Nurse Nancy

It should have been just another in a long string of 911 calls to 2430 West Eleventh. Most of the patrol officers had been there at one time or another because about twice a month, the neighbor who lived at 2440 West Eleventh would call 911 and say her neighbors were screaming at each other.

At least two patrol officers would show up and talk to Rachael Frayser and Dan Moyers to find out what the problem was. It was always the same problem and that problem was how Dan treated Rachael.

When the officers got there, they'd separate Rachael and Dan, and then talk to them about what was going on. Rachel's story was always about the same.

"He came home late tonight and I smelled pussy on his dick when I sucked it. He'd been fuckin' some other woman again. I've told him a hundred times if my pussy isn't tight enough, he could fuck me in the ass. That's how he usually fucks me, but about twice a month, he comes home smelling like pussy and wants me to suck his dick. I smelled it on his dick tonight.

"When I started yellin' that he's been fuckin' another woman, he told me to shut the fuck up 'cause we ain't married and he can fuck anybody he wants. I told him to get the fuck out, but he said he won't and he slapped me in the face. I just want him to go away."

The officer talking to Dan would get another version of the story from Dan.

"Rachael's got a pussy so big you'd have to tie a board to your ass so you didn't fall in when you fucked her there. It's 'cause she's so fuckin' fat. I mean, look at her tits. They's big as soccer balls and her belly hangs all the way down to the bed when I fuck her from behind. Her ass is so big I can't much more'n get my cock in her pussy anyway. I like them big tits and I don't mind her belly, but I can't take that sloppy pussy.

"I fuck her in the ass instead and she likes that, but me, I gotta have my cock in a tight pussy once in a while. We ain't married or nothin' so I don't see what she's got to bitch about. She keeps threatenin' to throw me out like she did tonight, but I ain't leavin'. The fuckin' house is mine, not hers. If anybody's gonna leave, it's gonna be her fuckin' fat ass and that's what I told her. Slapped her fat face too. I don't hold with no woman sassin' me like that.

In cases like this, the police really can't do much except try to get the couple to separate until they cool off. Since it's usually the woman who bears the brunt of it, they'll try to get her to leave and go to a shelter. If that's not possible, they'll ask the woman if she'll swear out a complaint against the other.

In Rachael's case it was always pretty obvious that she'd been hit in some way, so the officer would ask her if she wanted to have Dan arrested. She'd always start to cry then.

"No, because I love him and I don't want to send him to jail. I just want him to promise me that he won't fuck other women again."

Since at that time the state didn't have a law that makes it mandatory in the case of a domestic dispute to arrest the person using violence against the other, the patrol officers had no choice. They'd get the couple together and talk to them until Dan finally said he wouldn't go with another woman again if Rachael would just suck his cock when he wanted her to. Rachael would start to cry again and then put her arms around Dan's neck. The patrol officers would leave then and back at the station they'd record the 911 call and what they did.

That would last for about two weeks or so, and then the neighbor would call 911 again.

The 911 call before this one indicated Dan was accelerating his abuse of Rachael. When the patrol officers got there, her lip was bleeding and she had a bruise on her arm. The officers went through their usual questioning and then told Rachael this wasn't going to stop until she did something about Dan. This time Rachael said she'd file a complaint. The officers took her complaint, arrested Dan, and took him to the station.

The afternoon of the next day, Rachael went to the station and said she wanted to retract her complaint. Two female officers tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't listen. An hour after she got there, she'd retracted the complaint and left with Dan.

It should have been taken as a warning that Dan told the officer who released him from the holding cell that "The cops better not try to arrest me again", but police officers hear that same threat from lots of people they arrest. It's a threat made in anger and usually doesn't mean anything. On this last 911 call, it did mean something.

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When the neighbor called 911, she said her neighbors were fighting again so that wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that the call was made at two in the afternoon instead of one or two in the morning. Dispatch asked for a car in the vicinity to go to the address and investigate the situation. As it was, there were three cars within five minutes and all three officers responded.

