asked.
“Well, like I said, this happened fifteen, twenty years ago,” I began. “Right here in this ER. Johnny Gee was working in the ER that day, and he told me—”
“See!” Jeff interrupted. “You got this secondhand. I thought this was going to be something you experienced,” he said doubtfully.
“Just listen, Jeff,” I replied patiently. “You’ll see.”
2:30 p.m. It was a spring afternoon, one day in the middle of the week. Johnny Gee was the ER doctor on duty and was standing at the nurses’ station, reviewing the run report of EMS 2. The paramedics on the unit that day were Rob Freeman and Greg Hartley. They had just brought in a teenage boy who had tried to drive his four-wheeler through a pine tree. No major injuries, though, and he should be fine. Just a routine call and transport.
The whole day had been routine—nothing out of the ordinary. And that had been fine with Rob and Greg. They had been working together for a lot of years, and were both now in their early fifties.
Hartley was the more serious of the two. He was a deeply spiritual man, always calm and patient in the face of even the worst catastrophe, and never afraid to share his faith. Yet, as St. Francis of Assisi would say, he preached the gospel “without words.”
Rob Freeman, on the other hand, was a free spirit, though less so now that he was getting a little older and had two grandchildren. But still, he didn’t take many things very seriously. Certainly his job, but in spite of all their years together as EMS partners, Greg had never been able to draw Rob into a serious conversation about his beliefs. He just wasn’t interested. That didn’t make him a bad person to be around. In fact, he was one of the people best liked by the ER staff—always laughing and joking, and always ready to lend a hand wherever it was needed.
They made an interesting pair, and were two of our favorites.
On this particular day though, they had something important on their minds. It was already past two o’clock and they hadn’t had achance to get anything for lunch. There had been a series of minor calls all morning long, and now for the first time, they didn’t have anything pending.
“See you guys in a little while,” Gee said as the two were walking out of the building.
“Hope it’s not before we get something to eat,” Rob called back to him, stopping in the ambulance entrance and rubbing his less than svelte belly.
“Come on, Rob,” Greg said to his partner. “I’m hungry.”
The two men walked out under the portico of the ambulance entrance and toward their unit. Greg went around to the driver’s side and jumped in, while Rob walked to the passenger side. As if choreographed after all their years together, they settled into their cushioned but well-worn chairs, buckled their seat belts, and adjusted their side mirrors. Greg cranked up the reluctant diesel engine, and they lumbered out through the parking lot and onto Herlong Avenue.
“Where you want to get lunch?” Greg asked his partner. He was checking his side mirror, making sure no one was behind him as he got ready to move into a turn lane and onto Ebenezer Road.
Looking ahead again, he repeated, “Rob, what do you want for lunch?”
It was a simple question, one about food, which was something Rob Freeman was always interested in.
There was still no response, and when Greg glanced over to the right, he slammed on the brakes of the ambulance, causing it to swerve in the middle of the street.
Rob Freeman was sitting up in his seat, held in place by his seat belt. But his head was hanging down on his chest, rolling from side to side. His face was a dark blue, and he wasn’t breathing.
Hartley yelled at him, reached over and shook him, and instantly knew he had a decision to make. Did he stop in the street, pull his partner out of the cab, and start doing CPR? Or did he head back to the ER, a little over a minute away?
He didn’t hesitate. Switching on