Page 2 of Dr. Alaska
Spine precautions, airway evaluation, cardiac assessment. Could she do anything to help? Sirens blared, closer now.
“Oh hell, I’m fine. I already called 911 right when I realized I wasn’t going anywhere without a tow. State trooper will be here in a while,” he groused, his lips moving within a dense salt-and-pepper beard. “Damn moose. Should’ve known. I was due. It’s been a few years since my last head-on.” Blood flowed upward from a gash at his temple, due to gravity, turning his gray hair red.
To Lee’s shock, the man unbuckled, gripped the truck frame, and heaved himself out, his leather and shearling coat scraping as he exited. She held the door and tried to steady him as he sat down at the bottom of the bank with a gutturaloof. At least he moved all extremities well. For now.
She pressed a gloved hand against the briskly bleeding injury that now ran down his face instead of up it. She tried to get him to lie down, but he waved her off until she insisted.
“Fine. For you, I’ll cooperate,” he grumped, reclining against the bank in his coat and thick snow pants.
“Don’t move. You could have other serious injuries.” With her other gloved hand, she pressed against the opposite side of his neck, creating makeshift in-line c-spine stabilization between her two hands.
The loud sirens abruptly shut off. Her ears rang in the sudden silence.
“More serious than a broken truck?” He motioned toward the steam still coming from the vehicle. “Damn near going to take forever and a fortune to get it fixed.” He grimaced, lines deepening on his leathery face, redirecting rivulets of blood now through the creases. “Who are you?” He squinted one eye as he scanned her. “Some fancy-pants state employee? I passed you a while back, driving like an old person.”
“Which one of us in the ditch, sir?”
He grunted but shot her a glare crinkled with laughter.
She made a noncommittal sound and continued her assessment. The guy talked, so he could breathe. Airway was grossly patent. No visible neck bruises or swelling. She considered other possibilities—spine damage, organ contusions, brain injury. He answered her questions with fluid speech. At least cognition remained intact.
“And I’m not government. I’m the temp—”
Two vehicle doors slammed a few feet above her. “All right. We’ll take it from here, ma’am.” A low, authoritative voice cut through the cold air.
No way was she removing pressure from the bleeding areas. Sure as heck wasn’t releasing control of his cervical spine until it was safe to do so. “No, I don’t mind helping. I can—”
The man descended the bank, stomping the heels of his thick boots into the ground to create makeshift stairs.
He gave her a curt lift of his chin. “It’s nice of you to stop, but let the trained professionals handle it, okay?”
She squinted at the man with light brown hair peeking out from under a navy Yukon Valley EMS beanie, official-looking matching cargo pants with pockets bulging with what she presumed was medical gear, a large square bag slung over one broad shoulder clad in a neon yellow high-visibility jacket. He finished off the look with a patronizing smile and nod.
“Hey,” she said, “I’m trying to stabilize his spine and limit his movement, but he isn’t cooperative.”
He paused. “Like you’ve seen on medical shows?”
What?Despite the cold, a hot flush sped through her.
She searched for a name on the front of his jacket.Steen. “You’re kidding, right?”
The EMT paused, brown eyebrows drawn together.
Then he shrugged and turned to the patient. “Bruce, you been drinking?”
No way did she wish to be the focus of this rescue, but this guy discounting her response to the scene? The brush-off stuck in her craw. At the end of the day, she didn’t care about her pride, though. This patient needed appropriate care.
“Naw,” the driver—Bruce—said. “Though I wouldn’t mind some hooch right about now.” He shifted, and Lee moved her gloved pressure on his wound with him, limiting his range of motion. “This mess”—he waved at the steaming vehicle—“is truck versus moose.” He groaned. “Aggie is going to kill me.”
“She’ll be thankful that moose didn’t decapitate you. Then she’ll read you the riot act.” The EMT glanced at his partner, who had slid down the bank to join them, and they both chuckled.
First of all, who in the world chuckled at a time like this? This guy could have died.
Second of all, Lee was happy to turn over her Good Samaritan duties to the ambulance crew, but would it kill them to give her a tiny bit of credit for initiating the man’s care?
Third of all, could a moose really decapitate someone?
The EMT winked a startling blue eye at her. Up close, she spied a few fine lines on his face, suggesting he was in his thirties, not twenties as his nimble movements and broad frame implied.
