I love you too.

The tones went off and the hair on the back of my neck went up. She was dispatching and if I were to follow the history of her pages, this was doomed to be nasty or mind-numbingly bad. Regardless, I hopped in the truck and flipped the switches. With a sigh, I headed out. The first unit was staged at the entrance to the mobile community. Lights off. Lurking. Waiting.

I shut off the truck, locked it and hopped into the ambulance. I was greeted with smiles and a smell that would make a skunk's eyes cross. Great. Not only was I waiting to either get punched or spray painted with bile, I get to baste in the smell of my partners as well.

Dispatch informed us of a safe scene and we approached. A tripod of bodies and gear, we shuffled across the ice that covered the small driveway and filed in the door. Again, my nose was assaulted with stench. This time, there was a visual of where it was coming from. The stream of his spaghetti dinner pooled under his chin on the front of his shirt. Somehow I forgot to breathe through my mouth and fought back the gag that tightened my throat.

The woman was holding his head up as he leaned back against the worn sofa. She struggled to keep his heavy, uncontrolled head in a position that would allow the rest of the contents of his stomach to flow out and not sit stagnant in the back of his throat. I gave her a smile and let her know she was doing great and that without her holding his head up, he may not be doing so well. Without breaking eye contact, I asked what her boyfriend's name was. She responded with a scoff and informed me that she would never date him. She was just a friend who came over to talk to his girlfriend, who coincidentally was currently MIA.

E drug his knuckles across the man's sternum trying to elicit any response we could get. Nothing. With a heave and more than a few grunts, we situated him on the cot. Something about moving him sent his brain cells scattering around like the flecks of plastic in a snow globe and he sputtered and coughed, sending an army of vomit chunks to invade my sleeve. My grimace was mirrored with two snickering faces. Somehow I don't think it would be so funny if it was their arm.

As I slid the needle into his pipes veins, he murmured "yugdedyew". We now have a verbal response to pain. Good to know. Slowly he started to stir and we tightened the straps around his arms. There never really is a good day to get punched in the face. Every bump we went over, his head would loll to the side and he would utter "yugdedyew". Perplexed, I asked E what the hell he just said. E shrugged and set about the paperwork again. I busied myself with an emesis bag and vitals. I can't say that I was shocked when his pupils didn't budge but instead stayed constricted as tiny black dots.

E and I were talking strategy and possible causes when he grabbed my hand. Startled I looked at him and his eyes locked into mine. "Eyesh ludd yewsh." I looked at him, I looked at E. "Did he just say what I think he said?" E just replied with an all out guffaw.

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't think E thinks of you like that."

More laughter. This time from both of us.

The closer we got to the hospital, the more alert he got. The more alert he got, the funnier everything got.

We finally decided on some Narcan for my new little friend.

Before I pushed it I looked him square in the eye and told him that if he swung at me, my very large partner that was behind him would be on him faster than he can say reindeer when I really wanted to tell him my 8.5 foot would be so far up his ass he would taste the last thing I stepped in. He blinked slowly, smiled and nodded.

As the Narcan went in he rested his head on the cot and closed his eyes. E sat at the head ready to pounce if anything seemed awry. I scooted down the bench, just out of arms reach.

Perplexed, we sat and waited. And waited some more. Finally I called his name. He opened his eyes and jumped like when someone is just falling asleep.

"Hi there, bud. How are you feeling?"

"I know you." He was now speaking clearly. Slowly, but clearly.

"Yes you do. We went to high school together. But today I am taking care of you and I have a few questions for you."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I was an asshole to you back then, wasn't I?"

"That's no matter right now. How are you feeling now?"

"Like a dumbass."

"Well, that's better than dead." My smile telling him that all he needed to worry about.

He smirked at that one. He asked the usual 'what happened' questions and I explained the last 30 minutes to him while running through the gamut of medical history questions, how many beers have you had questions and the ever popular 'what else did you take.'

He shook his head and swore up and down all he had was a few too many beers after a long day at work. His pupils betrayed him as they cheerfully dilated and constricted with the sweep of my pen light.

He knew that I knew he was lying. But there was no reason to dwell on it. In his head, I imagined the denial made it our little secret. Him, myself and my partner E. No one else needed to know of his lack of self control.

The rest of the drive in was punctuated with pleasant small talk. Discussing high school, teachers we had and life in general. Quite philosophical for an EMT and a patient still feeling the effects of his escape.

We rolled into the ED and briefed the nurse. As I turned to leave, he caught my wrist putting everyone, especially E on the defensive. His sad green eyes bore into my soul as my ears received the most heartfelt apology they had ever known.


My heart broke into a million little pieces. Underneath the scruff and sadness I saw a scared kid that never saw the way out. Never thought he had any other option.

I gave his hand a squeeze and told him he would be okay. I'm not sure if I made myself a liar. For his and his child's sake, I really hope not.