Ok, for just a minute, I’m going to write about Rod… My partner, both on the job and off. Yeah, I know I risk his wrath by writing this, but that’s ok… At least I’m alive to see it. Rod keeps me going. He makes the world ok when I just want to give up. On days like today, when I feel that nothing in this world has any purpose, any reason, any hope, Rod is there to remind me just how wrong I am… I don’t often like being wrong.
It’s been a stressful day so far, and my pain is sky high. Stupid ass me forgot to put my meds in my pack before coming into work, so I had to saunter into work…Medless. Not good. Of course, after working on a 17-year-old girl for an hour and being unable to save her, my pain level is sky high.
I’m sitting here, working on paperwork, when Rod comes over to me and puts his hand on the back of my neck. I can see the worry in his eyes.
“You’re not ok,” he says.
“Not really,” I reply.
He leaves for a second and then is back with a syringe. Following close on his heels is Harry, our director.
“Here, this should help,” Rod says, handing me the syringe.
“What is it?” I ask dubiously, thinking it will be toradol or some other anti-inflammatory agent that does me no good.
“Morphine,” Rod says.
“Yes, Rod here dropped a vial,” Harry said, an impish smile on his face.
“I did not!”
“Yes you did,” Harry replied, looking Rod right in the eye.
“I got it! Rod, you clumpsy fool… You dropped a vial.” I slip the needle into my upper arm and wait…
Rod really should be more careful, and I should remember my meds.
