25 years ago right now, I was in a room with 5 police officers and a patient. The patient had been assaulted by her boyfriend. Most of Police Zone 5 was outside looking for him. The boyfriend threw a tire rim through the window and jumped into the room. The police officers all had their guns drawn. One yelled Get down! and opened fire through the space Id been standing in. I was still falling when the first shot went off. Im left handed. My right hand grabbed the patient and pulled her down with me without me thinking about it, sort of like Dr. Strangelove. Thats what slowed me down. Id like to think I grabbed her shoulder. I remember thinking 9.8 m/sec^2 isnt fast enough, which is pretty nerdy even by my standards. I remember the smell and color pallette of the carpet. I remember the patient trying to stand up into the gunfire, and me holding her down and shoving her over to the wall. I remember counting the shots. The official report said 3 shots out the open window. I and the four other police officers counted five. It didnt sound like on TV. I remember thinking how fake the real gunfire sounded. The patient, who had been saying she wanted to kill the boyfriend was now hollering Theyre gonna hurt him! She tried to stand up, but I was sure she would have been shot had she done so. Later, the cops told me she and I would have been shot had we stood up. I held her down, putting myself between her and the shooting. I grabbed the laryngoscope out of the first-in bag. If the boyfriend came at us, I was going to throw 4x4s at his face to distract him and hit him in the throat with the laryngoscope like it was a tiny tonfa. I knew Id die if he had any bullets left, but at least I could try to defend myself. I tried to call on the radio for help. But someone was making scratching noises to mock a supervisor, and dispatch couldnt hear me. Never found out who the immature paramedic was. Id still punch them in the face, even today. No one died. No one got shot. The only thing that was hit was a tiny bud vase on a table. It would have been an amazing shot had it been intentional. The boyfriend was handcuffed and was hollering You got the wrong guy! over and over as they hauled him out to the wagon. The patient decided to not go to the hospital. My co-worker and my paramedic student, who had been outside, showed me their face prints in the snow. They asked me if Id crapped my pants during the shooting. I said that I was so scared, I forgot. Everyone thought the joke was hysterical. I had trouble standing. I had burned off all the adrenaline my adrenal glands had, and now it was over, the only thing keeping me standing was the coffee I had at the last ER we were at. St. Francis, I think. Dispatch sent us to a fire standby in St. Clair Village clear across the city. When I got home at ~7 AM, I climbed in bed to get a bit of sleep before church. Nancy asked me how my shift was, and as I fuzzed out toward sleep. I said Nothing much; I was shot at. I found out that if you want to sleep, you dont say I was shot at to your spouse. Yeah, I was an idiot. My poor Nancy... She stood by me through all that. At church, for a prayers of the people, I wrote Thankful I wasnt hurt in the shootout. The student minister stumbled as she read that one and changed it to Thanks that Rob got through work safe last night. I hadnt put my name on it, but I guess it was obvious it was me. The student minister killed herself several years later. She was so kind and sincere. It was the most vivid Christmas ever. The colors were brighter and the smells stronger and the sounds clearer than ever. I went out shopping the day after Christmas. I bought body armor with my Christmas money. Twenty five years ago now. I cant get back to sleep now. I dont remember the street address any more.
Posted on: Wed, 24 Dec 2014 10:30:30 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015