Perseverance (The Resident FF) by Frances51163

CHAPTER TWENTY: A Friendly Paramedic

Conrad came around and felt cold air on his face as his body moved on the bed. Bed? He opened his eyes and felt something on his shoulder. A hand. He followed the hand up and met concerned gray eyes looking down at him.

"Hey Doc. Was beginning to think you were ignoring me," 39 year old Paramedic Tom O'Donnell greeted his familiar patient.
"What ......, " Conrad raised a hand to shove the oxygen mask aside but it was caught in a firm grip.
"Now don't be doing that Doc. Hate to make more work for myself," the fourteen year veteran Paramedic caught the drivers' eyes in the rear view mirror and winked to let him know their patient was back with them.
"Where .... going?"
"Don't worry we'll be at Chastain soon."
"No!" Conrad pulled out of the grip and tried to get up causing agony in his abdomen.
"Hey now Doc what's wrong with you?" O'Donnell spoke calmly with a thick Irish accent.
"No .... Chastain."
"You don't want to go to Chastain?"
"Take me ......," Conrad paused to take some oxygen as he tried to think then lifted the mask again, "take me to Urgent ...... Care Centennial ...... Park."
"Now Doc is there something you know about Chastain that I don't?" Tom asked mildly as they continued en route.
"Please ....... Tom," Conrad pleaded with the last of his strength as blackness encroached, "take me ....... Centennial Park. Ask for Pete ...... Jameson."
"We're only a few minutes out now."
"Please .......," Conrad lapsed into unconsciousness again.

O'Donnell looked down at his patient and decided to do what he wanted knowing he would catch fire for the action but he'd handle it. Quickly telling his partner the change in plan he checked the young mans' vitals again and was relieved they were stable enough for the slightly longer journey.

The next time Conrad came around he found himself in a green curtained cubicle
and his friend from Med School was sitting on a stool beside him reading a chart, his no doubt.

"Damn," Conrad cursed as he tried to shift on the gurney.
"Well you sure know how to make an entrance," 40 year old Peter Jameson smiled and stood up, "Hannah was only saying the other night that we haven't seen you in ages and then you decide to drop in."
"Good to ... see you too Pete," Conrad smiled despite the circumstances.
"So you want to tell me why you couldn't go to Chastain?" Jameson asked as he pulled back the covers without preamble and lifted up the hospital gown to check the dressing was still clear.
"Heck spend too much time there as it is," the Resident shrugged trying to control a groan as his friend palpated his abdomen checking for any rigidity, "so what's the damage?"
"What do you remember?" Jackson pulled the gown down and pulled the sheet and blankets back up.
"Was heading home. Bumped into ..... someone then ......knife .... then nothing."
"You remember the ambulance trip?"
"No," Conrad frowned worriedly, "did I hit my head?"
"CT Scan was clear but you do have a lump on the back of your skull. Do you know what day it is?" Jackson queried as he shone a light in both eyes.
"Saturday," Conrad winced at the intrusive light, "my name is Conrad Hawkins, it's 2018 and Obama was the last president."
"How about the present President," Jameson frowned.
"Rather forget about him."
"Ha! You and me both!"
"So am I good to go?" Conrad tried to sit up.
"Stay right where you are! I haven't given you a rundown of your injuries yet and you're staying here until I say otherwise."
"Ah man!"
"Shut up and listen," Jameson sat back down on the stool and retrieved the clipboard.
"Some bedside manner you have!"
"Never said I had a bedside manner. Now in terms of the knife wound you had to go up to surgery because some of your jacket and sweater got embedded in the wound when you were attacked. There's damage to stomach muscle but luckily it wasn't more serious."
"Didn't even feel it," Conrad sighed as his eyes started to close against his will.
"Well luckily someone called an ambulance pretty quickly and they knew enough about first aid not to pull the knife out," Jameson explained ruefully, they had both seen the unintentional results of that happening, "surgery was straight forward. You're getting fluids hence the IV. I've had a script filled for antibiotics and painkillers. You need to take it easy for a few hours at least."
"I will," Conrad stated softly as his eyes won the battle.
"I'll make sure you do," Jameson stood looking down at his friend, worried because it was clear the other man was unwell if the dark circles under his eyes were any indicator.

Jameson would be on duty for the rest of the night and had left strict instructions that his friend was not to be discharged under any circumstances. He hadn't really needed to ask why the other man avoided Chastain. He remembered in Med School his friend would try to hide being unwell never admitting to having an eye problem even though it was obvious to anyone who paid attention. This time he was going to make sure his friend was taken care of properly and he had an ace up his sleeve in the form of an Irish Paramedic. O'Donnell had given him permission to use him to blackmail the younger man if he tried to leave before he was fit enough. Jameson intended to tell Conrad that the Paramedic would catch even more flack if Conrad collapsed after leaving too soon.

At the time the IV was being removed Conrad woke feeling less tired even if the pain was after increasing, which was to be expected. He had thanked the Nurse for removing the IV and was after making it into his jeans when his friend walked in.

"Wondered how long it would take you to escape," Jameson sighed as he passed over a scrub top, "your sweatshirt didn't make it."
"Thanks Pete," Conrad ducked his head as he accepted the garment.
"Lie down a minute so I can check you out."
"I'm good to go," Conrad ignored the instruction and went to put on the top when it was snatched from him, "hey!"
"Lie down."
"Ah hell!" the fair haired man sat down on the gurney first then carefully lay back.
"So you know the drill. Keep the wound dressed. Don't get it wet. You never asked but we put in staples rather than sutures. Want to know how many?" Jameson carefully palpated his patients' abdomen glad to find it soft.
"Not really."
"Thirty," Jameson carried on regardless, "I assume you have enough sterile wipes at home but I'm giving you some extra anyway, along with dressings."
"Thanks," Conrad stifled a wince as his friend helped him sit up and swing his legs off the gurney.
"No problem. You know what you need to do," Jameson pulled a syringe out of his pocket, "now where do you want this?"
"What is it?" Conrad frowned.
"Tetanus shot."
"It's okay. I'm up to date."
"Alright," Jameson put down the syringe, "come on I'll drop you home."
"It's okay. Prefer to walk."
"I'm bringing you home. Want to be sure you get there in one piece."
"There's no need."
"You remember the ambulance trip yet?"
"Yeah."
"Tom is going to have enough to deal with besides you collapsing on the street."
"Ah man! I didn't ....... mean ...,"
"Hey, hey Conrad it's okay," Jameson quickly tried to calm the flustered younger man, "listen to me Conrad. He'll be okay."
"I shouldn't .... have asked him. Wasn't thinking straight," the Resident confessed in obvious embarrassment.
"Nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You were just after being stabbed. It's okay. You know Tom could talk his way out of a straight jacket!" Jameson said lightly to ease the tension.
"I need to talk to him."
"You will, later on. Now come on. We can catch up over breakfast on the way."
"You're way too cheerful coming off a night shift," Conrad groused as they walked out.

tbc