Hardy-Har Harlin

Chapter Ten

John could tell, by the ceiling tiles, that he'd been brought to Treatment Room Three. There was an excruciating pain in his right ear. His left ear felt like it was filled with fluid and that damn, incessant high-pitched ringing was driving him to distraction. The grief and exhaustion was overwhelming. His chest was so tight, he could barely breathe. He was about two seconds away from screaming, when his breathtaking view of the ceiling tiles was suddenly obstructed by a handwritten note.

Mister Gage, my name is Jeff Perry. I'm an otologist on staff here, at Rampart. Dr. Brackett has asked me to give you an otologic evaluation. Is that okay with you?

The note was lowered.

Mister Gage gazed up at the 'last name also a first name' ear doctor and nodded, numbly.

Another note appeared, just a few minutes later.

Otoscopic examination reveals that you have suffered a tympanic membrane (TM) perforation of your right ear. The injury displays jagged edges, with blood clots, medial to the rupture. Both ears have experienced temporary threshold shifts. Hearing loss, tinnitus, otalgia, and dizziness are all symptomatic with audiovestibular injuries.

'So, I ruptured my right eardrum and I have an earache,' the patient impatiently, and silently, summarized.

More writing.

TM ruptures and temporary threshold shifts are very common injuries following blast exposure. Most tympanic membrane perforations heal spontaneously. Inferior perforations, which is what you have, are the most likely to heal spontaneously. Unfortunately, we cannot rule out traumatic brain injury (TBI), at this time. I am recommending that you be admitted.

"I have to stay?"

Dr. Perry nodded and began writing anew.

We need to begin treatment immediately. I am ordering IV antibiotics—to combat infection, steroids—to reduce acute nerve injury (oedema), and analgesics—to help you deal with any discomfort you may be experiencing. Okay?

John managed another glum, numb nod.

There wasn't an 'analgesic' in the entire hospital that would take away the pain he was currently experiencing.

A whole host of firefighters rose to their feet as Kel Brackett entered the Doctor's Lounge.

Two of the men belonged to Station 8's B-shift, five were members of Station 51's A-shift, and the remaining three were LACFD Chiefs.

Kel motioned for the men to retake their seats and then poured himself some coffee. The physician took several tentative sips of his beverage before beginning his briefing. "As you may already be aware, John has experienced a 'blast-explosive acoustic trauma'. A small tear in the tympanic membrane of his right ear. A ruptured eardrum. John's tear was not substantial enough to require surgical intervention. In fact the tear should be completely healed in about two weeks. The loss of hearing in both ears is being caused by a temporary threshold shift. A temporary threshold shift is just that. A temporary shift in the ear's auditory threshold. We also suspect that he suffered a mild concussion."

Captain Stanley exchanged an anxious glance with John's partner and then asked the question. "Will his hearing ever return to normal?"

"Dr. Perry is extremely optimistic." Brackett took a few more swallows of caffeine before continuing. "In the interim, he will have to cope with a sensitivity to loud sounds, sound distortion, dizziness, nausea, tinnitus and the mother of all earaches." The doctor stared into his coffee cup for a few somber moments. "He is also suffering from grief—over the loss of his fellow firefighters, and exhaustion—from coming off a double shift."

Roy shook his head. "They weren't just his fellow firefighters, Doc. Johnny and Rick went through the Fire Academy together. They've been close friends ever since. Johnny subs for Rick at 8's when he has to bring his wife to medical appointments. And Harlin…Johnny was an alternate groomsman at Harlin's wedding last weekend. He's got a lot of…grief…to process."

"I think I can help with that. The constant high-pitched ringing can be debilitating. 'They' claim it caused Van Gogh to cut his ears off. Blast related tinnitus can last anywhere from 48 hours to 4 weeks. I've been debating whether or not to keep him sedated until the worst of it passes, generally within a few days. You just provided me with sound grounds for the sedation."

Roy gave Brackett a grateful nod but, postponing the grieving process until his partner was well-rested was just delaying the pain.

With, or without, the delay, John Gage was gonna be in for a whole lot a' hurt.

Three days of heavy sedation later, Roy stopped by to offer his bed-ridden buddy some reassurance and comfort…and support.

DeSoto just stood there in the doorway to 283, staring.

His friend's haggard face was filled with anguish. Johnny was in so much pain it practically emanated from his pores.

Roy blinked his stinging eyes and stepped into the room. "Does that thing pick up any radio stations?"

Some of the sadness left John's eyes. "The, uh, threshold shift is dulling my hearing. And, since I have to avoid loud noises, I can't have people shouting at me. So, this thing is the solution." John motioned to the hearing aid in his left ear. "Dr. Perry says it's only temporary, though."

Roy pulled a chair up and took a seat at his pained partner's bedside.

The two friends just sat there in silence for several minutes.

Finally, Johnny cleared his tightened throat and spoke. "I ran as fast as I could."

"I've never seen you run faster," Roy reassuringly replied, his own throat threatening to close up on him. He hoped his hurting friend was finding some comfort in his presence, because he sure as hell couldn't come up with anything comforting to say.

Grief was keeping a vice-like grip on John Gage's chest. He felt it lessen its hold just a bit.

After about an hour, it had relaxed enough to allow him to sleep—without the aid of sedatives.

When John woke a few hours later, Rick and Harlin's widows were standing beside his hospital bed. "I'm sorry…I am soooo sorry. I wish I could have helped them…I so desperately wanted to help them…but there was nothing I could do…nothing anybody could do."

The women could see the pain in John's eyes and they heard it in his voice. It broke their hearts to see him hurting so and they took turns hugging the stuffings out of him.

