Cool Defined

Cool Defined:
Jeff, my first steady partner

My first real job as a paramedic was in Travis County, Texas. I drove there on a rumor that someone there needed Paramedics and was willing to actually pay for
them. I drove around for a while until I spotted an ambulance parked at a convenience store and promptly grilled the cornered crew about where I might
find gainful employment. They gave me some rudimentary directions and before I knew it I was hired. My only problem was that I didn’t actually know where
I was going or, for that matter what the hell I was doing. This made life very interesting for me and untold unsuspecting paramedics for months to come.
Things usually went something like this:

Unsuspecting Medic: “Okay Dodge, I’ve pretty much got the bleeding stopped, lets go lights and sirens to Memorial Hospital”
Dodge: “Okay, great dude. Which way was that one again?”
Unsuspecting Medic: “Come again.”
Dodge: The hospital, Memorial, did you say? How do I get there from here?”
Unsuspecting Medic: curses under his breath, leans backward, an IV bag in his mouth, trying to maintain pressure on some gushing arterial bleed…”Take
a left at the stop sign…”

Needless to say, my initial attempts to acquire a regular partner were less than fruitful. Then, one day an interesting fellow came along. He had been,
at the time, a Paramedic for fifteen years or so and had just moved from Arizona. Being from out of state, his familiarity with the area was as full of
holes as mine. This bothered him not one bit. As it turned out, nothing bothered him at all, ever, as far as I could tell. Future exchanges went more like
this:

Dodge: “Hey Jeff, the enraged homicidal maniac that shot your patient is coming to the back door of the ambulance to finish the job.
Jeff: looks up from starting an IV “Okay, cool” The perpitrator opens the door, blood in his eyes. Jeff says a few words I can’t hear. The guy nods his
head, waves goodbye and steps out of the truck, politely closing the door on the way out. Jeff sits back down and continues taping his IV down. “Okay, Dodge,
I’m ready to go when you are”
Dodge: Where was that hospital again?”
Jeff: “Dunno, maps in the console, take your time.”

He was present when Rod and I committed to each other.
Jeff and I were partners for a very brief six months. During this time I think I learned more about the practice of medicine than I did in the ensuing decade.
Jeff now flies the world in a learjet, picking up wayward Americans who’ve traveled abroad and fallen sick and transporting them back to the states. He
routinely transports patients who are hanging onto life by the thinnest of threads across the Atlantic Ocean, ten hours, just him, another medic and a
bag of supplies, and I’d bet he never blinks an eye.