01 August 1993 - Malden, Massachusetts

Charlie and Emilie both moaned when they tasted their first forkfuls of dinner. Jeff chuckled while he watched the two women; they were eating like they’d be getting an ambulance call any second - shoveling food in madly. He could hear his drill sergeant in his head: “Eat it now, taste it later!”

“May I safely assume that you ladies like dinner?”

“You can’t ever move out now!” Emilie exclaimed between bites. “You’re gonna stay right here and be our personal chef!”

“I think Mr. Brophy might be a little upset if I don’t show up for my first day of work tomorrow.”

“Oh, Mr. Brophy will live,” Charlie mumbled, her mouth full.

“I’d like to have an EMS career before I torpedo it, Charlie. Will I see you tomorrow, do you think?”

Charlie nodded as she finished chewing. “They usually bring the new people through to see the ER during the day shift so probably, yes.”

“Wanna have a little fun?”

“Why am I nervous?” Jeff explained his idea. Charlie shook her head, casting a glance at Emilie; her partner was trying to laugh with a mouthful of food. “Such a troublemaker you are!”

“‘Troublemaker?’ Moi? Surely you’re joking?”

“No I’m not. And don’t call me ‘Shirley!’”

“Honestly, I don’t know why they’re making you ride for three weeks,” Aaron Steele commented the next day. Jeff was riding third with the crew he’d met two weeks ago when dropping off his application. “I mean, it’s not like you don’t know the job after a year full-time.”

“Well, I don’t know the area or how things are done here versus back in Springfield. But, hey, if they want to pay me to ride third, who am I to argue? I’ll get some good practice writing Brophy’s version of run reports, too.”

“Jeff, you’re about the only person we’ve had ride with us who hasn’t bitched about paperwork or having to ride third for as long as you are,” Robin Fiske commented from the back of the truck. They were letting Jeff ride in the front passenger’s seat so he could see where they were going; he’d need to drive around by himself to really learn the area.

“Guys, if I’m gonna stay in EMS, which seems pretty likely, I’ll be writing paperwork for some time anyway; it seems to be the one constant across all career fields. Even with a year’s experience I’m the FNG, plain and simple. My ride time won’t last forever and you guys can get back to your regular routine.”

“You already bought us each a coffee, so we’re not exactly about to throw you out at the next light,” Aaron chuckled. “Okay, here it is in all of its glory - Malden Hospital. We get along very well with the ER staff here. The staff upstairs can be a little pricklier, however.” Aaron parked the truck and all three piled out.

The trio walked into the ER through the ambulance entrance, each taking off their sunglasses. Robin and Aaron introduced Jeff to the staff in the ER; they were friendly but reserved around a new person.

Another nurse walked back into the main ER from the triage area. Her eyes locked on to Jeff; they bored into him. She abandoned all pretense of professionalism and strutted towards him. Jeff stared back, smirking at her. She stopped a foot from him, gazing up into his eyes.

Jeff grabbed the woman in a tight embrace. He bent her into the famous pose of the sailor kissing a woman in Times Square on VJ Day; for long seconds they kissed passionately. Her colleagues stared in shock. Aaron and Robin watched with mouths agape.

Jeff pulled back from the woman. “Anything?”

“Nope, sorry,” Charlie responded.

“Oh, well,” he muttered while he helped her stand upright, “you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“That was a pretty good kiss, I have to admit.” She looked at their audience. “What’s with them?”

“I think they’re in shock. Did you tell them you and Emilie have a new roommate?”

“Sure, but I think I forgot to tell them you were male. Did you tell the guys you’re riding with where you live?”

“Only that where I live was behind Malden Catholic in vague terms.” Jeff looked back at their respective coworkers again. “I think we broke them.”

One of Charlie’s coworkers found her voice. “Wha... ? What was that?”

“Acting!” Charlie said mimicking Jon Lovitz from Saturday Night Live‘s “Master Thespian” skit, her hand rising above her head with a flourish.

“Brilliant!” Jeff exclaimed, playing along.

“Thank you!” Charlie responded before she took a sweeping bow.

Jeff hooked a thumb at her. “We cheated a little; Charlie was the president of the drama club in high school.”

“Hey, you were pretty good just now! You’d have been a great actor back then if you’d stopped playing sports long enough!”

“Oh, a prankster, huh?” Robin asked. “I think the gloves just came off...”

The thing Jeff found he was having the most difficulty with, other than the traffic volume, was telling when he’d entered another city. While he drove around trying to learn the area, he noted how the cities blended together here; back out by Enfield the towns had defined centers, long stretches of low population density, and nice clear posted signs when crossing a town line. In Massachusetts there is no “unincorporated” land; all lands belong to a city or town. That point was driven home inside 128.

