appear to be running around just fine, unless the patient is inside the cabin. They hurry over to the ambulance as soon as Adam comes to a stop.
“Back up, okay?” Adam commands as he tries to open the door they’re already hanging off of. Why aren’t the adults yelling at them to get down? Don’t they care that their children are getting in the way?
Clearly perturbed, he rolls up the windows and hits the automatic locks as soon as our feet hit the ground. All we need are these kids climbing through the ambulance while we’re inside the cabin attending to the victim. Adam takes the lead and I follow in his wake. Many of the adults don’t look too happy to see me. And I have a pretty good idea why.
“We’re here for the child who was bitten. Can you direct us to where he or she is?” I’ve never seen Adam so professional before. He’s not fooling around. He’s here to do a job, nothing more, nothing less.
“Well, she’s not treating him, that’s for damn sure.” A woman with a cigarette dangling from her mouth points in my direction. Here we go.
“Yeah, that’s right. We insist on having someone who’s qualified take a look at him.” A guy with a shaggy beard moves forward, his manner threatening.
I take a step back, but Adam grabs a hold of my sleeve, urging me forward. He wants me to stand strong against this blatant show of racism, but there’s no point in arguing with people like this. They’ll never stand for a black woman touching one of their own. There’s no reasoning with them.
Since Adam’s so insistent that I accompany him, I can’t head back to the ambulance even if I have my own set of keys. But we shouldn’t antagonize this crowd. We’re clearly outnumbered and at the bottom of a gully. No ranger is going to back us up if things deteriorate. It’s about keeping the situation on an even keel. No one has to get hurt, especially me.
“Where’s the boy?” Adam isn’t playing around. His demeanor is grim, bordering on lethal.
“He’s behind the cabin waiting for you all. You certainly took your time getting here.” An elderly man chewing tobacco spits onto the ground in front of us.
Stepping around the disgusting wad, we move cautiously, ready to expect anything. The adults remain gathered out front, but a few of the kids prance along beside us. There’s an old tire fastened to a tree branch with a measure of rope. Hunkered in the middle of it is a boy whimpering and holding his arm. Standing above him is a woman in frayed denim shorts and a Dale Earnhardt t-shirt who appears to be his mother although she doesn’t look much older than me. She’s berating him while waving her finger in his face. She’s going on and on about not being able to pay for his care if there’s something seriously wrong with him.
A twig snaps underfoot, announcing our arrival, and her tirade stops abruptly. Apparently we’ve embarrassed her. Now her claws are sure to come out. Her hostility is tangible. I keep a respectful distance as Adam sets his bag down next to the boy. He studies the mother, determining whether or not she’s regained her composure.
“What happened here, little man?” Adam’s employing a classic Charlie technique of talking to the patient like a friend.
“A raccoon bit me.” He glances nervously at his mom, who throws up her hands without uttering a word.
“My name’s Adam by the way. What’s yours?” Distracting the child with a question, he stretches the boy’s arm vertically in order to examine the puncture mark.
“Joey.” He sniffles and the mom digs through the pockets of her shorts. Producing a crumpled tissue, she dabs at his nose over Adam’s head.
Crouching down, Adam carefully disinfects the wound. “Today is your lucky day, Joey. Know why?”
“Why?” Joey makes no attempt to conceal his curiosity, basking in Adam’s undivided attention.
“Because you’re going to hit the siren on the ambulance on our way to the hospital. I didn’t
“Back up, okay?” Adam commands as he tries to open the door they’re already hanging off of. Why aren’t the adults yelling at them to get down? Don’t they care that their children are getting in the way?
Clearly perturbed, he rolls up the windows and hits the automatic locks as soon as our feet hit the ground. All we need are these kids climbing through the ambulance while we’re inside the cabin attending to the victim. Adam takes the lead and I follow in his wake. Many of the adults don’t look too happy to see me. And I have a pretty good idea why.
“We’re here for the child who was bitten. Can you direct us to where he or she is?” I’ve never seen Adam so professional before. He’s not fooling around. He’s here to do a job, nothing more, nothing less.
“Well, she’s not treating him, that’s for damn sure.” A woman with a cigarette dangling from her mouth points in my direction. Here we go.
“Yeah, that’s right. We insist on having someone who’s qualified take a look at him.” A guy with a shaggy beard moves forward, his manner threatening.
I take a step back, but Adam grabs a hold of my sleeve, urging me forward. He wants me to stand strong against this blatant show of racism, but there’s no point in arguing with people like this. They’ll never stand for a black woman touching one of their own. There’s no reasoning with them.
Since Adam’s so insistent that I accompany him, I can’t head back to the ambulance even if I have my own set of keys. But we shouldn’t antagonize this crowd. We’re clearly outnumbered and at the bottom of a gully. No ranger is going to back us up if things deteriorate. It’s about keeping the situation on an even keel. No one has to get hurt, especially me.
“Where’s the boy?” Adam isn’t playing around. His demeanor is grim, bordering on lethal.
“He’s behind the cabin waiting for you all. You certainly took your time getting here.” An elderly man chewing tobacco spits onto the ground in front of us.
Stepping around the disgusting wad, we move cautiously, ready to expect anything. The adults remain gathered out front, but a few of the kids prance along beside us. There’s an old tire fastened to a tree branch with a measure of rope. Hunkered in the middle of it is a boy whimpering and holding his arm. Standing above him is a woman in frayed denim shorts and a Dale Earnhardt t-shirt who appears to be his mother although she doesn’t look much older than me. She’s berating him while waving her finger in his face. She’s going on and on about not being able to pay for his care if there’s something seriously wrong with him.
A twig snaps underfoot, announcing our arrival, and her tirade stops abruptly. Apparently we’ve embarrassed her. Now her claws are sure to come out. Her hostility is tangible. I keep a respectful distance as Adam sets his bag down next to the boy. He studies the mother, determining whether or not she’s regained her composure.
“What happened here, little man?” Adam’s employing a classic Charlie technique of talking to the patient like a friend.
“A raccoon bit me.” He glances nervously at his mom, who throws up her hands without uttering a word.
“My name’s Adam by the way. What’s yours?” Distracting the child with a question, he stretches the boy’s arm vertically in order to examine the puncture mark.
“Joey.” He sniffles and the mom digs through the pockets of her shorts. Producing a crumpled tissue, she dabs at his nose over Adam’s head.
Crouching down, Adam carefully disinfects the wound. “Today is your lucky day, Joey. Know why?”
“Why?” Joey makes no attempt to conceal his curiosity, basking in Adam’s undivided attention.
“Because you’re going to hit the siren on the ambulance on our way to the hospital. I didn’t
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