An Abscessed Engineer
by Dana Waddell
This is driving me crazy! Engineer Mike Stoker was hoping for any painkiller. Even an MS IV hookup wasn’t such a bad idea, but not realistic. Keeping cool while he worked, Mike efficiently maintained the flow and pressure of the water without discord. Despite his unbearable discomfort, controlling pump valves and double-checking the pressure gauges were habitual; however, he desired peace from his unrelenting agony.
Just before 1 AM, the S.C.U. tones had sounded and LA dispatched Engine 51 to a fully involved warehouse. Fortunately, the structure was abandoned and there were no injuries. Engine Fifty-one was part of the second alarm assignment directed to protect the exposed businesses on the south side of the blazing building.
As a professional, Mike Stoker usually kept his comments to himself. Quiet and unassuming, he realized the importance of his responsibilities. Just keep doing your job, said his conscience. However, a nagging pain was at the point of shattering his pride. He had spent most of his shift yearning for much needed relief.
I’ll probably open another bottle of aspirin before morning rolls around. Mike dreaded replacing B-shift’s engineer, Scott Anderson, for a little overtime. It was a favor to Scott, who was moving his young family into a new home.
Finishing his task, Mike climbed into the driver’s seat and waited patiently for the others.
"An easy one," chortled Marco as he and Chet brought the hoses back to the engine.
"Hey Mike! Our sleeping giants got it made, huh?" Chet referred to Roy DeSoto and John Gage, the paramedics from 51’s whose services were not required for the call.
"I could care less." Mike rubbed his jaw annoyingly.
Marco looked intently at the usually approachable engineer. "If Johnny heard you, he’d swear you were hurting his feelings."
"I said, I could care less," Mike replied in a disturbing tone.
Stoker hardly spoke; he was the quiet one. But for quite some time, he appeared moody and distant. Chet and Marco exchanged glances as they climbed aboard the rig.
"What’s his problem?" Chet questioned, glaring at the back of Mike’s head.
"Don’t know," answered Marco while wiping the soot off his face. "Roy asked him something earlier, and Mike nearly bit his head off."
"And why does he keep rubbing his face like that?" Chet wondered in a low whisper. It was obvious something was amiss with their crew mate.
After assessing the warehouse and its damages, Captain Stanley made his way to the engine. He finished communicating with LA dispatch. "Engine Fifty-one available," he spoke into the Handie Talkie while taking his seat next to Mike. "Okay, let’s pull out."
"Sure." Mike mumbled in a low growl.
Hank also noticed the change. Ever since the long shift started, Mike was more to himself than usual. He refrained from playing cards with the guys or even laughed at Johnny’s dating woes. Hank needed to know what was going on. "Something bothering you, Mike?"
While driving, Mike kept his focus on the darkened city streets. "Nothing at all, Cap."
"Okay." The answer didn’t convince Hank one bit. Within minutes, the station was viewable, and Mike began maneuvering the engine. Every turn of the large steering wheel made his head hurt. The pain was intolerable, but he tried keeping it to himself. However, his winces were extremely graphic. As Mike backed the engine into the apparatus bay, Hank persisted, "Are you feeling okay?"
Mike slammed on the brakes. "Cap, I said I’m fine. There’s nothing a shower and two aspirins can’t cure," he replied curtly, much to the surprise of Hank, and even Chet and Marco, who overheard.
The pounding engine doors woke Roy from his slumber. He muttered, "Okay, where’s the fire, Johnny? Johnny?" He turned over and realized that his partner wasn’t in his bunk. Roy rolled over, burrowing underneath his blanket, when he heard Mike’s voice. Or at least he thought it was Mike.
"WHERE’S THE ASPIRIN?"
John hastily entered the dorm room and exclaimed, "What on earth is wrong with him?"
Roy slowly sat upright, focusing his eyes on John. "Why the shouting?"
John placed hand on hips. "Stoker rushed right past me and started yelling about aspirin!"
Roy and John were aware that something had been disturbing Mike for the last few days. Maybe even longer. Mike was always courteous and polite, but not lately. Being cordial with him either turned into small-scale arguments or no conversation at all.
"No one could have a headache that bad." Roy was rubbing sleep from his eyes. He shifted into his bunker pants and walked towards Johnny. "And where were you?"
John explained, rubbing tired muscles at the back of his neck. "Couldn’t sleep, so I was watching the late night show." He continued, "The engine came back a few minutes ago, and all I heard was Stoker cussing, Cap fussing and everything slamming."
