Rescue 1 Responding: Chapter 26, a Book by Michael Morse
Michael Morse, Author
Rescue 1 Responding: Chapter 26, a Book by Michael Morse
I’m glad I took the time to document what happens during a typical tour on an advanced life support rig in Rhode Island’s capitol city. Looking back, I can hardly believe I lived it. But I did, and now you can too. Many thanks to GoLocalProv.com for publishing the chapters of my books on a weekly basis from now until they are through. I hope that people come away from the experience with a better understanding of what their first responders do, who they are and how we do our best to hold it all together,
Enjoy the ride, and stay safe!
GET THE LATEST BREAKING NEWS HERE -- SIGN UP FOR GOLOCAL FREE DAILY EBLASTCaptain Michael Morse (ret.)
Providence Fire Department
The book is available at local bookstores and can be found HERE.
Note from the Author
Thanks to everybody who followed my story over the last year or so here at GoLocalProv, I hope you enjoyed the books, or rather, the stories of the people who call 911 and those who respond. As the book draws to a close, I take an intoxicated college student to the ER for detox, and then reminisce about a different student from an earlier chapter. Kellie, a PC student who nearly died after contracting meningitis.
“When I heard how sick Kellie actually was, after I had taken the mega dose of Cipro and was back at the station, alone in Rescue 6’s office I had what I now call a mini-meltdown. It is said that every critical incident we live through takes a little piece of our heart. We are able to keep all of the pieces stored somewhere, hoping to put everything back together some day. Kellie’s incident took a bigger part of my heart than I realized. Maybe hers was the piece that was holding the rest together. I sat in the office that night, in between Cipro furnished runs to the bathroom and wondered, after all these years, if I was going to be able to hold on for many more. Maybe it was the memory of John falling eighty feet to his death from the roof above us when we carried Kellie out, maybe it was the knowledge of my own two girl’s frail existence on this earth or maybe I had just had enough. Had she not pulled through I doubt if I would have stayed on the Rescue, I had just seen too much. While she fought for her life in a hospital room three miles from my location, I fought nausea, diarrhea and severe depression in a cramped temporary office at the Atwells Avenue Fire Station.”
Kellie’s family invited me to her graduation from Providence College. That gesture stays with me to this day, and I continue to be amazed and humbled by the opportunity I had to make an impact in so many lives.
With sincere gratitude,
Michael Morse
Providence, RI Fire Department
Captain (ret. After 25 years service) Rescue Co. 5
Chapter 26
0558 hrs. (5:58 a.m.)
The station is quiet when we return. I think our work is done. The city seems at peace. My bunk is calling me. Unfortunately, so are the citizens of Providence.
“Rescue 1 a still alarm.”
“Rescue 1, respond to 1 Washington Avenue for an intoxicated student.”
“Rescue 1, on the way.”
Mike drives toward the intoxicated student while I doze in the passenger seat. We ride for a few minutes, and then arrive on scene. Once there we are escorted by security through the lobby of the dorm toward one of the rooms on the second floor. We have brought the stretcher and fit it into the elevator.
The halls are empty, except for a security guard and us. The smell of alcohol permeates the space. The aroma must be seeping from the pores of the student body, as this is a dry campus. The kids do their share of partying on the streets and in the clubs of Providence. Our victim is face down on a bunk in one of the tiny dorm rooms. I try to wake him but he is out cold. No other students are around.
We have been through this countless times. Mike turns him on his side and gets hold of his belt. I cradle his head and lift his upper torso in tandem with Mike. We drop him onto the stretcher. Mike has an ammonia cap and puts it under the patient’s nose.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Waking him up,” he responds.
“What are you doing that for?”
“So you have somebody to talk to on the way to the hospital,” he says.
The kid shakes his head back and forth when the ammonia hits his brain. He comes around a little, and then slips back into unconsciousness. I’m glad. I hope he sleeps all the way to the Emergency Room.
We wheel him out of the dorm and into the fresh air. The morning chill revives him a little, but not for long. We put him into the truck and head toward Rhode Island Hospital. On the way I take his vital signs and find they are normal for a drunken kid his age.
Melanie is gone. The day shift has taken over the ER.
“What are you doing working on Easter?” I ask Katey as we wheel our patient in.
“The same thing as you,” she says, and then adds, “Go home, you look awful.”
She signs the report. I’m done. Mike has the truck running and takes off as soon as I sit down.
I can see the sun crack the horizon between the giant fuel tanks that line the shore. A tanker slowly makes its way down the Providence River to dock at one of the tank farms. I guess we’re not the only ones working on Easter Sunday. I can’t see it, but I feel Providence’s skyline looming behind us as we quietly travel Allens Avenue toward the station.
Vinny has just pulled his car onto the ramp. He is the same age as me, but looks much younger. Mike puts the flashing lights on and backs us into the station. I get out of the officer's seat and hand the radio over to Vinny. The torch has been passed once again.
Epilogue
He must have been sleeping; the phone rang for a long time before he picked it up.
“Hello.”
“Nado, it’s me, are you sleeping.”
“Not any more.”
“Sorry to wake you up but this is important. Do you remember that sick girl we had this morning?”
“The one from PC?”
“Yeah, her. The chief just called me. Turns out she had bacterial meningitis and we were exposed. They want us to report to Roger Williams immediately for treatment."
“Wow, it she all right?”
“They read her last rights, it doesn’t look good.”
“Shit.”
“I know. Want us to come by and get you, I’m working overtime, Rescue 6.”
“Nah, I’ll drive, it’s right around the corner."
“All right, see you there.”
Rescue 6 was added to our miniscule fleet of Advanced Life Support vehicles about a year ago. It hasn’t helped us out much, just kept the surrounding communities at bay for a little while. They still come to Providence on mutual aid in disproportionate numbers.