"Oh, Johnny!" Cindy choked out. "We can still love them…remember them. The doctors told us how…severely…they'd been injured. You mustn't think of them that way. Remember them the way they were before the blast. Just a couple of goofy, fun-loving guys."

"Yeah," Jan Seeger joined in, choking back a sob herself. "And, whenever something strikes you as being particularly funny, enjoy a good laugh for them, too."

The vice-like grip on John's chest was back and it was several minutes before his throat opened enough to allow him to speak. "They…sent me back for an air-pac…ended up…saving my life."

Cindy cleared her throat. "If Rick and Harlin could see the three of us right now, we'd be on the receiving end of a couple of good, swift kicks in the a—backside. They would never want to see us so sad."

"Yeah," Jan joined in again. "So we got ourselves something. This one is yours." She picked a tissue wrapped package up from the medicine stand and passed it on to their husbands' grief-stricken friend.

John obligingly tore the tissue away.

Their group gift turned out to be a wooden plaque with a quote from Robert Louis Stevenson. Over a flame red image of a broken heart, there was the silhouette of a firefighter on bent knees, his hands clasped together and his helmeted head bowed in grief. Right beneath the picture, there was an inscription.

It is an ill business

turning to the world a smiling face

when we carry in our breast

a broken heart.

—Robert Louis Stevenson—

Chet Kelly tapped on the doorframe to 283. He didn't particularly care if John wanted to see him, he wanted to see John. Besides, he was a man on a mission.

The nurses had asked him to encourage John to start eating, so he could get rid of his IV.

John saw Chet staring down at his untouched food tray. "I don't seem to have much of an appetite."

"Can't say as I blame yah," Kelly admitted, as he came stepping into the room. "The few times I've been a guest at this establishment, the dining experience left much to be desired. I mean, let's face it. Hospital food sucks!"

So much for his mission.

Gage's eyes got a glint of amusement in them. "What d'yah say we test that statement out," he proposed and pressed his call button.

"Could you bring us about a dozen more straws and four more cartons of milk, please?" he requested of the candy-striper who responded to his room.

The girl didn't question the weird request. She was just glad to see the patient showing an interest in food.

The straws and milk arrived and the two 'statement testers' proceeded to suck up the contents of John's food tray.

Their straws kept collapsing and milk had to be added to the already 'sucky' mashed potatoes, to make them even suckier.

Their little test turned out to be a noisy endeavor. The Jell-O, in particular, caused quite a commotion.

"What is going on in here?" RN Mavis Mitchell demanded, when she came to investigate the cause for all the racket. "We can hear you clear down at the Nurses' Station." The woman saw what they'd been up to and fought back a grin. "Aren't you two a little old to be playing with your food?"

"We are not playing," her unrepentant patient quickly corrected. "We are conducting an experiment."

"Yeah. To see if hospital food really sucks."

"It does."

"Literally."

"Yeah? Well, aspiration pneumonia, from inhaling hunks of Jell-O into your lungs, sucks, too. So, stop pla—experimenting with your food, and do what I do…order some take-out. Trust me, it's safer…all the way around." The RN's wry smile escaped and her relief escalated as both fire guys—er, boys grinned back.

The day for Rick and Harlin's funeral arrived.

Kel would only allow John to leave the hospital if he agreed to medical supervision.

Roy and Dixie volunteered to 'supervise' him. The nurse even replaced John's bandage with an eye patch, so he could wear his dress cap at the funeral.

John was 'officially' released two days following the funeral and Roy offered to give him a ride over to pick up his car.

DeSoto pulled his Porsche into the parking lot behind Station 8. "Captain Stoner said the stuff in your locker is now in your car."

"Thanks for the ride and…the support."

"Anytime," Roy assured him.

The two friends exchanged some sad smiles.

John climbed out of his buddy's car and into his own. He flicked the ignition and headlights on and pulled forward.

A horrible loud rattling and clanking noise came from the rear of the Rover and he quickly killed its engine.

Roy saw John's brake lights come on and rolled his Porsche's window down, "What's wrong?"

John threw his door open. "I dunno. Sounds like my muffler's dragging." He snatched a flashlight from the glove compartment and both men got out to take a look.

They stepped up to the rear of the Rover and found several strings of tin cans and an old fireman's boot fastened to the vehicle's back bumper.

There was a white board wired above the strings. Printed across it, in big, bold, black letters was a JUST MARRIED sign. Between JUST and MARRIED, someone had scribbled the word 'ABOUT' on an angle, so that the sign now read JUST ABOUT MARRIED.

John gazed blurrily down at the prank and managed a mirthless smile. "Looks like the last hardy-har har…is on me." That said, he raised his blurry gaze to the station's back door and tried to picture Rick and Harlin standing there, doubled over in laughter. His attempt at an amused gasp came out sounding more like a sob. It was, after all, an ill business, and it was going to take a great deal of practice.

Roy didn't say a word. He just rested a hand on his hurting friend's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

'A great deal a' practice…and a whole lot a' support.'

The End

Epilogue

After two weeks, John's TM showed complete healing of the perforation and a normal hearing level—except for high (4kHz) frequencies. [The frequency range between 1.0 and 4.0 kHz are most susceptible to extensive damage following explosive acoustic trauma.*]

Dr. Perry prescribed spending some time in a quiet place and continued avoidance of any loud sounds.

So John loaded his fishing gear into his Rover and headed up to the San Gabriels for a couple of weeks of quiet time.

Milton Sandoval was charged with illegal purchase, possession, and storage of explosives, and two counts of criminal negligence and reckless endangerment resulting in death. If convicted on all charges, Sandoval could face up to fifteen years in federal prison.