E! is for…
NO…..What were you thinking? I didn't pick E is for Emergency! That would have been too easy.
E is for Easy!
"Easy there." Roy soothed placing a restraining hand on his patients straining shoulder. "You need to lie back and take it easy until we can get you to the hospital."
The unwilling patient flopped back down onto the gurney. Unhappily the man glared up at the paramedic.
"I'm fine Roy!" He snapped through clenched teeth.
Roy reached out and snagged a wrist to take his crew mate's pulse.
An eye roll and exasperated sigh were offered up from the shanghaied patient. "Oh Lord this is SO embarrassing! Just shoot me now, and put me out of my misery!"
"How's the pain?" Roy inquired while fitting the earpieces of his stethoscope into place in preparation to take a blood pressure.
Another eye roll from the man on the gurney. "Oh, it's just fine….as long as I don't think about it, move it, breathe hard or even consider using it." It was an unhappy grumble.
Roy smiled softly while completing the B.P. Slipping his stethoscope from his ears another quarry was directed at the patient.
"Is the ice pack helping any?"
"Well, I can't really feel my sack any more, and I think travel may have caused shrinkage to the product, if ya know what I mean." Griped the pained fellow.
Roy couldn't suppress a smirk in response to his friend's declaration. "Well, you just take it easy. We'll be at Rampart soon, and I'm sure the Doc's will get you fixed up in no time."
The patient squirmed on the ambulance cot. The slippery oozing slime engulfing his rear end and southern valuables squished sloppily making a smacking sucking sound as his body moved from both his squirming and the rocking of the gurney as the ambulance moved.
Roy tried desperately to keep his expression professional, pretending he hadn't heard the sounds. But one look at the other man told him both knew the oily smacking sounds hadn't been missed by either.
"I've got so much oil in my butt crack right now; I might as well get the Doc's to give me the full physical when we get there. Wouldn't need any of that KY stuff!" Stoker proclaimed wryly.
Roy turned his head away in a desperate attempt not to laugh aloud at his obviously miserable patient. When he'd sufficiently controlled his own emotions, Roy turned back to look at his patient. "Don't worry about it Mike. We'll get you cleaned up and taken care of. You just take it easy."
"Easy? Take it easy ya say?" Mike Stoker scoffed incredulously. "Well, it's Easy for you to sit there and say that. You are NOT the one lying in a puddle of vegetable oil. You are not the one whose about to have to go in and explain to the good folks at Rampart why you are being hauled in on a gurney. Oh no, I'm the dumb ass who is gonna have to tell this story!"
Roy coughed to cover a chuckle. Regaining his composure he patted his distraught patient on the shoulder. "Accidents happen Mike. Take it easy pal. Everything will be all right!"
Soon enough, the ambulance backed into the Emergency entrance of Rampart, and Mike heard the click of the door handles as the Mayrfair guys opened the back doors.
Roy closed up the drug box and rose from his seat to help slide the cot from the back of the rig.
Mike closed his eyes, gritting his teeth with a sense of impending foreboding. The men of Mayfair slid him out of the ambulance, the sliding process no doubt assisted by copious amounts of cooking oil which having saturated his slacks, his boxers, his sox, and the sheets on the cot had also dribbled down and formed several slimy puddles in the floor of their nice here to fore clean truck.
Mike looked up at George, the man hauling the end of his gurney. "Uh, sorry about the mess guys."
"No worries Stoker. Glad to have you in our rig. But uh…, next time we're in your neighborhood we'll be stopping by for a ride in your nice clean fire engine. It wouldn't be neighborly after all if we didn't return the favor." George quipped while the entourage proceeded inside the hospital, and down the corridor toward the treatment room.
"Oh thanks a lot pal!" Stoker offered. It wasn't enough he was about to have to admit the humiliating truth of why he was at Rampart, these wise acres had to add to his misery by offering to mess with his lovely gleaming red lady. "I uh….don't think the fire department let's ambulance men ride inside the apparatus fellas. Gonna have to take a rain check on your offer."
"Uh huh…likely story." George said while he helped move Mike from the ambulance cot to the treatment room table, and then looked down at his own now oil coated hands. "Well, you take it easy there then Stoker." George offered stepping up to slap Mike on the back with a now oil enrobed hand.
Stoker looked down at the new oily hand print on his shoulder with distaste. "Thanks a lot man!" He growled.
George and his partner left the room chuckling, waving their farewells to 51's usually pristinely tidy engineer. "See you around Mike." They called before the door swished shut.
"What have we got?" Called Dr. Kelly Brackett while pushing past the ambulance men to enter treatment 3.
"32 year old firefighter with injuries to his left knee." Roy succinctly reported.
The doctor reached for the towel covering Stoker's knee. When the cloth was lifted, a melted and now very bedraggled bag of what had been frozen peas slithered onto the exam table. Holding the bag of vegetables up between two fingers Dr. Brackett eyed Roy. "Peas?"
Roy grinned. "Uh, yeah Doc. They make a dandy ice pack. And since the incident occurred while Mike was preparing dinner for us, they were handy."
"What happened here?" Brackett questioned as he began to palpate Mike's knee.
"Uh…well…" Roy began, glancing reluctantly over at Mike.
Mike sighed heavily, and held up his hand to stop Roy. "I'll tell it Roy."
Brackett turned his gaze toward Mike and waited expectantly, bushy brows raised in silent questioning.
"I was making fried chicken. Well….at least I was about to. I went to the pantry and got out the cooking oil. I carried it over to the counter by the stove top so I could fill the pot I was gonna use to fry the birds. I didn't realize the 20 gallon jug of oil had a leak in it. Anyway….I had to go back to the pantry to get salt, pepper, flour…ya know, everything to cook with. I managed to miss the oil stream on the floor while I was getting all the stuff out. But….when I got almost back to the counter with my hands full, Marco asked me some question. I dropped the stuff on the counter and turned to talk to Marco. When I did, my foot slid in the oil. I started to fall and grabbed for the counter for support. My hand missed the counter top, and instead dislodged the oil from the cabinet. I went down, and the oil came 'a tumbling down after.
Then Mike mournfully gestured toward his slippery uniform. "I twisted my knee when I fell, and the entire twenty gallons of oil went everywhere."
Dixie and Brackett valiantly attempted to suppress their smirks. After all, it was unprofessional to laugh at a patient's misfortune. But the mental picture of the long lanky Mike Stoker, neat freak extraordinaire, dancing the slippery slide dance he must have before falling, and then the ensuing shower of oil which coated his neatly pressed uniform was one they couldn't avoid conjuring in their own mind's eye.
Mike couldn't help but enjoy the pair's predicament. If it had happened to someone else, he realized the slapstick like particulars of his accident would be hilarious.
"It's o.k. Doc, Ms. McCall. You can laugh. I'm sure it was pretty funny looking. The only thing that really bothers me about it is…well…I can't help but think this is an accident worthy of only one man….and I'm not that guy!"
As if perfectly timed, Johnny Gage strode into the exam room. Conversation ceased, and all eyes turned to view the newcomer.
"How's he doin'?" Johnny asked innocently.
The entire company present in the room erupted into uncontrolled laughter.
Johnny looked around stunned. "What?"
Roy, still chuckling walked over and patted his best friend on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it Junior. Mike's gonna be fine."