Metro Boston is home to a staggering amount of hospitals and other healthcare facilities. In addition to the six Level One trauma centers in the City of Boston there are the specialty hospitals, clinics, two VA hospitals and numerous psychiatric facilities; Harvard, Tufts and Boston University each have medical schools and partner with many surrounding hospitals for use as training grounds. North of the city nearly every municipality sported a small hospital and a number of nursing facilities; Jeff was sure the same was true to the south. He knew he’d learn them all at some point but, as someone new to the area, it was overwhelming at the moment.

Even with Brophy being based in one of the municipalities with a functioning hospital, the sheer number of cities they covered meant that Jeff transported patients to and from many of the others during his orientation. As with any combination there were places which were welcoming while others weren’t. Malden Hospital ER was by far the most welcoming of them all, which was due in large part to the performance he and Charlie’d put on his first day.

At the end of his third-ride time Jeff discovered that Robin and Aaron’s schedule was split, with Robin headed off to a schedule full of night shifts. Aaron assured him Robin was the person that idea originated with; his kids’ schedules needed someone with the schedule flexibility he was able to have. Robin’s wife worked in a bank, which are not known for overnight hours.

“What, do you want to work nights?” Aaron asked him.

“It wouldn’t be my first choice, no,” Jeff admitted.

“I’m guessing you’ll be headed to paramedic school eventually?”

“That’s what I’m thinking, within the next couple of years.”

“Depending on where you take your classes, you’ll likely have to change your schedule to accommodate them. At least they’re willing to work with you on that here; they even let employees do their field hours here if needed. Those hours don’t count as work hours, and you can’t get paid and get credit for your required skills at the same time, but people make it work.”

“It’s not like I’m not used to working and going to school.” Jeff explained his schedule during high school and once he’d left the Army.

Aaron nodded. “You’ll be used to it, that’s for sure.”

At the end of August Jeff was able to wrangle a weekend off to fulfill a promise to a friend; Jeff practiced deep breathing and calming exercises when he thought of what he’d agreed to.

The chaos that is Move-In Day in Boston can’t be accurately described to anyone who hasn’t experienced it. An estimated sixty-five to seventy percent of Boston’s rental leases turn over on September first each year. Upwards of fifty thousand students descend on the narrow and confusing streets of the city, many of them from out of town. Many move in to substandard or illegal apartments, but don’t know any better and don’t say anything. Boston’s Storrow Drive, which is off-limits to trucks, can’t accommodate vehicles taller than ten feet; this leads to more traffic jams while the police try to clear the stuck trucks on the riverfront parkway.

Jeff almost fell to his knees to give thanks that Heather found her apartment well in advance, and that it was clean and safe. He was also grateful that he’d taken the MBTA to her apartment, rather than try to drive into town. Charlie and Emilie both came with him since they weren’t working that weekend either. The three friends arrived at Heather’s building about thirty minutes before Heather and Tom Cavanaugh arrived in the rented moving truck.

Tom arrived early enough to find a parking space in front of Heather’s building; Jeff and his roommates stepped out of the coffee shop where they’d been waiting. Jeff made the introductions before he and Tom headed up to the second floor to scout the move.

“At least the staircase isn’t too bad,” Tom muttered while he looked over the apartment’s floor plan.

“Thankfully not,” Jeff said in agreement. “We can put most of Heather’s things in the front room and she can sort from there.”

“Let’s get to it. This city’s gonna be a madhouse in a few hours.”

“Could be worse. The Sox could be in the playoffs today.”

“Right. They’d have to not be terrible first.” The ‘90s looked as if they’d be lean years for the Red Sox after their success and heartbreaking collapse in 1986.

The heaviest items to move were first out of the truck - Heather’s living room and bedroom sets - having been loaded into the truck last in Greenwich. Two hours of hard work by the friends saw Heather’s things inside her one-bedroom apartment just off Commonwealth Avenue; Boston University would only be a ten minute walk away. Tom started to bid the youngsters farewell once the truck was empty.

“Grampy, we were gonna go get some lunch! We owe you that, at least!”

“Munchkin, I want to get out of this damn town before it’s gridlocked. I’ll stop at someplace outside 128 and eat, somewhere I can park that beast without a hassle. You be careful out here. And kick some tail in the classroom!”

“Grampy!”

Tom kissed his granddaughter. “You don’t need some old man hanging around. You kids go eat while everyone else is still trying to find a parking space. Jeff, good to see you again! Ladies, a pleasure.” Tom climbed into the rented truck. The four young friends waved goodbye while the truck disappeared down the narrow side street.

