I have been extremely blessed to have some truly awesome partners.   Some of them were fantastic teachers.  Some of them pushed me out of my comfort zone and in their own way forced me to become a teacher.  Some of them were infinitely patient with me, including parking the ambulance from the passenger’s seat when I couldn’t grasp the concept of using your mirrors.  (I despise angled back-in parking in a crowded ambulance bay!)

Some of them were a combination of all of the above.

I want to tell you about one of the best partners I’ve ever had.

We worked together a relatively short period of time, just three and a half months.  But in that time, after three years of working in EMS, I finally figured out what it was to be true partners.  To have his back and know that he had mine, both at work  and off the job.  To know that what was said in the truck stayed in the truck.  To know that if either of us ever needed anything, anything at all, that the other person would walk through fire to be sure that it happened.  No matter what time of day or night.  We could truly count on each other.  We would argue, yes, but we also laughed, long and hard, and often.  We challenged each other at times, to be better at our jobs. I knew that anything I shared with him would go no further than him, and he knew the same.

We were more than partners, we were family.

A little over a year ago he went on his way.  A better job, working less hours and making more money.  I was sad that he was leaving me, but I could hardly fault him for it.  We never lost touch.  We still hang out from time to time, and we text each other frequently.  I still think of him as family, even if he’s no longer working in EMS with me.  He is one of my best friends.

It was a week ago tomorrow that I got the news that his Grandmother had died.  The following day I received a text message asking me to be a pall bearer at the funeral.  I instantly sent him a message back, “Yes.  Anything you need, I’m there.” And I meant it.  Every word.

The funeral was yesterday.  I made arrangements for my daughter and took the day off work.  I arrived early (for once), and  I even wore a dress.  (For the record, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve worn a dress in the last five years, but I digress.)

When I got out of my car I was shocked at the turnout;  I had been worried that there wouldn’t be enough pall bearers.  Now there were too many,  they wouldn’t need me.  Out of the seven pall bearers, six of them were EMS coworkers.  Former partners.  Family.  Keep in mind that these were all guys from the last service we worked at.  Neither of us have worked there for almost a year.  These were people who knew one thing and one thing only.  One of their own needed them.  And they stepped up. 

We’re more than just the people who sign each other’s run reports.  We’re more the coworkers.  We are partners.  We are friends.  We are family.  When you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.  When one of us hurts, we will do just about anything to help out.  When one of us is going down the wrong path, the rest of us will call for an intervention.  We’ll tell each other things that we know full well the other person does NOT want to hear, but in fact needs to hear.

That is an awesome thing.  And that speaks volumes.

And I know that I am honored to be a part of such a group. 

I am honored.

You can read part 1 here.

**********

The flannel Air Force blanket she was engulfed in was plastered with images all of her favorite aircraft. From the sexy F-22 down to the ugly (but very cool) A-10.  And she had her hands on every single one of them to some degree.  Her resume was one that any one of my enlisted friends (and a few of my commissioned friends) would to have.  The first enlisted female to fly on this aircraft.  The first enlisted female to do this AFSC.  The first enlisted female to receive this commendation, or this ribbon.  Her time in the Air Force was filled with “firsts”.  I listened in awe as she told me things that I wish I could share with you all, stories of clandestine operations and the stuff that Tom Clancy novels were made of.  Before I realized that half an hour had passed we found ourselves at the Hospice facility.

“Well, Regina… We’re here.  We’ll get you checked in to your room, and the staff will be in almost immediately to ask you several of the same questions I just did, as well as take all of the same vital signs that I just did.  As soon as they’re done your family will be able to join you… “  I was busy switching her oxygen to the portable tank and assembling her bags to be carried in.

“No, no one’s coming for me.  My Dad is the only one left, and He’s in the hospital as it is.” Her tone was stoic.

Within an instant, I was considerably less stoic than she was.

I swallowed hard, “Well then I’ll be waiting for you.”

My partner was at the back door rolling his eyes. I guessed that he was used to me getting a little misty from time to time.  I quickly blurted out something about allergies, and climbed out of the back of the truck.

“Dispatch is going to freak,” he mumbled under his breath to me.

“They’ll be fine,” I spat back through clenched teeth.

**********

We wheeled Reggie into her room at the end of the long hallway.  It’s one of my favorite rooms at this particular facility, a corner room with sweeping views of a pond and the neighboring nature preserve.

“Oh my… It’s beautiful,” She exclaimed.  She took off her knit cap and adjusted the glasses on her face.  As if on cue, a deer walked across the meadow into the nature preserve.

“Yeah it really is.  You have the best room in the house right now.” I swung the stretcher around so that we were lined up with her bed.  “Reggie, do you want us to move you over, or would you rather we lower you down so that you can stand up and stretch?  Your choice.”

Most of the time our patients are too weak to stand when we bring them in here.  I had a feeling our patient today wasn’t going to have any part of us moving her to the bed.  I was right.

“I’m not going to let you two do any more than you already have.  Lower this contraption down and I’ll get out of your hair,” She said, a smile on her face.  “You’ve done so much.  I cannot thank you enough.”

“It’s been our pleasure, Ma’am.” Jay said, finally speaking up.

We lowered her down, and I offered her my arm, which she took. Jay put her bags on the table and pushed the stretcher out of the room, in search of linens.

