Disclaimer:  The characters of John Gage and Roy DeSoto belong to somebody else.  Not real sure who but I will find out.  I just wanted to take them out to play.

Author's note:  This story came about due to a Writer's Challenge and can be found on the page KMG365 an Emergency! E-ZINE.  Check out this great page to find fanfiction about the seventies show Emergency!

The Last Straw

by Laura Schomberg

I rubbed my eyes and yawned as I walked into the kitchen.  If it wasn't for the dogs I could have slept in this morning.  Probably would have too if I could trust a certain four-legged nuisance to contain himself until I got up.  Trust Fred Basset?  Ha!  I've never had such an ornery dog in my life.  

As I headed to the back door, two dogs following close behind, I once again asked myself why I'd ever gotten Fred in the first place.  He needed someone who could devote all their attention to him.  Unfortunately, that wasn't me.

I opened the door and Wuzzy, my red-creme Shar Pei started to head into the backyard.  Suddenly, Fred, impatient as ever, rushed forward, pushing Wuzzy out of the way and ramming into my leg.  My sock covered foot slipped out from beneath me as the basset hound ran out the door.  My other foot slid into the space between the floor and the cabinets.

I heard a loud snap and felt burning pain in my right leg as I slammed, screaming into the kitchen floor.  For a long moment I lay on the floor, my eyes closed and taking deep breaths.  The blood was roaring in my ears and I was trying not to pass out.  When I opened my eyes I saw the worried face of my Shar Pei staring down at me.  

"I broke it, didn't I?" I asked the dog, not wanting to look at my leg.  

Wuzzy whined and licked my face.  

"Are you all right?" I heard my mother say as she slowly made her way to the kitchen with the aide of her walker.  

I leaned up on one arm and took a good look at my right leg.  The leg was bent at an impossible angle just before my foot.  "No," I called back to my mom.  "Better call 9-1-1.  My leg is broken."

"Oh, dear.  Are you sure?"

I looked at my leg again.  Still bent right above the ankle.  "Yes, I'm sure."  

As my mom came into the kitchen to use the phone she looked down at me.  I heard her shuck in her breath before saying, "I'm calling them now then I'll get the door."

I just nodded and then leaned as close to the back door as possible.  My fingers were just able to catch the bottom of the door and I managed to pull it shut.  Besides wanting to keep the cats in, I desperately wanted to keep Fred out.  Knowing him, he'd just step on my leg given the chance to come back in the house.  

After shutting the door I laid back down on the floor, shutting my eyes against the pain.  I heard Wuzzy whine and sit down next to me.  Before I knew it, he had placed his head on my stomach.  I reached over and started petting him.  That simple act seemed to help ease some of the pain in my leg.  

A few minutes later I heard my mother open the door for the rescue workers.  Wuzzy picked his head up as the two men came into the room.  

"Hi, puppy," the tall, thin, dark-haired man said.  "Is he going to let us by?"

"Wuzzy," I said, pointing to the other end of the kitchen.  "Over there."  

The dog stood and nuzzled my head before heading to the area I had indicated.

"Well trained dog," the older paramedic commented.

"I just wish the other one was as well behaved."

The paramedics kneeled down on both sides of my body.  

"My name is John Gage," the first one said.  "This is my partner Roy DeSoto.  What's your name?

"Laura."

"What happened?" asked Roy as he put a BP cup around my arm.

"See that dog out there?" I asked, pointing to the back door.  Both men nodded.  "Stupid thing knocked me down.  My foot got caught."

"Ouch," John said as he put his radio together.  "Do you hurt anywhere else?"

"No."

"BP is 100 over 75," Roy told John.  "Pulse is 100.  Respirations are 30."

"Rampart, this is squad 51," John said into the microphone.

"Go ahead, 51," a disembodied voice answered.

"Rampart, we have a female approximately. . ." John paused and looked at me.

"28."

"28 years old.  She has a severe broken leg.  Just above the ankle," he told the hospital before relaying the information Roy had given him.  "Victim reports that she does not hurt anywhere else."

"51, immobilize the injured limb as it is and transport as soon as possible."

Almost at the same time as the hospital finished giving their orders, I heard the doorbell ring and my mom went to let in the ambulance attendants.

"This is going to hurt," John said.  "We don't want to straighten out the ankle in case one of the broken bones cuts an artery."

"Lord knows I don't need that," I said, trying to smile but failing.

I squeezed my eyes shut as they braced my right foot and leg.  The pain was tremendous and I couldn't stop a loud moan from escaping.  

A hand patted my shoulder and  I looked up into the dark eyes of John Gage.

 

"All done."

"Good," I whispered.

"We're going to put you on the stretcher, now," Roy told me.  He turned his attention to his partner.  "Got her leg?"  John nodded.  An ambulance attendant came over to my side.  "Careful now," Roy said as the picked me up and placed me on the stretcher.

The ambulance attendants rolled me out of the house as John and Roy gathered their equipment together.  I was being placed into the ambulance when the paramedics came out of the house.  John climbed in behind one of the attendants and Roy shut the door to the ambulance.  I heard a pounding on the door and the ambulance started out soon after.

"I'm going to kill that dog," I muttered under my breath.

"The hound?" John asked.

I nodded.

"I'm sure you'll feel differently in a day or two."

 

I hissed as the ambulance hit a bumped in the road, jarring my injured leg.  When the pain was once again manageable I said, "Well, I may not kill that dog but I'm not keeping him."

"That bad?"

"Let's just say that this was the straw that broke the camels back."

That evening I was resting comfortably in a hospital bed.  Very comfortably.  I was in no pain at all.  A orthopedic surgeon had repaired the damage to my leg earlier that afternoon.  A metal plate, fourteen screws and metal wiring were all needed to put the broken bones back together so they could heal properly.  

As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about the dark-eyed paramedic that had helped me out that morning.  

Author's note:  This event actually did happen.  It happened to my dad, though, and not to me.  His dog, the basset hound, knocked him down.  My dog, the shar pei, stayed with him until the paramedics arrived.  It did take all that metal to fix the break and my father did give Fred away soon after the accident.  Fred was the orneriest dog I've ever known.

So tell me what you think of this story Laura

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