Tones

Enjoying the luxury of beautiful fall days in Yellowstone. Just enough crisp to the night air to snuggle deeper into the down comforter, yet not enough to close the windows entirely. The rut is on. Elk bugles echo off every surface, sometimes near, some far away. Friday night. All morning to sleep in and a lovely brunch of eggy wonderful to cook up.

Bliss

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

I commando-roll out of bed and hit the wood floor on hands and knees. Ow. Knock the radio charger down as I grab for the 'on' knob. Grabbing for the action adventure gear and a hat to slap on as the dispatcher drones, "...(garble garble) year old female, syncopal episode, incontinent at the hotel. Please acknowledge page."

"EMR acknowledging page. On the way to ambulance bay."

"Copy, 0307"

I'm still not awake. At least the dogs are quiet. Cinch up the belt, squeeze into uncomfortable shoes, mental inventory: watch, pager, radio, phone, wallet, gum, trauma shears, pen, car keys. Good to go.

Sprint up the hill in my trusty Honda. Don't really remember the drive. Code entered, door up, unplug, check around ambulance, heart monitor on board, fire it up!

"Ambulance on scene"

"On scene, copy, 0315"

Load and go.

Two medics in the back. I'm driving the hour to the hospital.

Can't hear much from the back, concentrate on not hitting, elk, deer...

...damn - nailed that skunk squarely.

Unload, up the ramp, handoff.

Pile back in the rig. Grab a drink at the stop-and-go.

Driving for home.

Drop off the medics, head up to the garage to refuel and pressure-wash skunk off the rig. Tried the orange oil degreaser, but it just barely masks the smell.

Sun's up.

Rig back to the bay, fueled, somewhat clean, plugged in, and stocked.

Back in the Honda.

Back to bed.

A perfect Saturday morning.