternum. That certainly explains the pain in the center of my chest. He also mentions that I had a chest tube that was thankfully removed just this morning. My self-inventory had already told me the rest. To my relief, he tells me that he expects a full recovery. That is one less thing for me to worry about.

Taking advantage of a short pause in the conversation, I finally pose my question, though I am pretty sure the answer in not something that I want to hear. Yet, there is an indescribable need to hear it with my own ears. "Johnny?"

The momentary panic on their faces is answer enough. To their credit, they don't try to placate me with empty gestures. They get straight to the point. I am grateful for that since I am tiring quickly and desperately need to know about my partner before I fall asleep.

With each additional injury that Dr. Early mentions, I feel my heart break a little more. Skull fracture, broken ribs, punctured lung, damaged liver, bruised kidney, broken vertebrae, broken femur. Now I know why they said it was a miracle that we made it to the hospital. Without them saying it, I know that it will take another miracle for Johnny to leave the hospital, not just healthy, but simply alive.

The physical and emotional toll that just this conversation has had leaves me completely exhausted. Before I can be sure that they have told me everything and are hiding nothing, as I suspect they are, I can no longer hold my eyelids open and I fall into a restless slumber.

The ever present pain in most of my body has become more of an ache and soon pulls me from my latest rest. Even with the huge doses of pain medications that I have been receiving, I am still very much uncomfortable. The pain in my chest, I notice, has changed since I first opened my eyes just a few short hours ago. Something is not right, and I summon a nurse to call the doctor. My paramedic training tells me this isn't a pain that is a sign of my injury. I have a vague idea of what is happening, but I need Dr. Early to confirm my fear. And, after one sets of chest X-rays and lots of listening with a stethoscope, I hear that dreaded word. Pneumonia. While I harbor no fears as to how this complication will affect my recovery, I know that it will confine me to this bed. My hope of at least a short trip to my partner's bedside, while having been extremely remote at the outset, has vanished completely. My only hope now is that since we have caught it early, the illness will be quickly resolved. My best friend desperately needs me by his side and I have to get to him as soon as I can.

The next several days pass agonizingly slow. The pneumonia has certainly done nothing for my disposition. The fever brought on by this infection has given new life to my nightmares. This only serves to exacerbate my already troubled breathing. Every time I close my eyes to sleep, a new dream haunts me. In each one, Johnny and I are trapped together and each and every time I watch him die just out of my reach. With each incarnation, the manner of his death becomes increasingly traumatic, not only to him but for me as well. The same feeling of helpless plagues me as each scenario is played out by my mind. I have even had trouble shaking that feeling during my waking hours. I pray that it is not a premonition of things to come.

On the up side, if it can be called that, is that Johnny is still fighting to live. He hasn't given up, not that I expect he ever would, and not that he would be allowed to since there is always someone in the room with him. How I wish that I could be there too.

Dr. Early came by this morning with some good news for me. It sees that the pneumonia is clearing. If I continue to improve today, he has promised me that I will be able to visit Johnny in the morning. Tomorrow cannot get here fast enough. If I catch the nurses with their backs turned long enough, I may just sneak up there tonight. I am tired of waiting and wondering what is happening to him. Six days of word of mouth updates have me at the end of my patience. I need to see him for myself, even if all I get is a passing glance.

Unfortunately, the latest update on my partner's condition is not as good. It seems that his liver and that kidney are not responding very well. They are continuing to voice that displeasure at the trauma inflicted upon them. I know that things cannot continue as they are and this journey still have a favorable outcome. Things will have to get better soon, or we will be forced to walk a path where it is certain that there can be no return.

