When we pull up to the scene I look for Dally. I don't know if he'll be here, but might as well look.
My eyes land on a man in handcuffs. He seems to have calmed down if he really was attacking people. The thing about that is that he can go right back to being aggressive. We'll need to be careful.
Next to the man in handcuffs is Dally. He has a uniform on and everything. He doesn't have the hat on, though. Of course he doesn't. His hair is one of the things he is proud of. He isn't gonna cover it up with a hat.
"What do we do, Monroe?" Wayne asks me.
"We need to be wearing the correct protective equipment and then size up the scene. It needs to be safe. And then we will see if the man's airway is open. The bullet wound needs to be packed so the bleeding stops. Then we will continue with the physical evaluation and vitals." I answer. Maybe I'm showing off a little. I want him to know that I know what I am doing.
"Correct. Man, Phillup wasn't kidding. She does know what she is doing." Wayne says disappointedly. I smirk.
"Monroe, I'm putting you in charge of stopping the bleeding. Wayne, you're on vitals." Lyle orders.
"Alright." I say as I hop out of the back of the ambulance.
"Why am I always stuck on vitals? I hate doing vitals." Wayne complains quietly.
We walk over to to the man. He is sitting down on the floor so I go to kneel down next to him. Dally grabs my arm before I can.
"Monroe? What are you doing here?" Dally asks me.
"I could ask you the same thing," I say with a smile. He lets go of my arm. He gets this weird professional look on his face that I've never seen before.
"Be careful. He has been aggressive to people who talk to him." Dally tells me sternly.
"I will." I tell him. I kneel down next to the man. "Hi, my name is Monroe and I am an EMT. Would it be alright if I helped you?" I ask.
The man snaps his head up to look at me. His pupils are constricted. He has taken some kind of depressant. When he opens his mouth to speak the smell of alcohol floods my nose. I have to ignore the thought of my Dad.
"Sure. If you could give me something for the pain, that'd be great." He says. His speech is slurred. Lyle kneels next to me.
"Not you! I don't want you to touch me!" The man screams. At least his airway is open. He fights against his handcuffs and leans towards me. Dally rushes forward and I back away from him.
"Sir, I'm going to need you to calm down." I say sternly. Dally grabs him by the shoulder and pushes him back away from me. I give him a thankful smile. There is anger in his eyes.
"If you don't quit it, I'm gonna put another bullet through you. You do not touch her. Understand?" Dally spits out. The man nods his head and sits back down.
"I'm sorry." He says plainly. I look over at Lyle and Wayne. They have taken a step back.
"You might have to do everything, Monroe. He doesn't seem too keen on letting us near him." Lyle says.
"Okay." I reply. I turn back to the man. "Are you going to be corroperative or are we going to need to restrain you to the gurney?" I ask him. There is a protocol for this. This man is not in his right state of mind, which means he doesn't get to make his own medical decisions. I get to do that.
"I'll be corroperative." He says gently. I nod my head.
"What is your name, sir?" I ask.
"Harold Sherman." He answers. One of the cops scribble something down in his notebook.
"Okay, Harold, what I am going to do is stop the bleeding in your arm. Is that okay?" I ask.
"Yeah." He says. I take some gauze out of my bag and role it up. He isn't going to feel anything. He is too drunk. His mind will be numb to the pain. The only reason he wanted pain killers was so that he could get a high. I shove the gauze into the wound and wrap his arm tightly so the gauze stays inside the wound. He is bleeding heavily. Alcohol thins blood. I'm surprised he is still alert.
"Can my friend Wayne take your vitals? I promise he won't hurt you. He is a very nice man." I say. Harold looks at Wayne and back at me. He nods his head. Wayne smiles and introduces himself to Harold. I stand next to Dally.
"You never told me you where a cop," I say as I take my gloves off.
"You never told me you got a job." He tells simply.
"I was going to. At dinner. I suppose that's why you've been so tired? Lyle told me that you did night shifts." I say.
"I did. I decided to go to day shifts because I can't leave Vivian alone at night. We've had a couple of close calls with people barging into the room. I don't want her to get hurt." He tells me honestly.
I think Dally might like Vivian. He sure asks me a lot of things about what girls like. I think he may take her out on a date. I'm not sure yet, though.
"Blood pressure is 150 over 100." Wayne says out loud. Lyle writes it down. We definitely have an alcoholic or he is one some kind of depressant drug. Normal blood pressure is 120 over 80.
Once Wayne is done doing the physical exam and taking his vitals, I have Dally help Harold up. Harold struggles a little but he stops when I tell him that Dally isn't going to hurt him. We sit him on the gurney. I strap him in. Dally places the handcuffs back on Harold and attaches it to the gurney bar. I mentally groan. I'll have to put everything we do in the report later. When it comes to restraints there is a lot of legal things we need to document.
"I'm gonna ride along with ya'll if thats alright," Dally says.
"Sure. We need a police officer back there anyways. Monroe, will you stay with Harold and make sure he is alright?" Lyle asks.
"Yeah." I say. Dally and I hop into the back of the ambulance. I put on a new pair of gloves so I can replace the gauze in Harold's arm. He really is bleeding a lot.
I check Harold's blood pressure and heart rate. They have dropped considerably. I need to get more blood into him.
"Hey, Lyle? We need to get to the hospital quickly. He is losing a hole lot of blood. I think the bullet must have nicked an artery." I say.
"You know what to do?" Wayne asks.
"Of course I do." I say. I turn to Dally. "Dal, can you apply pressure?" I ask him. He hesitates for a second but ultimately decides to place his hand on the man's arm. "More pressure, Dal. Don't be afraid to push hard." I tell him. I grab a tourniquet from my bag.
"Are you sure you can do this?" Dally asks. I send him a look.
"Okay, Harold? Can you hear me?" I ask. He is going in and out of consciousness. I wrap the tourniquet around his arm and pull tightly. I keep pulling until I can see that the bleeding has stopped. I look up at the clock and write time of applying the tourniquet down. I look up at Dally.
"Dal, are you alright?" I ask. He seems kind of pale.
"Just a little light headed. I don't like blood." He explains.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot." I mumble. He smiles at me.
"I'm so proud of you, Monroe." He says.
"I'm proud of you, too. Although, I never would have thought that you would be a police officer." I say with a laugh. I take my blood soaked gloves off and throw them in a bin. He kicks my leg from under the gurney. I roll my eyes at him.