Night Call

by Kayt Peck

Like most firefighters, Eddie learned early the routine for 2 a.m. emergency pages. A tone that could wake the dead erupted from the radio on the chair beside his cot. Before that tone finished, he’d swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbed the notepad and pencil, also handy on that same chair, then headed for the adobe shed’s tiny bathroom. As he walked, the dispatcher’s voice erupted over the radio.

“NORCOM to Mora Fire. Proceed to 137 Hwy 518. Eighty-year-old male with various complications. Caregiver requests assistance.”

Eddie wrote the location on the notepad then peed as fast as he could, knowing it would probably be his only opportunity that night. He heard his friend and mentor, Mary, when her voice crackled over the radio.

“Mora Fire direct dispatch. Mora 14 and 15 responding to station,” she said.

Eddie sighed with relief, glad that JJ and Mary were on their way. He returned to the chair beside the cot, picking up his own radio and keying the mic. “Mora 29 responding to station,” he said.

“Copy, Mora 14, 15 and 29 responding,” dispatch said. Eddie knew that the official record of the night’s activity was already initiated at State Police area headquarters.

Their three-person team had become Mora Volunteer Fire Department’s primary emergency medical services (EMS) response team. Mary was the only fully licensed Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) with JJ her right hand as the senior Emergency Medical Responder (EMR). The paramedics with the professional ambulance service treated both women as equals, and Eddie felt proud watching the interactions. Eddie had gladly stepped into the role as primary equipment “slepper” and scribe for their team. He eagerly awaited the next series of classes at the area community college to get his own EMR license.

In less than a minute, Eddie donned his clothes from the day before, still hanging on the back of the chair. Back in Texas, he’d always tossed the day’s attire into the laundry hamper before the nightly shower and bed, but his life was drastically changed. The day’s clothes were constantly ready for an unexpected crisis in the night.

The winter night was cold as he stepped from the shed, trotting to where his car waited. As he jumped into the driver’s seat, key in hand, he saw a curtain move at Margarite’s bedroom window. Eddie smiled as he cranked the engine, knowing that a cover of prayer now followed him on the night’s mission. It wasn’t unusual for Eddie to come back from a night call to find Margarite and Rosa waiting, kitchen lights on and working together to make empanadas or a fresh batch of salsa verde. He worried that they worried, but the only solution to prevent that worry was to give it up, this new life he’d found in emergency response. That wouldn’t happen. That couldn’t happen. He felt more alive with this new calling, this work, than he had ever thought possible. JJ called it an adrenaline addiction. Maybe she was right.

The fast attack truck, which also served as the company’s primary medical response unit, was already on the concrete apron outside the station when Eddie arrived. JJ was driving, Mary in the passenger seat. From his car’s passenger seat, Eddie grabbed the EMS vest JJ had given him. He cut the car’s engine, and slammed the door behind him, shrugging the vest on as he walked the few feet to jump into the rear seat of the four-door truck. He’d barely closed the door and grabbed his seatbelt when JJ put the truck into drive, and Mary keyed the truck’s microphone.

“Mora Brush Ten leaving station with three on board,” she said.

“Copy, Brush Ten leaving station with three on board,” dispatch responded.

They ran in the night, just slightly over the speed limit with lights and no siren. Eddie already knew that JJ hated waking up the town unless absolutely necessary. 

“Car wrecks, heart attacks, and house fires … sleep be damned,” JJ once told him. “Otherwise, let folks sleep.”

Eddie pulled nitrile gloves from a pocket of his vest, noting that Mary and JJ were already wearing their gloves. Saved time on scene if they arrived already wearing standard Personal Protective Equipment (PPE). He patted at another vest pocket, making sure he had a note pad and two pens handy. His primary job would be to serve as scribe as Mary and JJ assessed the patient. He’d record times as they took vital signs and notes about the patient’s condition. He’d also be the one to retrieve any additional equipment they may need from the truck and be strong arms should a patient need to be moved, or furniture placed aside to make room for the gurney when the ambulance arrived. 

