Manny's Refuge


Manny's Refuge ambulance man stories

victormbaca I witness, therefore I write
Autoplay OFF   •   a month ago
Like two weeds scratching an existence in desert sand, Manny and Rachel find each other and take root downtown. (continuing from Rachel's Aftermath)

Manny's Refuge

We share a factory loft. A dingy place, but the rent's cheap and it cleaned up pretty good. I really enjoy my housewarming present from Rachel, a St. Bernard's rescue pack. There's a small baggie with Rachel's hand-rolled joints stashed inside.

I work down the street, on the city rescue ambulance. Trauma pack stuff. Fights and ODs are the general rule and doing even one 24 hour shift will make you want to sleep for a week.

The most I ever did was a straight 30 days of back-to-back 24s, just to see if I could, and it damned near killed me.

I worked all day, all night. It was like a drug; endless shifts at undermanned stations. I just plowed in with a a steady hand, hooked on the work. We got a whole alphabet of troubles, CPR, ODs,TCs and lots of B.S. Adrenalin is a hard addiction.

Going off-duty, I'd sleep at home. Rachel would gently remind me to turn on my other side- every 2 hours. So I wouldn't get bedsores. We always laughed over that one.

Most of the first day I was fairly unconscious. Black sleep, lots of dreams. Nightmares. Even Rachel's passionate caterwauling didn't arouse a response inside my dead brain.

I remembered drifting off after she log rolled me over on my back. A dream, really... ...Lying on the floor. Relaxed.

Saying, in a daze, "Rachel you have the heart of a nurse..."

The black and white nurse dream morphed into an odd alley cat dream. Out in the rain, at the corner of Figueroa and 3rd. For some reason he made me smile...intently watching as we did CPR in the alley.

The next morning, Rachel brought coffee and Winchell's doughnuts and we dined like royalty with a 5th floor view of downtown. "Hey, Rache, you still have your pistol permit?" She answered in the affirmative. "Good here's a present for you." It was a Smith & Wesson .38 Special revolver.

Rachel is ok with having a gun again. It beats being dead. Later, we grab another coffee. At a much dingier cafe than where we first met. It's right across the street from our loft.

Right now, life is good. Rachel does what she does and I do my thing too. The best thing is we watch out for each other; and however weird, we love each other, too. We hang out together whenever we can and our time together is never wasted. It works for us.

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