The Beached Whale is Carted Away

Fortunately my cell phone is in my pocket and not crushed. I call Hilary, and tell her I have a problem. She needs to come get the dogs.

After she drives over, we discuss my situation, not that there is much to discuss. She puts the dogs in the car. I’m another story. It’s apparent that no one person is going to be able to get me up. We decide, reluctantly, to call for help.

To this point I am lying on a dark lawn on a dark street. No one has noticed what has happened, I like that. No need to call attention to my predicament. 911 would change all that and I really don't want that to happen. The emergency room entrance at Delaware County Memorial Hospital (DCMH) is all of maybe 1000 feet away, all downhill. Surely I can avoid an ambulance. Slowly, but surely, my thick and totally undamaged head realizes that it was either 911 or a new career as large lawn ornament.

Hilary takes the dogs home and I call 911. They say help would be right over. A couple of minutes later an ambulance and two police cars appear. All had their spotlights on and in their really bright glare my anonymity vanishes. At least they didn't use their sirens. The neighbors hurry out to see the show.

The paramedics are great. Its clear that my leg isn’t badly broken and I have no injuries that require immediate medical attention. The problem is how to get me up. I’m on the extra-large side. One paramedic weighs 105 pounds and the other weighs 140 or so. I outweigh the pair of them and my right leg is a dead weight. With their help, I try to stand up or crawl so I can sit/lie on the gurney they pull over. No go. They decide on a body board and a straight lift. I scoff.

Foolishly as it turns out. They bring the board over, drag me on to it, and firmly strap me to it. Then they move to either end. A large policeman offers to help, but they say they have it under control. And they do. The smaller person lifts the foot end and the larger person lifts the head end and without much rocking I am deposited on the gurney.

The ambulance doors close and we’re off on the 1/4-mile run to DCMH. This is my first conscious ambulance ride and I am very curious about all I can see. The ride is too short.