“Who’s hungry?” Jeff asked when they walked back into the apartment.

“Typical male,” all three women said as one, shaking their heads.

“Hey, this body takes work. It’s not my fault none of you appreciate the effort I put into maintaining it.”

“Listen, bub, we can appreciate a thoroughbred horse without buying the damn thing,” Charlie retorted.

Jeff looked pleased. “I’m a thoroughbred? I think I like that.”

“Aw geez, Charlie, now look what you did!” Heather groused. She and Charlie frowned at him, crossing their arms at the same time.

Emilie laughed while she hooked her arm through his. “Let’s go, boyfriend. We can hit that pizza place by the corner while these two look like they just bit into lemons.”

“Mais bien sûr, mademoiselle!” Jeff escorted Emilie out of the apartment while Heather and Charlie scrambled to follow.

“So how was the night?”

“Not bad, Jeff,” replied Robin Fiske. “We only did one. The truck should be good.”

“Cool, thanks. Is Aaron outside already?”

“Yeah, he got in five minutes ago; he’s checking the truck.”

“Okay, see you Friday morning.” Jeff walked out to the garage to help Aaron finish checking their assigned ambulance; they would be working Malden BLS today. Once that task was complete the two prepared to collect the coffee order for the office folks; this was something of a tradition for their shift to do. Aaron slid behind the wheel while Jeff hopped into the passenger’s seat.

Jeff felt some sort of fluid hitting his neck and running down his back. He jumped out of the truck. Looking up at the truck’s headliner, Jeff spotted the end of an IV’s drip set pointed at where he’d been sitting.

“That dirty son-of-a-bitch,” Jeff muttered while he followed the path of the IV line. It ran under the seat cover where it was connected to a one-liter bag of normal saline. Aaron finally caught on to what the problem was and began laughing.

“Oh, he got you good!”

“Yeah he did.” Jeff removed the booby trap from the seat. He next checked the vents in the dashboard to ensure there wasn’t any baby powder lurking inside, waiting for someone to turn on the air conditioner.

“So, what’s next from you?”

“Oh, no. I’ve been in a prank war, back in Springfield. Baby powder and navy blue pants don’t mix; neither does D50 on your uniform. Not a professional image.”

“Yeah, our dark green shirts and gray pants wouldn’t hide things much better,” Aaron laughed as Jeff tossed the prank’s apparatus into the trash.

He and Aaron did a few routine calls during the day. They were even able to spend a half an hour chatting with the staff in the Malden ER after one such call. Murphy, however, paid them a visit just before the end of their shift.

“Ambulance Twenty-two?” Aaron and Jeff both sighed; Aaron picked up the microphone and answered dispatch. “Twenty-two, assist Paramedic Twenty-seven on the unknown, City Apartments, six-three-zero Salem Street, apartment five-one-seven. Twenty-seven responding from the station.”

“Twenty-two, we have six-thirty Salem, apartment five-one-seven.”

“Are we going to beat them there?”

“Fifty-fifty on that; depends on the traffic. If we get there first, we’ll grab our stretcher and stuff. If they get there first, we’ll ask what they need before we go in.”

“Sounds good.”

Twenty-two pulled up to the apartments before Twenty-seven; they’d been delayed by the traffic near Malden Catholic. Aaron and Jeff loaded up their stretcher and walked to the entrance. They pressed the buzzer for apartment 517.

“¿Si?” came a voice through the speaker.

“Ambulancia, Señora,” Jeff responded. The buzzer to unlock the door sounded.

“You speak Spanish?”

“Yeah, some.”

“I should have taken that instead of French in high school,” Aaron said as they steered the stretcher into the elevator.

Five minutes later Aaron knocked on the door to apartment 517 as he turned the knob. “¡Ambulancia!” he called, remembering the word Jeff used downstairs.

“¡Si!” a voice called. “¡Aqui!” came next after a short pause.

“We’re in the right place,” Jeff said as they stepped through the door. He smiled at the woman sitting in a comfortable-looking chair. “Buenos dias, Señora.” The woman nodded at them. She was clearly having difficulty breathing and was visibly anxious. Jeff knelt next to her chair, placing his hand on her wrist; doing this gave him an immediate sense of her temperature, skin condition and pulse. “¿Ingles?”

“No Ingles.”

In Spanish he said, “Ma’am, I’m Jeff and this is my partner Aaron. Are you having trouble breathing?”

She nodded. “Carmen,” she whispered while pointing to herself. A nasal cannula sat in her nostrils, looped around her ears and ran into the corner of the room; fifty feet of tubing was connected to the cannula by an in-line connector. He patted her hand and reassured her; he also told her he’d ask yes-or-no questions as much as possible.