"Where’re Chet and Marco?" Roy blinked his eyes, somewhat surprised by John’s recount.
"They’re showering and Cap’s in his office. I think they’re all avoiding Mike." John answered with a tone of exasperation.
Roy shoved both hands into his pockets, "That definitely doesn’t sound like him at all."
"Tell me about it!" John agreed. He occasionally had small talk with Mike, a person who was willing to carry a conversation. John couldn’t understand why Mike had not been himself.
"Listen, they just came back from a fire. Something could’ve went wrong." Roy stated sensibly.
John pursed his lips, not totally satisfied. "Guess you’re right, but it must be more than that!"
Roy also couldn’t understand Mike’s sullen disposition. The two had a lot in common and got along fairly well. Although there was some concern, Roy decided the best method was to accept. "Maybe he’s under stress," Roy assumed. "Mike’s covering for Anderson in a few hours, and that’s another shift right there."
"Well, it’s not natural for Stoker to be acting that way." John wasn’t willing to adjust to the engineer’s mood swing.
Suddenly, the door swung open abruptly. Mike stormed in, clutching the lower right side of his mouth. "Did you hear me asking for aspirin?"
The rude entrance startled both paramedics. "Asking?" John quipped. "It was more like demanding."
Roy rolled his eyes. Leave it to Johnny to stir things up. Mike was tightly clenching his teeth when he snapped, "Gage, if I wanted a comment from the peanut gallery, I’d ask for it."
Squashing John’s opportunity to retort, Roy answered calmly. "Go look in the drug box, there should be plenty."
"Thanks," Mike marched directly to the squad. Chet, Marco and Hank walked in afterwards, gazing curiously at Mike. He was fumbling with the squad compartment and muttering obscenities.
"You see that? He’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde!" John ran fingers through his tousled hair.
"Our quiet friend’s lost his mind!" Chet griped as he walked towards his bunk. "He’s a ticking time bomb, I tell ya."
Hank spoke while removing his bunker pants, "I doubt it’s his mentality; he’s got an ache and not telling us about it."
"Ache?" Roy asked perplexingly.
Marco slipped into the bedcovers and yawned, "Haaas faaaeeess heeertts."
"What?" John squinted at the sleepy fireman.
"Gage, can’t you understand anything?" Chet teased. "He said his face hurts."
"Your face hurts, Marco? Why didn’t you tell us?"
The groans reverberating around the dorm indicated that John was way off target. "Not Marco, you twit!" Hank rested comfortably in his bunk. "Stoker!"
The object of their conversation then walked in peacefully. "Yes?"
"Er, well, we, well," John fumbled. The sudden shift in Mike’s personality made him apprehensive.
"We were wondering when you were going to turn in," Roy finished for his partner who conveyed little reaction.
Looking at faces of the tired A-shift, Mike answered calmly. "Right now actually. I’m beat."
"I bet you are," Chet said sarcastically.
John shook his head, noticing how Mike quickly changed from maniacal to calm. "I’m getting a glass of milk." He said while exiting the dorm.
"I’ll join ya," Roy shrugged his shoulders and followed his partner.
Mike ignored the commentary and retreated to his bunk. He had to keep his irritably in check, or he was going to completely lose it. The aspirins were working to alleviate the throbbing pain, but not quickly enough. Why won’t this go away? He’d been having pain for two weeks, and it was getting worse. It started to impair his speech, not that he talked much anyway. He carefully eased his painful jaw into an angled position. No one noticed that he was using two pillows. How long am I going to suffer like this? He then drifted off to sleep
* * * *
"Mornin’ everyone," cheered John as he strode into the day room. The aroma of scrambled eggs, hot pancakes and fried bacon were increasing his ravenous appetite. Marco and Hank were preparing breakfast and setting the dining table.
Roy was absorbed in his paper when he answered back, "Good…if you’re not Mike right now."
"Huh?" John sat in a chair near Roy. "What’s wrong with him now?"
"His mouth’s swollen and he won’t let anyone touch him," Hank called back from the stove.
Chet walked in and took a seat opposite John and Roy. "Stoker looks as if he’s been in a 10-round boxing match."
"So I heard," John gathered before turning to his partner. "Roy?"
"I tried helping him, but he pretty much told me to back off, etceteras and etceteras."
John frowned in confusion, "Etceteras?"
