A Somebody Nobody Wanted

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short fictional story based on real life events of a 911 call...

Submitted: June 17, 2008

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Submitted: June 17, 2008

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Another medical call at the Route One Motel, I thought to myself. How many does that make this week, three? And that’s just my shift, too.
Well what’s it going be this time, let me guess….overdose? Wow, why am I so negative? Or is it something else? You’d think with my history I would have some compassion.
I do! I do have compassion, but it’s just so frustrating. It’s just so simple. You got a problem with drugs, Just Say No. Ha! Listen to yourself. Remember where you came from.
Red lights and sirens, horns are blowing. Move over people don’t you know were in a hurry. I can’t believe people nowadays. They can’t hear the outside world. Well, what do you expect? Even the car commercial, as a selling point, say that their cars are so soundproof that a mother badger can’t hear a cannon blast. Move it people!
Well we finally made it. The cops are already here, but we beat the ambulance again. I knew it, another OD. Well let’s get to work. Wow! She looks so young I think as I kneel beside her to check her vital, she has none. What is it that they say, Blood goes round and round, Air goes in and out, and anything to the contrary is not good, well this is certainly not good. She’s so young, I think to myself again, and pretty too, such a waste.
What, such a waste? Now would I have thought that if she wasn’t young and pretty? Well no matter what she is she is someone’s daughter, maybe someone’s sister even or maybe she’s a mother herself. Will she be missed, or is she someone nobody wanted?
I want her. I want her to survive, if we could just bring her back. I’m still on my knees so I start to pray. Just give her one more chance.
The paramedics finally arrive. Two milligrams of Narcan, that’ll do the trick, or will it, is she too far gone?
Well we’ll have to wait to find out. The Medics want to scoop and screw. It a race now, time will tell. She is now the closest to death than someone her age should be.
We clean up the scene and I get the necessary information I need for my report. The ride back to the firehouse is quiet, far from the adrenaline rushed ride to the scene. We are now back in service and waiting for the next call. I wonder how she is doing. It kind of sucks that we usually don’t know what happens to our patients. We do our job, the medics do theirs and the hospital does theirs, but their seldom closure.
Just then the medics show up. It’s not good news. They tell us that her parents showed up though. She was somebody that somebody wanted. I call home. I talk to the wife. I ask how the girls are. They’re all right. They’re all home. They’re all safe for the night.
After I hang up I remember what I was thinking earlier on the way to the call. I feel guilty now. We did all we were supposed to do, maybe even a little more, with the prayer and all. Then why do I still feel guilty. Is it guilt? No, it’s compassion. It’s compassion and sympathy and it hurts. I usually do better with this. I usually detach myself. Then I realize its fear, as well. That could very well be me, or worse, one of my daughters, one of my somebodies that are wanted.


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