“Two liters?” Jeff asked pointing at her cannula, asking if her oxygen flow was set to two liters per minute. When she nodded he turned his own oxygen on, setting it to four liters per minute; he disconnected her cannula from the in-line connector before plugging it into his regulator. Aaron turned off her oxygen concentrator.

Jeff continued to assess their patient while Aaron looked for her medications; he found them in her bedroom. Carmen’s lungs were clear, though Jeff could hear diminished air movement through his stethoscope. “Carmen, does your chest feel tight?” She shook her head. “Like you can’t get enough air?” This time she nodded.

Aaron returned with a list of Carmen’s medications as well as a discharge summary. The discharge summary told them she’d recently been admitted at Malden Hospital for a flare-up of her COPD - chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.

“Carmen, do you want to go back to Malden?”

“Si,” she answered, looking more comfortable.

At this point the crew from Paramedic Twenty-seven knocked and entered the apartment. Jeff switched back to English and gave them a report on Carmen’s condition. Alan and Sue, the two paramedics, both spoke passable Spanish so Jeff didn’t need to translate very much during their treatment of Carmen.

He and Aaron helped where they could, getting Carmen settled on the stretcher; Alan and Sue packed up their equipment for the move out to the ambulance. The medics took Carmen down in the first elevator. Jeff and Aaron took the stairs carrying the extra equipment. They emerged from the building before the medics got off the elevator. They were putting their equipment away and were swapping stretchers when the medics emerged.

“You guys need a hand with anything?” Jeff asked.

“No thanks, Jeff,” Sue replied as she climbed in to her ambulance next to Carmen. “We should be okay.”

“Jeff, you’re not coming?” Carmen asked in Spanish.

“No, Carmen,” Jeff replied. “Susan and Alan are paramedics, so they can do more to help you.” Carmen looked anxious again. “Tell you what: Aaron and I are headed back to the station to go off-duty. I’ll come over to the hospital and check on you in a half-hour or so, okay? That will give them time to get you settled over there. Will the hospital be able to call someone for you?”

“My granddaughter. She’s about an hour away.”

“Okay, I’ll see you over there.” Aaron and Jeff climbed back into Ambulance Twenty-two for the ride back to the station.

“You really going over there?” Aaron asked.

“I told her I would; plus Charlie is working until seven tonight. I’ll call and see if anyone wants coffee when I head over.”

“You’re too much. And you’re fluent in Spanish, by the way. ‘Yeah, some, ‘ my ass.”

Jeff laughed. They returned to the station, cleaned and restocked the ambulance and punched out. Jeff stopped at a coffee shop and picked up the order he’d been given. Jeff walked into Malden Hospital’s ER carrying the coffee; he was greeted like the Messiah arriving.

“You are the best!” exclaimed Anne Normington, one of the other nurses.

“You think Paul might have an issue with your statement?” Jeff replied, referring to Anne’s husband.

“He doesn’t bring me coffee.”

“You’re gonna get me in trouble. Anyway, is it okay if I poke my head in on Carmen Vazquez? I told her I’d stop by.”

“She told us,” interjected Sylvia Phillips, her nurse. “She’s in Four; go on in.”

Jeff left his coffee at the nurses’ station and stuck his head through the privacy curtain. Carmen smiled and waved him in. He sat in the chair next to her bed and the two began to chat. She was doing much better, but would likely need another admission for a recurrent bronchitis. Jeff took care not to rush her while she was speaking so he didn’t make her worse again.

“Jeff, where did you learn to speak Spanish so well?”

“When I was in the Army there were a few guys who only spoke Spanish to me; that helped a lot. It was my first Spanish teacher in high school who really helped me learn how to learn languages, too. She took the time to work with me when I ran into difficulty at first. I got too hung up on trying to be perfect right away.”

“Sounds like a great teacher.”

“She was. I was disappointed to hear she’d moved on to another school while I was in the Army.”

Sylvia stuck her head through the curtain. “Mrs. Vasquez, your granddaughter is here. Okay to bring her back?”

“Si, gracias, Sylvia.”

Jeff rose from the chair. “I should go, Carmen. I’d be interfering with your family time if I stay.”

“At least stay and meet my granddaughter, Jeff.”

“Okay, Carmen, but then I’ll go. I still have dinner to make when I get home.” The curtain parted, revealing the woman who was Carmen’s granddaughter. Jeff’s eyes widened before he started laughing. “Oh, boy! I knew this was a small state, but not this small! Carmen, you remember when I told how I was lucky enough to have a great first Spanish teacher? May I introduce my teacher, your granddaughter, Isabelle Alcala?”