The house wasn’t far from the station, and they were there in a matter of minutes. They all jumped from the unit, leaving the lights flashing and the engine running. The professional paramedics were usually new to the area, and the flashing lights of the volunteer trucks were frequently the beacon that led the ambulance to the right location.

Mary, wearing her own EMS vest, walked directly to the house, while JJ turned to Eddie.

“It’s apparently medical, so we’ll need the assessment kit and the defibrillator. Remember where those are?” she said.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Be ready to haul butt back to the truck if we find any trauma or if we need the full CPR equipment.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

JJ trotted to the house, catching up with Mary as she got to the front door. Eddie heard the knock and Mary’s voice calling “Fire Department” as he retrieved the required items from the side compartment of the truck bed. The front door opened, and he watched as a middle-aged woman wearing medical scrubs opened the door and ushered the two women inside. She shut the door behind them, closing out the cold of the night. Eddie didn’t hesitate to open the door, unannounced, and enter with the straps from the required equipment bags slung over his shoulders.

The living room was unoccupied, and Eddie stood wondering where to go before he heard voices down a small hallway and through an open doorway. He followed the sound, then stood in the doorway, taking in the scene. 

An elderly man rested in a hospital style bed, an IV stand beside it. Eddie heard the drone of an oxygen extraction machine, one like others he’d seen in the homes of chronically ill patients. Also present was the nasal canula on the man’s face, providing that essential oxygen. Mary stood beside the bed, her fingers placed over the carotid artery in his neck, feeling for a pulse. JJ was visiting with the woman in medical scrubs, Eddie assumed she was receiving a medical update. He placed the bags on the floor, unzipping the assessment kit and removing a clipboard with patient assessment forms already attached. Since everything appeared under control, he thought he could use the forms rather than a notepad and then transfer information later. It would save time.

“What do you need?” Eddie asked Mary.

“Nothing really,” Mary answered. She motioned with her head to indicate the monitor near the bed that showed heart rate and oxygen levels.

“There’s really no need for an assessment,” the woman in scrubs said. 

JJ took her radio from her belt. “Mora 14 to Dispatch,” she said.

“Go ahead 14.”

“Please advise ambulance in route to 137 Hwy 518 that there’s no need to run code.”

“Copy 14. Convey message to ambulance no need to run code.”

Confused, Eddie looked at the man in the bed, then at JJ. “Are you sure? Looks to me like he needs more help.”

JJ smiled sadly. She raised a piece of paper for Eddie to see. “He has a DNR.”

“A what?”

“Do not resuscitate,” the woman in scrubs said. She stepped to Eddie and placed a hand on his arm. “Son, I’m a hospice nurse. I called for you because, with no family, I needed witnesses.”

Eddie felt the blood drain from his face as he looked to the man, a person who was no longer just another patient to him. “You mean, he’s dying?”

The woman’s answer was only a nod. Eddie was grateful. It was easier for him than hearing the words. He’d never seen anyone die before.

“He’s been unconscious most of the day,” the nurse said. “There are signs you grow to know in hospice work. It’s time.”

Eddie felt his knees weaken, and he dropped into the chair beside the bed. He looked around the room, truly seeing it for the first time. A wall was covered in photos. He recognized a younger face of the man in the bed, a smiling soldier in a uniform probably pre-Vietnam. Korea? Eddie wondered. A shadowbox held a triangle folded flag, medals and the rank insignia of a sergeant in the compartment below the flag. Eddie recognized the purple heart, but he knew nothing of military medals so four others were a mystery to him. A black and white wedding photo of a handsome Hispanic couple was nearby mixed with school photos of the various ages of a boy. Eddie knew he saw before him the visual history of the life of a man, a man who lay dying, so close to him that Eddie could reach out to touch him. Eddie’s gaze drifted from the wall to the unconscious man. Eddied gasped as he saw the eyes flutter open and look directly at him.

“Estevan?” the man asked in a gravely whisper. “Estas tu?”

Eddie looked at the nurse, confused. “He thinks you’re his son,” she said. “Estavan died in a car accident fifteen years ago, and Mr. Enrique’s wife died two years ago. He’s all alone.”