I snapped my phone closed and sat back in my chair, closed my eyes and let the news sink in. Earlier in the day we had responded to Providence College for a “student vomiting”. It was Tuesday morning, the day after a three-day weekend. I’d have bet the rescue that this was a call for a kid with a hangover. It took about five minutes to make the trip from the Allens Avenue Fire Station to the Providence College Campus. Renato was at the wheel as he had been for the last couple of years, filling in for Mike who left the rescue division for a spot on Engine 15 in the Mount Pleasant section of the city. I still see Mike occasionally on calls, at least he stayed on the same platoon. He’s the same, always on, always making me laugh no matter how miserable I might be.
Ladder 3 had been dispatched along with Rescue 1 and gave me their report as we turned into the campus.
“Ladder 3 to Fire Alarm, advise Rescue 6 we have a twenty year old female dizzy and disoriented, have them bring the stretcher.”
“Rescue 1, received.”
Most of the time the students are able to walk to the rescue. This kid must be pretty sick, I figured. I helped Renato get the stretcher from the back of the truck and walked toward the Health Center, located just below the dormitory where a student fell to his death a while ago. I pointed to the spot that he landed.
"That’s where the kid fell,” I said to Renato.
“I know,” he said, probably tired of me telling him again but wise enough to not to remind me that I tell him the same story every time we come to PC. That is one of the many reasons I thank the Rescue Gods every day that he was transferred to Rescue 1 a few weeks after Mike left. Sometimes things have a way of working out.
She looked sick, but then so many of them do after a long weekend. Providence College has its fair share of parties. Inside the health center Ladder 3 finished taking vital signs. Nelson, a firefighter who came on the job years ago with me and still looks a lot like Wayne Newton gave me the story.
"She's 21, started throwing up last night at midnight. No medical history, doesn't take medications and has no allergies. She seems a little confused."
Usually our college aged patients walk to the rescue, not her. Her name was Kellie, her Irish name as beautiful as her face. She tried to answer my questions but her words were garbled. I became worried about her condition; we transported her immediately to Roger Williams Hospital. Renato drove in his usual way, I never felt a bump or turn in the road. En-route Kellie started to have some seizure-like activity. As she vomited I handed her a basin. She didn't understand what it was and threw up on herself instead. She shook as I held the basin to her face, and then fell back on the stretcher when I let her go. Her eyes couldn't focus on mine. I put her on a non-rebreather with high flow 02 and let her rest. I felt that her skin was cool and damp as I swept the hair from her eyes.
The nurse at the hospital took my report and immediately got her into a room where the Doctor on call saw her. I heard them mention a bleed as I washed the sweat and vomit from my hands. I had just taken off my gloves to do the report when she got sick. Five people were working on Kellie as I left. The Doctor said it is probably a head bleed from an injury or meningitis. Rather than a head bleed, I hoped it was meningitis and whatever got on me had been washed away.
The chief called at 2200 hrs and told me to report to Roger Williams Medical Center. Kellie had bacterial meningitis and we were exposed. I had hoped she didn't have a bleed in her brain but I never expected this. Viral meningitis is bad, but not deadly. Bacterial meningitis kills. It seems every year I read in the paper some poor kid who came to college and caught this bacterium somehow and died. Kellie's family was with her in the Intensive Care Unit. She was intubated and fighting the infection, but was in critical condition. I had to wait until morning to see if she would live or die. As for me, I took a big dose of Cipro and let it work. The medicine made me sick, but not as bad as Kellie. I stayed on duty until the morning, poking my head into Kellie’s room whenever I had the chance.
After a long couple of days I got word that Kellie might pull through. She had been extubated and woke up for a little while . She knew who she was and where she was but wasn't quite sure what had happened. She was lucky. Her roommates made her seek medical attention instead of going to sleep, which is what she wanted to do. The infection was caught before doing irreparable damage. Six firefighters and about forty staff and students were given antibiotics as a precaution. Her roommates saved her life. I love a happy ending and hoped things continued to improve.
As things turned out, things did improve. After multiple seizures and days of uncertainty, then weeks in bed, then months in therapy Kellie made a full recovery.
One day, months later I found an envelope addressed to me in the top drawer of my desk at Rescue 1. It was from Kellie’s family, thanking me for my part in saving their daughter and sister’s life. I must have read the note inside the card a hundred times, then a few more. This job has the strangest way of grabbing you by the throat when you least expect it. When I heard how sick Kellie actually was, after I had taken the mega dose of Cipro and was back at the station, alone in Rescue 6’s office I had what I now call a mini-meltdown.
It is said that every critical incident we live through takes a little piece of our heart. We are able to keep all of the pieces stored somewhere, hoping to put everything back together some day. Kellie’s incident took a bigger part of my heart than I realized. Maybe hers was the piece that was holding the rest together. I sat in the office that night, in between Cipro furnished runs to the bathroom and wondered, after all these years, if I was going to be able to hold on for many more. Maybe it was the memory of John falling eighty feet to his death from the roof above us when we carried Kellie out, maybe it was the knowledge of my own two girl’s frail existence on this earth or maybe I had just had enough. Had she not pulled through I doubt if I would have stayed on the Rescue, I had just seen too much. While she fought for her life in a hospital room three miles from my location, I fought nausea, diarrhea and severe depression in a cramped temporary office at the Atwells Avenue Fire Station.
I can’t say that I prayed to God or the rescue gods or even asked for any intervention at all; I will say that by night's end, I managed to sort things out enough to let it all go and let nature, or whatever, run its course.
I met Kellie and her family on her graduation day from Providence College. She’s going to be a teacher.
She’s off to a great start.