'Oh, Junior…'

It is a good thing that I am already sitting down in this wheelchair when I get my first glimpse of Johnny. Even after seven days, the sight of my partner's still and almost lifeless form on that bed is a shock to my system. I had been warned of his injuries multiple times of the last few days and hours. I have even been by his side in this very ICU more times than I care to count in the past. I have been a patient here myself. But this time is different. As I am rolled into the room, a fear that I have never felt before seizes my soul. I experience the instant realization that this time, Johnny could really die. Of course, death is and always was a possibility when a patient is sick enough to warrant a bed here in this unit. But something about this experience, this nightmare, that has changed my perspective. No longer can I ignore the possibilities when they are so blatantly thrown in my face. As quickly as those thoughts come to me, I force them back down. I will not allow myself to think like that. My partner needs all the strength he can get right now, and with my recovery secure, I will give him all of mine.

My first visit was frustratingly short. I was allowed to stay all of ten minutes before the nurse came and pushed my wheelchair out of the room, over my desperate protest. By the time I am ushered back into my bed, I know full well why my visit was so brief. Not only has just the effort of moving into and out of the wheelchair left me completely exhausted, the venture has reawakened the blinding pain that I thought I was starting to leave behind as early as a couple of days ago. Before I allow myself to give into the relaxing effects of the pain medication, I take the time to whisper a quick prayer for my partner's recovery, and more specifically, that he will still be alive when I next awake. As soon as I am able, I will be back in that cubicle in the ICU. And there I will stay until someone physically removes me.

Fortunately Dixie understands what is going through my head and my heart. After a tasteless hospital delicacy they call lunch, she secured my safe passage back to Johnny's bedside. I am not sure how she managed to accomplish it, but I stayed there the rest of the day, only returning when dinner was served. Sleep does not come easy and when it does, it is anything but restful.

My worst fear is quickly becoming a reality.

I was able to spend almost a full day with Johnny yesterday. Today marks day nine of this journey and the second full day that I have been allowed to sit with him. While the shock of my first visit was absent, the heartache from seeing him so gravely injured still remains. The time I spent out of my own bed takes its toll on me, but now I am ever so glad that I refuse to leave.

This morning, Dr. Brackett came to deliver the news that we were hoping to never hear. The liver failure is catching up to Johnny and his body is struggling to hold on. He already receiving their most aggressive therapy, so there is nothing more that the doctors can do but wait and watch. The rest of us can only hope and pray.

As I sit beside the bed, my eyes continue to drift to the erratic hear beats that dance across the monitor. I suspect that the pattern will continue to worsen with his condition. Even after nine days, the person in that bed still does not look like my best friend. My mind wants to believe that this all a bad dream that I will wake up from. My heart knows the truth though, and it is shattering with the passing moments. I can literally feel him slipping away. With all my medical training, there still isn't a single thing that I can do for him right now. I am completely helpless. Although all of our shift mates are here, I don't know that I have ever felt so alone.

By evening, Johnny is somehow still fighting. I know that he will never willing give up, but I can see no real way for him to overcome this. His system is overwhelmed. He has moved beyond the scope of medical intervention. He is on his own. But I guess that really isn't true. He has this crew. We will stand guard beside him as long as necessary.

As night falls, I can no longer hide that I have reached my physical limit and I am forced to lay down in an empty room down the hall. As before, I gave it my heartiest protest, but the powers that be won out. I would not agree to any pain medication without the expressed promise that should something change, I would immediately be awakened. My depression fuels my exhaustion and I am forced to give into it. Once again, I fall asleep praying that Johnny will still be alive when I next open my eyes.

Apparently during my slumber, the divine intervention that we were seeking arrived. As I pry my eyelids apart, I notice the light streaming into the room. I guess that means that I slept through the night. I instantly wonder why no one has come to wake me. I reach to throw the blanket off of my legs when I realize that I am not alone in the room. Dr. Brackett is sitting across from me. I am not sure what to make of his presence. I cannot read his face. Before I can ask the question, he gives me the answer.

"He is still alive. While there hasn't been much improvement, there has been some stabilization, and he is certainly no worse. We will continue to run tests throughout the day, but I think he has turned the corner. That partner of yours never ceases to amaze me. I honestly thought he would have been gone before nightfall, but once again, he proved me wrong. This is one time that I don't mind being wrong, not in the slightest."

