17 year old Callie is at her lowest point. Alone and depressed most of the summer, she feels fat and ugly-and school starts Monday. Her mother Michelle is about to have a baby, and won't tell anyone who the father is. The reality TV show that Michel...
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Episode 4: The truth comes out . . .
When Emergency Medical Tech Sigursky walked into the house he didn't know if he'd come to be a cabby or a midwife. The woman was splayed on the couch with her arms stretched out like a battered light heavyweight hanging on the ropes, sweating and puffing and snarling her agony. A teenage girl sat next to her, holding her hand, looking very worried. Sigursky introduced himself and made sure to give her a reassuring smile. "Well, I see you started without me."
The tighter the spot, the more you needed to open with a joke. And this spot was tight. The woman, Michelle, had on a long, loose housedress with a pattern of little black curlicues. Sigursky had only done one emerg deliv and that was what—twelve years ago? Yet the toughest part would be asking her to lift up her skirt. And having the entire station house standing around sure didn't help. He needed to get all of them out of there except Bonnie, the other EMT.
The phone on Bonnie's belt buzzed, and she jumped. She held the phone to her ear, and then handed it to Sigursky. "Medical director."
Sigursky remembered to use neutral language in front of a potentially hysterical civilian. "I think she's delighted to see us."
"She's dilated?" came the relply. His code word had copied.
"Still assessing, but certainly active."
"If she's transitional, main thing is, get her relaxed, save her strength, no pushing yet. Assess whether she'll stand the ride. I'll be standing by."
"Copy." Sigursky nodded, and handed the cell phone back to Bonnie, whose serious, alert demeanor was exactly right. Bonnie was just twenty-five or so. Sigursky was sure this would be her first emergency delivery, if it went that way. He kneeled in front of the woman and pulled on sterile gloves from a box Bonnie held in front of him.
"Okay, Michelle," he said. She was a big girl, big beyond pregnant. Not beautiful at the moment, but she had that kind of doll face that would look fine when she wasn't bug- eyed and screaming. "On a scale of one to ten, how intense are the—"
"Fifteen!" she gasped, and trembled violently. "Twenty-three. I can't do this." She gripped the young girl's hand.
"You've got to do it. He can't go back the other way without severe tire damage." The woman groaned, either at the joke or at the pain.
"The main thing now is for you to relax." He turned to Bonnie.
She glanced up from her watch. "One minute contractions, three minutes apart."
Sigursky muttered, "This baby ain't transitional, he's goin' to the hole!" Bonnie nodded at him seriously. Nobody was digging his jokes.
Turning back to Michelle, he said, "You two are moving right along. I'm not sure we're going to make it to the hospital. I can tell you've been working on breathing patterns. And that's very important."
