"Mike, I don't know, but I think we need to get you to Rampart. Hold on and we'll get your vitals." Roy replied, as he and John both repeated their actions from earlier in the shift.

"Rampart Base, this is Rescue 51" John said into the biophone. The reply was immediate. Dr. Kelly Brackett answered, "Go ahead 51, this is Rampart Base."

"Rampart, we have a 33 year old Code I with severe epistaxis, does not respond to pressure. He had a minor one approximately 4 hours ago, that one stopped by pressure. Has no history of nosebleeds. Does not take any blood thinners or aspirin routinely. BP 110/54, pulse 116, respirations 28. Is alert and oriented times 3, pupils equal and reactive to light. No obvious signs of trauma. Be advised patient is Mike Stoker."

"10-4 51. Continue with pressure. Any nausea, vomiting, headaches, vertigo?" Dr. Brackett asked. "Negative." John answered. "Rampart, can he be transported via the squad? We're only 5 minutes from you, and ambulance ETA would be 25 minutes if we waited." John asked. "Go ahead, 51. Transport via Squad 51, ASAP. Continue with pressure. Tell Stoker NOT to swallow any blood, to spit it into an emesis basin." "10-4 Rampart. We're on our way." John said, then helped Mike to the squad, while the others helped with equipment, and Cap called into dispatch for a replacement engineer.

The ride to Rampart was quick and quiet, no one saying much, just John or Roy asking Mike if he was doing okay. Mike's answer was only nodding his head, as blood continued with its steady drip.

By the time they arrived, Mike's skin color had started to become pale. Both paramedics tried to convince their reluctant patient to sit in the wheelchair. Mike started to protest, when Head Nurse Dixie McCall walked out, surveyed the scene, and stated, "In the chair. Now." Mike meekly complied, thinking, *Who in their right mind would cross swords with THIS woman?*, as both Roy and John grinned at each other.

Ten minutes later, Mike was half undressed, (waist up), gowned, and had a new set of vitals taken. Dr. Brackett entered, looking at a thoroughly miserable Mike Stoker, sitting on the examination table.

" Well, Mike, looks like today isn't starting off too well for you. Two nosebleeds already? Did you think of anything that may have caused them? Any falls, hits to the nose, anything?" He asked, as he thoroughly examined Mike, looking up his nose with a lighted speculum. " Ah, here it is - looks like a pretty bad abrasion on the anterior portion of the nasal passage."

"Is that good or bad, Doc?" Roy asked.

" Well, that's definitely preferable to a posterior located wound. They're harder to stop the bleeding. Speaking of which, Mike, what I'm going to do is spray some numbing medicine up your nose on this right side, then take this wooden stick here, which has a medicine called Silver Nitrate on it, and essentially cauterize the wound. It won't hurt, but it may not smell too good. After about 10 to 15 seconds, I'll remove the stick, and place sterile gauze packing in there. I want to keep you overnight, then let you go home in the morning. We'll take the packing out before you go, and you can resume your regular activities. Any questions?"

Mike shook his head, clearly not pleased at his enforced incarceration at Rampart overnight, but, surprisingly discovered he was very tired all of a sudden. "Go for it, Doc. All I want to do is stop this bleeding crap and go to sleep. I'm exhausted. "

"Sure, Mike. I'm concerned with the blood loss, your pallor, and fatigue. I'm going to get blood work done on you, and put an IV in you for overnight, build up your fluids. Who knows, you might need some blood to top off your tank." Dr. Brackett replied, nodding to Dixie, when Mike interjected, "I have A Negative blood."

"Hey, so do I!" exclaimed John. "Mine's O Negative, same as Cap's, Chet's B Negative, and Marco is AB Negative." said Roy. " Hmm, not something you see too much. An entire shift with the same Rh blood factor." Dr. Brackett remarked. "Anyway, Dix, CBC, Type and cross for 2 units, Bleeding and Clotting times, PT, PTT, Chem24, U/A, IV Normal saline. Oh Mike, if you need anything for pain, or to help you sleep, call the nurses and they'll get in touch with me."

"Thanks, Dr, Brackett. Let's get this thing over and done with. John, Roy, thanks for everything."

One hour later, Mike was firmly ensconced in his bed in room 434, sleeping soundly, as his crewmates headed back to the station. Unfortunately, his sound sleep did not last for long...

*Bright glare of light on metal. Thin metal, like a needle. But, who the Hell even made a needle that big? Where's it going?" *

*Oh crap, the lights, the cold then the heat. Please, not the pressure! Why are you doing this to me? Why can't I move? Why can't I scream? WHY? *

Even though Mike Stoker's body appeared to be calmly resting, nothing could be further from the truth for his mind and soul. Finally, after what seemed like hours to Mike, he was released to the bliss of complete slumber.

The day after his discharge, as Mike made his way into the station house, a voice hailed him, "Hey, Michael! Welcome back pal! How ya feeling?" "Great, Cap! How was your day off?" He answered, as the two of them headed to the locker room. They were swiftly followed by Marco, Roy, John, and with three minutes to spare, Chet. All greeted their engineer, making sure to tell him how much they missed him behind the wheel of "Big Red".

After a fairly busy day for the whole station, The six men were tiredly hitting their bunks, hoping against hope for a night without calls.