The paramedics arrived and immediately took over, but clearly we were fighting a losing battle.
Likely drugs.
Either an overdose or intentional.
Not going to make it.
Dejectedly, I made my way back to the rig.
Marlon stood next to Miriam grinning as though he’d teleported out of thin air.
She waspissed.
I offered her a grimace that attempted to convey both the fact our patient wasn’t going to make it, and that I felt badly she’d been stuck with Marlon.
The paramedics, with Giancarlo’s assistance, loaded the patient into the ambulance.
We all stood still until the sirens disappeared.
The older gentleman emerged from the house, trying to put on a coat.
Giancarlo stepped toward him. “Slowly, okay? Let’s get you into your jacket. Where are your keys?”
Even as Giancarlo said the words, the man pivoted and headed back into the house.
Marlon snickered.
Miriam whacked him.
Hard.
The man reemerged and Giancarlo helped him get into the car, urging him to drive slow and be safe.
We probably shouldn’t have let him drive, but we didn’t have the ability to take away his keys. At the moment, he had hope. The hard part would be when the doctors at the ER called time of death.
“Let’s go.” Miriam glared at Maron who shrugged.
I cocked an eyebrow. “How did you get here?”
“Dad gave me a ride.” He puffed his chest as if getting a ride from his father was a good thing.
Since I didn’t spot Chief now, that meant we’d be taking Marlon back to base on the rig.
He sat in the back and was on his phone the entire time—the phone that was supposed to be back at the station.
Once we had the truck backed in, I started—with Giancarlo and Miriam—to restock what equipment we’d used.
Miriam sighed. “Another one.”
I double-checked our bandages—even though we hadn’t used any. “Part of the job.”
“The part I hate.”
“Addiction sucks.” I couldn’t fault Miriam. We all struggled with the opioid crisis.
Miriam wanted legal answers.
Maybe because my mother was a nurse, I looked at the problem through the medical lens, as a disease.