"He told Roy to do something with a delicate part of his anatomy." Marco replied as he and Hank began setting plates of hot food on the table.
John broadened his toothy smile. "No way! What’d you do?"
Roy looked up from the paper. "I bet him he probably couldn’t eat crispy bacon."
"We all think he’s got a bad tooth." Chet helped himself to a portion of scrambled eggs.
John rose from his chair and went to the refrigerator, retrieving a container of orange juice. "Where’s he now?"
"Probably popping more aspirin." Roy remarked while pouring syrup on his pancakes.
Hank seated himself at the table and started his breakfast. "What I don’t understand is, why doesn’t he just see a dentist?"
"Cause guys don’t go to dentists," John said with a mouth full of food.
"I hate dentists!" exclaimed Marco. "They give me the willies."
John nodded agreeably, "I hear ya. They get a joy out of poking in your mouth, and love seeing you sweat."
"You’re overreacting," Roy attempted to get Johnny off his soap box.
Chet then voiced his prejudice. "Gage and Marco are right. Dentists not only make tons of money, but get their kicks out of squirming patients."
"Will you listen to yourselves? You guys probably haven’t seen a dentist in years!" Hank determined from the conversation.
"My family goes twice a year," Roy stated frankly. "The kids never have cavities."
"That’s because you won’t let them eat candy," John joked candidly. Roy smirked, knowing his partner was right.
* * * *
I look…HORRIBLE! Mike examined his reflection in the mirror. His cheek was puffy and it hurt just to open his mouth half an inch. Yet, he obligingly promised to cover for Anderson, like it or not. Mike wasn’t a believer in putting on airs but resorted to disguise his misery.
Mike combed his usually impeccable hair, not a single strand out of place. His uniform was spotless and his shoes shined as always. However, it was obvious that his mouth resembled a prize fighter’s worst nightmare. Strike one.
"Googh mowwnin," Mike mumbled in greeting to his crew mates. As he occupied a chair, the scrumptious breakfast perked up his taste buds. He groaned inwardly. Ah, geesh – that smells great. But, there’s no way I’m going to be able to chew that crispy bacon.
"Try some of this bacon, Mike – it’s great!" John enthused, pushing the plate of crispy pork towards the sullen engineer. Strike two.
"I-ill a jush haarv pancooks, shaanks." Strike three.
"You won," John snickered towards Roy.
All eyes were on the engineer, whose mouth sported a small lump at the base of his jaw below the gums. Chet stared while keeping a straight face, "What’s inside your mouth?"
"Whaach? Nushin." Mike’s trembling hand lifted his fork. Bringing a small piece of pancake to his lips, opening his mouth, and nibbling were harder than he ever imagined. He was failing horribly at covering up his ordeal. He stared at his plate, averting eye contact from the others. This is ridiculous!
"What’d ya say?" John was pushing Mike’s buttons, even if somewhat unintentionally.
Chet continued fueling Mike’s humiliation, "Aw, why should all this tasty bacon go to waste?"
"Yeah, I had a plate full of strips already," Marco joined in on the taunting.
Mike rested an elbow on the table, balancing his face in the palm of his hand. He protested, "I doshwannany bakuun."
"I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that." Roy tried earnestly not to smirk, but it wasn’t funny, and not especially to Captain Stanley.
Hank Stanley, despite some level of insecurity, was a fair and knowledgeable captain. He also hated what was happening with his engineer and sternly addressed him. "I’m relieving you from the rest of the shift and calling HQ for a replacement for B-shift. I’m also ordering you to see a doctor." The authoritative tone stopped everyone in their tracks, including Mike.
His eyes widened in disbelief as it was extremely rare that anyone took him off duty. "I’m fine. There’s nushin wrong wiff me." Oh damn, this pain’s too much.
Roy wasn’t accepting Mike’s denial. "Have you seen yourself? You can barely eat." With that said, even John had difficulty swallowing his food.
Mike realized he was losing the battle but made another effort to win the war. "Listen, unless I burn myshef or break a limb, I don’t need a doctor." This isn’t working.
"Change into your civvies now, Stoker. You’re off duty." Hank then went into his office to phone Headquarters.
"Fine," Mike resigned, making little eye contact. As he left the table, his dropped fork clamored loudly onto his plate. Chet noticed that Mike left most of his pancakes untouched.
"Mike, you gonna finish this?"
"CHET!" The shouts were in unison.