The man raised a shaking hand, reaching for Eddie. Eddie stood, taking the hand and holding it.

“I’m not Estevan, but I’m here for you,” he said.

Mary looked at the nurse. “A rally?” she asked.

“Yes,” the nurse answered.

A flicker of hope lit up Eddie’s eyes. “Then there’s hope?” he asked.

“No,” the woman answered. “Just, sometimes, the body wants a last farewell.”

“You have eyes like Estavan,” the man said. “Gentle, kind eyes, yet a strong hand.” The squeeze the man gave Eddie’s hand was so weak that he barely felt it. “I’ll see him soon, and my Andreica too,” he said.

His eyes closed and the hand went limp in Eddie’s grasp. A breath, a sound unlike anything Eddie had ever known escaped the man’s lips. He would later hear it called the “death rattle.” The monitor beside the bed no longer showed slow and irregular blips, but a flat red line. The machine immitted a beep, softer than what Eddie expected. He suspected the nurse had decreased the volume. 

The hospice nurse stepped to the patient’s side, turning off the machine, silencing the beep and pressing her fingers into the carotid artery. After a few seconds, she turned to the other occupants of the room.

“It’s done,” she said. “He’s not hurting anymore.”

Mary looked at her watch. “Time, 1:37 a.m.”

There was silence in the room. Eddie stood, fighting the need to shake.

JJ looked at him, compassion in her eyes. “Eddie, son. You need to write down the time of death.”

Having a task steadied him. Eddie picked up the clipboard. Because he didn’t know where else to put it, he chose a small box at the bottom of the form. He wrote, time of death, 1:37 a.m. He knew that the three-digit number would be with him forever.

JJ stepped to his side, gently taking the clipboard and pen from him. “I can fill in the rest, Eddie. Just breath, son.” She turned to the nurse. “Is there a phone in the house. Cell signal is bad here, and I need to call OMI so we can get an official death declaration. I don’t like to request that over the radio.

Eddie didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. He needed air. Turning on his heels he walked through the house, out the front door and onto the small porch. The cold air felt good as he gasped for breath. He felt a sob build in his chest until he couldn’t hold it any longer. It sounded odd as the single sound echoed through the night. He leaned on the porch rail, grasping the wood.

Almost noiselessly, JJ exited the house, gently closing the front door behind her.

“We should have done something!” Eddie said, anger in his voice as he spoke to his mentor.

“We did. You most all,” JJ answered.

“I didn’t do a damn thing!”

“The hell you didn’t. The last thing that man saw in this world was a pair of kind eyes, your eyes,” JJ responded.

“We’re supposed to save lives, not just stand like a tree stump watching them die!” He looked up at the sky. Eddie remembered the words of the old woman who’d taken him in when he had no place to go. “Abuela Margarite says you take what you’re given and make it into the best you can, like making fine jelly from bitter cherries, but how do we turn tonight into choke cherry jelly?”

“Damn it Eddie, we don’t do this job because we can save them all. Most times we do, but sometimes, we can’t. We do this job because somebody has to try.” She poked a finger at Eddie’s chest. “And you are one of those somebodies. If that ain’t choke cherry jelly, I don’t know what is.” 

JJ wiped a tear from her eye and walked to one end of the porch and back again to face Eddie. “Never told you I was in the Army, did I? Served in Iraq for two tours. The Army … the fire department … I’ve seen more death than anyone should ever have to see. I don’t know for sure what happens after death, but I think that man in there may still be hanging around, and, for this moment, we’re all the family he’s got. Later, we can grieve together as comrades, friends, soul family, but right now the job isn’t done. He needs people around him.” 

She gave Eddie’s arm a squeeze, before turning and going back inside the house. Eddie breathed deeply while looking at the night sky. A shooting star lit up a little piece of the night, and Eddie felt a renewed peace.

“Goodbye Mr. Enrique. Glad I got to meet you. Tell Estevan ‘hello’ for me, will you?”

Eddie opened the door, stepped inside and closed it behind him, a barrier against the cold of the night. His steps could be heard as he crossed the house, joining his comrades in keeping watch.