An Ambulance Ride

“What is going on out there? I feel like I’m dying! Can’t they hurry it up!!”

“It’s the ambulance driver. They’re afraid to back down the driveway. Said I’d back it down but now they’ve called for another backup.”

I’d woken usual time, 5AM to quarter past, laid there thinking for a few minutes as I normally do, put my legs over, and started to stand. Dizzy. Really dizzy. Off balance. Tried to walk and kept going off sideways. Finally, carefully, made it to the doorway holding on to whatever happened along the way. “What the hell was going on?” Thought maybe I’d sat up overly quick. Stood for a minute or so, then holding on wherever I could, made it to the bathroom and the hopper. Balance seemed to settle down so I eased to the shower, then back to bed and laid down again...uh oh..sweats, then shakes came on in a big way. Called AJ as I headed back to bathroom and de-hydration slipped into full gear. I could not straighten up. Had one hand on the floor-level radiator, bent double.

“Call an ambulance. Something’s radically wrong!!”

We waited. AJ stood outside ready to assist if necessary. Finally, after what seemed forever and was not more than 15-20 minutes, I heard “they’re here.” And then the fun began. Single attendant driving the ambulance and couldn’t or just didn’t know how to back down the hill to our adjoining patio. Long delay until next ambulance and three guys arrive and they now drive down, blocking #1 from going out. All the while I’m yelling from the hopper, still physically unable to straighten or get up, still just able to keep head from falling against the floor. Bad pain.

The new guys, or so I’m told later, bring a gurney down and of course that ends up on the patio because there’s no way, unless kept in a folded configuration, they could ever fit it through camp’s narrow entry nor folded, squeeze into our “boat sized bathroom”... Conference. What do we do now now? Discussion ensues on how we might get the patient off the hopper, around the corner, down the mini-hall, out the back door, across the 4' deck and onto the gurney.

By this time, I’m in no mood or shape for a three stooges act and am pleading to send one guy in, do a frontal bear hug to lift, turn and with another lifting at my back, semi-waltz me outside: which with minor variation was finally accomplished and they slid me onto the waiting gurney drawn head up to the porch. Attendant(s) going back over the railing to keep Mr. Gurney from rolling away. And then “Phase Two” is accomplished...getting to the end of the patio.

Two new conundrums have surfaced. Which ambulance should we take, and how do we get Mr. Wilbur and Mr. Gurney up the 30 feet to whichever ambulance is chosen for this historic event. One attendant speaks to the original and says, “You were first on scene, it’s your call.”

No decision forthcoming. We wait. Someone finally takes charge. “Let’s take the upper ambulance.” He’s in charge.

We start up the hill. Half-carried. Wheels carrying half load finding whatever rocks and bumps they can and instead of upper ambulance I’m loaded into lower with remark, “This is far enough.” And this child is wondering if someone doesn’t get this right I’m going sailing out the back with the next stop... “THE LAKE.”

Loaded. Secured. #2 ambulance moved. New driver decision. We start up the camp road which I now learn after some 70 years is not all that straight nor even as smooth as I’d always thought. Latest nightmare is Mr. Gurney disconnected and becoming a 360 deg. pinball with yours truly attached. Driver “had the hammer down” and I devised a couple of new prayers to the “Almighty” keeper of good and bad, before we reached pavement.

By this time, as I vaguely recall, I’d been given some form of fluid and begun to feel a tad better. Two attendants were in back with me and a discussion begins over which code to use as regarded whether siren should be left on or just used going through the town of Somesville or only, perhaps, when driver got behind traffic. As I say, I was beginning to come around and started to gather some rather poignant mental notes. This was too good to be true.

Siren decision made: leave on full time. We’re passing any and every vehicle we come upon, and attendant to my left who’s now buckled in as well says to attendant on my right “What’s in those doors by you? I’ve never opened those before?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Right attendant says, “I’ll open one up and we’ll see.”

“There’s some bags in this one,” and brings one out.

Left attendant says, “Oh. That’s one of those heart monitors. I’ve never used one before. Open it up and we’ll try it out.”

Right opens bag, passes it over, left holds it over my now bare chest with all these cords and mini hoses hanging down and with right’s assistance begins to place and push the adhesive binding apparati into semblance of order.

Now, I inherited a fairly hairy body, chest being prime example. Adhesives have a reluctance to stick well in process of making any sense. So right attendant says, “I guess we’re going to have to shave the spots,” and begins to rummage in the bin(s) for a razor. Finding one sealed in plastic/rubber, unfolds and begins fearfully attacking prescribed areas, removing with each stroke “a little dab’le do ya,” while left, ripping and tearing more hair, tries the adhesive location routine again. I’m just sober enough to imagine what this concoction will feel like coming off. Someone finds a reading.....My heart is beating!!!!!.....Thanks be to.....Someone, Somewhere, Somehow.

We roll into Bar Harbor. I’m feeling and placing every curve and semi-stop as we pull into my Dad the Doctor’s old workplace. New Gurney’s waiting. Re-hydration is waiting. Original Heart Monitor is ripped off with “mucho” hair and uncomfortability. Chest is strategically shaved again, stroking more area. I begin the two day stay for recovery from what was never to my knowledge, diagnosed.

And...for all the dialogue, the travel from lake to Bar Harbor Hospital, my most sincere thank you to both ambulance groups and hospital staff. I hope you stick with your training. We need you.

• R E C I P E •

It’s blueberry time again in Maine. Perhaps a break from those delicious Blueberry Pies might be in order with a Blueberry Nut Bread.

2 c. flour
½ c. chopped nuts
¼ t. salt
2 eggs, well beaten
1 t. baking powder
1 c. milk
1 c. sugar
3 T. oil
1 c. “wild” blueberries

Sift together flour, salt, baking powder, and sugar. Add berries and nuts. Then combine the eggs, milk and oil and stir just to moisten. Pour into a wax paper lined 9x5x3 inch loaf pan and let stand 20 minutes while preheating oven to 350 deg. Bake one (1) hour or until done. h

Fun thing is, at age 75, enjoying the hell out of putting words on paper, I’ve got all these boxes of pictures, and memories to sort through that there’s this niggle surfacing for a book(s). I’m just not sure if I’ll live long enough to wade through the memories, the friends, the journals, and the letters to produce anything coherent. I loved it all.