* * * *
Mike, dressed in his polo shirt and blue jeans, leaned heavily against his locker. "Cap’s right," he confessed to himself. "If I don’t get di-sh checked out, I’m in big trouble." Defeated and embarrassed, he couldn’t bear to face the guys. I looked like an idiot.
"And you’ll probably get an infection," Roy warned as he sat on the bench. He felt bad that Mike was going through so much turmoil. He also felt guilty for the teasing. "Mike, we were acting like jack asses, but how long were you going to go on like that?"
Mike stammered. "Sorry I’ve been nasty, but I hate…I just can’t stand…"
Roy was trying to reason with him. "You’re looking at a guy who knows everything about dentists. They’re not the enemy."
"How do you know?" Mike was trying to perfect his slurred speech. I still sound like a two year old.
"For a long time, I didn’t do anything about my toothaches. Like you, I kept taking aspirin, the pains came and went. Remember when Dwyer filled in for me a while ago?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"I had the first of two root canals in the same month."
"Oh, I see," Mike shuddered at the thought.
"Since then, I keep my regular appointments and all’s been well." Roy shrugged.
Mike rubbed his tender jaw and considered Roy’s advice. "Thankshh, but you know…"
"What?"
"Us, you know…men…if we tell other guys we have pain, we’re wimps." Mike answered with a wisp in his speech.
Roy had wondered if Mike was afraid his macho appearance would slip. "Are you kidding? With our line of work, we’re always going to have our days of pain."
"But not dis kinda pain!" Mike pointed illustratively at his puffy cheek.
"Well…no…but you have to stop it sooner or later, right?" Roy said pleasantly, wishing that would ease Mike’s tension and possible fear.
Mike cast his eyes downward. "Yeah, I’s-pose." Then, looking up at Roy, he continued. "Dis talk doesn’t leave the room, kay?"
"You bet." Roy agreed.
Seconds later, Hank entered the locker room and spoke to Mike. "Erickson from 18’s is relieving the B-shift, then he covers for the A-shift ‘til you return."
"Thanks Cap, and I’m sawwy for being a jerk." The surprising apology took all that Mike could muster.
Hank said sincerely, "Don’t mention it, just get yourself checked out."
Mike messaged his jaw, "Yeah….AAAAHHH!"
"I’ll get you a couple of aspirins before you go," Roy gingerly patted Mike on the back.
* * * *
"You had an abscess?" Chet couldn’t believe what Mike revealed. The engineer had a two-week-long medical leave, and it was his first day back.
"Well, I lost the tooth, but I’m getting a bridge soon." He carefully bit into an apple, something he hadn’t done for what seemed like ages. "How were things ‘round here?"
"Erickson wasn’t bad," Chet informed him. "But he could never take your place."
Mike accepted the compliment. "Gee, thanks."
"Hey, look who’s back!" Roy entered the station.
Mike replied, "And without an ounce of pain."
Chet grinned ruefully, "At least we can understand what you’re saying."
"And you’re not grumpy either," Roy beamed.
"Ha ha," Mike countered.
"Heard you had a tooth pulled," Roy began. "Did he give you anesthesia?"
"Gas," Mike answered. "Totally knocked me out. He prescribed a pain killer and that was it. Going back there for a follow up next week," he said proudly.
"Speaking of gas," Chet looked around the day room. "Anyone seen Gage?"
"Not since last shift." Roy discovered his partner hadn’t yet reported for duty. "Hope he’s not late for roll call."
Just as Roy completed his sentence, John and Marco entered the station. "Morning," Marco said cheerily as he walked towards the lockers. John followed, sulking without saying a word.
"What’s wrong with you? Another bad date?" Chet joked as he, Mike and Roy joined them.
"NO!" John retorted while changing into his uniform.
Roy couldn’t figure it out. "What’s with him?"
"He had a dentist appointment yesterday." Marco couldn’t contain the suspense.
Roy and Johnny usually shared everything, but the revelation was news to him. "He didn’t tell us?"
"That’s because--" Marco was about to disclose when Johnny cut him short.
"What Marco’s saying is that I had a dental exam."
"And?" Chet pondered anxiously.
John hated the inquisition. "He said I needed to come back next week…for two fillings."
"So I guess you won’t be doing this for a while," Mike heartily munched on his apple, finishing the core.
The roaring laughter agitated John. "Get lost!" He glared at his comrades. It was another day at Station Fifty-one.
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