In 1977 I was recruited by the St. Bernard Sheriffs Office as a Deputy Sheriff/Emergency Medical Technician and within a week of hire, was appointed Unit Training Officer and soon afterward, Night Shift Supervisor for the EMS Division. It was my first job in law enforcement. We stayed busy. One night, my partner Boom Boom and I responded to an EMS call for service, an overdose in Village Square. A young man, and he was in bad shape. We ignored all the dope and paraphernalia scattered about in plain sight. We stabilized him and transported him to the Emergency Room at Chalmette General Hospital. Everything was routine; I was writing up the Incident Report, and a few feet away, my partner was assisting the E.R. physician and two nurses as they treated the patient. All of a sudden, all Hell broke loose. Shouting and struggling, the patient went berserk and started punching, kicking, clawing, and screaming. One nurse turned away, her uniform ripped to the waist, and the doctor fell backwards onto the floor, his eyeglasses broken, and blood streaming down his face. Then the patient jumped up, atop the treatment table, and kicked Boom Boom right in the eye; more blood. All this occurred in a very short period, and I wasted no time in getting to the berserker. He tried to kick me, but I side-stepped the kick and punched him, hard as I could, in the nuts, which toppled him backwards off the table. He was stunned for just a moment, but I was already there; I snatched him up and slammed him back atop the treatment table. Adrenalin had kicked in. I was still struggling to control the subject, and had my hands full. Suddenly, I felt a burning, stinging sensation in my back, and instantly reacted: my right elbow instinctively went back, full force, popping my attacker in the face, and I heard a thump as the person who had stabbed me hit the floor. I had knocked my attacker cold. I discovered later that it was the boys Mother. Too bad, but that was that. Shed stabbed me with a pair of medical scissors shed grabbed as she ran into the treatment room. Pandemonium reigned. My right arm started going mushy as I struggled with the guy, and I finally controlled him with my left hand wrapped around his throat. Hard. I kept the pressure on, hard as I could, until he stopped struggling. My hand would be stiff and sore for days. The doctor had gotten up and quietly informed me that I was killing his patient. I know I was, this wasnt my first time at bat in the big league. When the patient was fully unconscious, I rolled him over and handcuffed him, remembering to double-lock the cuffs. A nurse timidly approached me and asked if she could look after my prisoner, and I nodded yes. A sudden flurry of excitement as a group of nurses, technicians, and other folks crowded into the Treatment Area, tending to Boom Boom, the doctor, the nurse with the ripped uniform (she was also badly scratched), and the woman I had knocked out. No one bothered to remove the scissors protruding from my back; but it was no big deal. My Tuffy Jacket was absorbing most of the blood, and the scissors had gone in at a bad angle, mostly sliding along my backbone and not penetrating very far. I felt no pain, but I didnt like that mushy feeling in my right shoulder and arm. I called my Captain at home, to apprise him of the situation, and then I called Communications, to have them change the signal from a 24 to a 24 with a 10-15. Chalmette General refused to have anything further to do with the patient; they stabilized him and we...my Captain and I...transported him to Charity and in the morning, booked him into the St. Bernard Jail. Boom Boom took the next few days off, until he could see with his injured eye after the swelling went down. His bruises were visible nearly a month later. The Momma and her dear son threatened me with death and a huge lawsuit, the usual routine in St. Bernard (and just about everywhere else). The lawsuit never materialized, and Im still breathing...
Posted on: Tue, 20 Jan 2015 03:35:08 +0000
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