I pause as my feet reach the floor, making sure that my shaking legs will support me. My heart went from nearly frozen with fear to racing with anticipation in a matter of seconds as Dr. Brackett relayed the news.

"Can I see him?"

"Of course. Let's go"

And so we went. Even though he looks almost the same as he did last night, I can finally see my partner in that bed. But, I now know with all my heart that he is going survive this nightmare, and the pain of seeing him so sick slowly fades away.

It seems that we have gotten another of the miracles that I am sure that we all prayed for multiple times in the past two weeks. Johnny is awake. And talking, though he remembers nothing from that day. I am reluctant to try to remind him. Other than the physical weakness from his prolonged inactivity and the expected pain from his injuries, he is perfectly fine. The doctors have yet to find any evidence of permanent damage from his near brush with death still just days ago. While he is definitely in for a long convalescence, there is no reason to believe that he won't eventually be back to his old self in the squad. I almost can't fathom the turn around that I have witnessed. In the span of only a few days, we have moved from the depths of despair to a mountain top of hope and joy. We are no longer waiting for a comeback. It is already here.

I can't believe that it has been nearly a month since Johnny and I were caught in that building explosion. While even I am still sporting the evidence of my injuries, Johnny is just now being released from the hospital. It took two weeks for him just to be able to breathe on his own and return to full consciousness. I, on the other hand, was officially discharged ten days after the explosion, the morning after those darkest hours. Even with my release, I seldom left the hospital. I was afraid of a repeat performance. Fortunately, it never came. Things have steadily improved since then. To be honest, I am surprised that Dr. Brackett is even considering releasing Johnny this quickly. But, he knows firsthand how far Johnny has come over the last few weeks. So who am I to question his newest prescription? He is really leaving the hospital today. I am going to keep repeating that to myself until I truly believe it. I bet Chet even awoke with a smile on his facing this morning. I know that I sure did.

It seems like only yesterday that we began this difficult journey. Those first few days were certainly painful, and not just physically. Just as things seemed to be marginally better, they turned so quickly. In what felt like an instant, we were so frighteningly close to losing Johnny. The problem with his liver had taken a tremendous toll on his body. He was literally dying before our eyes and there wasn't a single thing that anyone could do about it, not even the doctors. I have never dealt with losing at anything very well. It is even harder to lose a patient. But, it was sheer torture to watch my best friend struggle for life while hanging so perilously close to death.

As low as our emotions were in those days, they are that high today. Johnny is certainly not one hundred percent healed yet and it will be a long time before he is, but this is a milestone. I still can't believe how quickly agreed to stay at my house for the foreseeable future until he can take care of himself on his own. He really didn't put up much of a fight. I guess he did not have very many choices. He could stay with me or one of the other guys from the station, or stay in the hospital. Those last one was certainly never an option in Johnny's mind. While I am not really surprised that he picked me over the other guys, as we are partners after all, I am still honored.

What was that saying when those guys landed on the moon a few years ago? "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." Well, this is one small step toward Johnny's physical recovery and one giant leap toward everyone's recovery from this near tragedy. Though not everyone on our shift can show the scars from physical injury, no one escaped the mental and emotional trauma.

So, today, after six long months, we are all back together again. It is a day we have all looked forward to with great anticipation. After a long string of temporary partners, I can't wait to have my real partner and best friend beside me in the squad once again. It always feels wrong when he isn't there. I am ready for things to finally feel right again.

I still have very little recollection of the events that occurred that morning and the same is true for Johnny. I suppose that is for the best. We can't fear a repeat of something we can't remember.

We were fortunate that day. We paid a heavy price. We fought together. But more importantly, we won that day. We won't always be together. Some will move up, some will move around, and some may move away, but we will always be friends. This trying time has only served to bring us closer together.

END

Thanks for reading.

Hopefully you didn't feel like you were just reading the other story all over again. I attempted to keep the timing and flow consistent with the other story. However, there may be mistakes. Feel free to comment (or send me a message), good or bad. I like honesty.