“Regina, they’re going to want to take your vitals and get some paperwork signed.  I’m going to step out so they can do that, but I’ll be here until they’re done checking you in. Is there anything I can do for you before they come in?”

“No, no, Epi.  I’m okay.  Don’t you dare wait around for me.” She finally managed to sit down, and was looking out the window at some kids playing near the pond.  “You have other people to take care of.”

I felt a lump forming in my throat.  “Would you mind if I stopped by from time to time, just to check on you?  I’m in here quite a bit.”  It’s not something that I do often, but the truth was that I truly liked this woman.  I enjoyed her company, and I hoped to see her again.  I wished that I had met her under different circumstances.  The idea of her dying alone, with no friends or family around, that was an impossibility to me.  Unacceptable.

“I’d really like that, Epi.  Maybe you can stop by one night and we’ll order a pizza and watch a movie.” She was smiling now.

“I’d like that too.”

A tall male nurse knocked on the door and entered the room.  “Hi Regina, I’m here to get you checked in.”

Reggie looked at the nurse, and looked at me, and winked. I couldn’t help but laugh.

**********

I wasn’t able to stay that day, as dispatch triple booked us on runs, but two days later I found myself poking my head in her doorway.

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, the sun was shining, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.  I wasn’t working that day, but I had this need to make sure she was doing okay.  The facility she was in wasn’t too far of a drive, not that it would have mattered.

“Reggie? It’s Epi.  Can I come in?”

“Epi?” She rolled over in bed, that familiar blanket with the jets on it covering her up.  “Hi Sweety, come on in!”

Her room was filled with flowers.  The smell was wonderful.

“Regina, the flowers are gorgeous!  They’re absolutely beautiful!” I couldn’t resist bending over to smell the roses sitting on her bedside table.

She was blushing.  “I sent them to myself,” She admitted.  “I figured I deserve them. Come in and have a seat.” She motioned towards the green recliner.

I stepped further into her room and sat in the comfortable chair next to her bed.  “Yes you do.  You absolutely do deserve them.  How are you feeling this afternoon?”

“I’m really doing okay.”

This is how all of our visits began.  I’d find myself outside of her door, nervous because I didn’t know what condition she’d be in, but excited to see her.  Sometimes we’d just sit and talk about the kids, or about my job, or about her time in the Air Force spent kicking ass and taking names.  One night I visited we watched Full Metal Jacket and ate pepperoni pizza.  The one thing we never did was discuss her condition.  We never discussed how much time was left.  We would just talk.  And we’d laugh.  We laughed a lot.  After awhile it was easy to forget that she was there because she was terminal.  She was in fact, going to die.  Soon, probably.  And no talking about margaritas and discussing the pros and cons of the the SR-71 Blackbird was going to change that.

I had just dropped a patient off one day when I saw her standing by the fish tank.  She looked absolutely beautiful.  Her hair was growing back in, she was made up like a beauty queen.

“Reggie!  Woman you look wonderful!” I stopped in my tracks in the hallway, which resulted in my poor partner walking into the back end of the empty stretcher.  He yelped, glaring at me.

She just smiled that smile she had, the one that extended up into her eyes and shook her head.  “Not too bad for a dead woman, hey?”

That was about the time that it really hit me in the gut. I didn’t know what to say.  All I could do was hug her.

“Epi…  My Dad died today,” She started.

I nodded.  “I’m sorry, Reggie.” I squeezed her tiny body.

“He’s at peace, Epi.  It’s okay.”

I wanted to stay and talk, to make sure she was really okay, but as always, there were runs waiting.  I promised to visit her the following day.  She promised to beat me at Rummy.

**********

It was two days before I would see her again.

I stood at her doorway, as I had done so many times before.  I knocked and poked my head in.  For the first time, she didn’t call me by name.  She didn’t invite me in.  I could see the outline of her body in her bed, covered up with that familiar blanket, her favorite blanket.

“Regina?” I whispered again.

“Come in,” She whispered, her voice hoarse.  She was on oxygen now, and from across the room I could tell that her respiratory rate had dropped.  Every breath she took required effort.  My heart instantly broke. I felt physically ill.

“Reggie, how are you feeling honey?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?  Are you my nurse?” Her eyes were fixed on me, and I could tell she had no idea who I was.

“No, Regina, I’m Epi, remember me?  I brought you here in the ambulance?  I’ve visited you… Remember?  Playing cards?”  I knew she wouldn’t remember me…  That cancer had probably invaded her brain now.  I walked up to her and covered her up,  “You be well, Honey.  Do you need anything?” I searched her eyes again.

Her voice cracked.  “Did you know I was in the Air Force?”

I nodded.  “I did know that, Regina.  I’m a fan of everything you’ve done.  I’m a fan of your life.”

She managed to smile.  “Don’t be sad, I’ll be okay.”  I didn’t realize that I had tears running down my face.

Hell, if she can smile, certainly I can.

I returned her smile, smoothing her new hair down.  “Would you mind if I sat here with you for awhile?”

She shook her head.  “That would be fine.  Did you know I was in the Air Force?”

“You were?  Why don’t you tell me about it?”  I sat down next to her, for the last time.

**********

It was a friday when I saw her obituary.  Just two days later.  I knew it was coming, but in no way was I prepared for it.  I cried like I lost a family member.  I cried like I lost a friend.

I did lose a friend.

I will never forget you, Regina.  You’ve inspired me.  And it was a privilege to be a part of your life.