Terry Meadows arrived first and was walking up the walk to the front door when Jamie French and Todd Adams pulled up. They were just starting toward the walk when the door to the house opened. Neither Jamie nor Todd saw the shotgun barrel until they heard the blast and saw Terry fall down. The second shot came so quickly they didn't have time to find cover either. That shot hit Todd in the legs and he went down. Jamie drew his sidearm and fired three rounds at the front door of the house as he quickly made his way to behind the tree on the left side of the walk.

The shooting stopped then. Jamie radioed for backup and the EMT's, then yelled for the shooter to put down his gun and come out with his hands in the air. Nothing happened for about a minute. Then, the door opened a little wider and a woman came out with her hands in the air. Jamie instructed her to get down on her stomach and put her hands behind her back. After she complied, Jamie yelled for the shooter to come out.

The woman turned her head so she could see Jamie, and then sobbed, "Dan can't come out. You shot him."

Two more cars had arrived by then, the shift supervisor and another patrolman. The officers were crouched behind their cars with their sidearms drawn. When they heard the woman, Warren Matthews, the shift supervisor, yelled at Jamie and asked if he could see anything. Jamie peered around the tree trunk, then yelled back that he couldn't. Warren told the other patrol officer to drive around to the alley behind the house and tell them when he was in position before he and Jamie entered the front door.

That had all happened during the five minutes after Terry had started up the walk. It was about then that the first EMT truck pulled up and the two EMT's got out. Warren told them to stay behind the police cars until they'd secured the scene. Then he began working his way toward the right side of the house. He silently thanked the person who had planted the trees in the front yard decades ago. They were pretty far apart, but by running from one to the next, Warren made it to the corner of the house.

Jamie had also worked his way to the other corner of the house. Together, they began inching along the wall toward the front door. Both had to duck down under a window so they wouldn't be seen, but a few seconds later Jamie took a quick look through the open door and then turned back to Warren.

"Looks like he is down. He's laying on the floor and the shotgun is about three feet from his hand. He's not moving either."

Warren nodded and then stepped toward the door. He leveled his service pistol at the man on the floor as Jamie quickly stepped inside. A few seconds later, Jamie picked up the shotgun and motioned for Warren to come in.

"Looks like I got him at least twice. He's not going anywhere except to the morgue."

Warren stepped back outside and yelled to the EMT's that it was clear and saw that a second EMT truck had pulled up behind the first. The first pair of EMT's ran to Todd while the second pair ran to Terry.

When they got to Terry, he was still breathing but his wounds looked pretty bad and with each breath he coughed up some blood. The load of bird shot had spread out a little because Terry had been about thirty feet from the house, but it had still torn him up pretty badly. It looked to the EMT's like his vest had caught most of the pellets, but he was bleeding from his throat, mouth, and nose. It also looked like at least one pellet had hit him in the eye because his sunglasses were cracked.

The EMT's couldn't do much to stop the bleeding. If it had been a gunshot to his arm or leg, they'd have put a tourniquet above the wound to stop the bleeding. They couldn't put a tourniquet around his neck without killing him, so they wrapped his head tight in bandages and stuck an IV in his arm to try to keep up with the blood loss. The put him on a gurney, and then left for the closest hospital with their lights and siren on.

Since Todd was further from the house door, the shotgun pattern had almost missed him. He just had a few spots on his left thigh peppered with shot but the shot hadn't hit anything vital. He was in pain, but not in any real danger. The EMT's put him on their gurney even though he said he could walk, and in a couple minutes were on their way to the hospital with Todd in the back.

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When Terry woke up, the first thing he thought was it must be night because he couldn't see anything. That was odd because he always left a little nightlight on in his bathroom in case he had to get up during the night.

His second thought was that he probably couldn't see because he'd pulled the blanket up over his face. He was reaching up to pull it down when a soft hand grabbed his arm and he heard a woman's voice.

"Officer Meadows, don't. If you pull on your dressings, you might start bleeding again. You'll pull out your IV too and I'll have to put it back in."

Terry lowered his hand then, but he had some questions. He started to say something but found he couldn't open his mouth for some reason. All that came out was unintelligible garbled sound.

Whoever the woman was heard it and put her hand on his arm.

"Officer Meadows, you're having trouble talking because the anesthetic hasn't completely worn off yet. Sometimes that happens, but you'll be fine in a few hours. Now, go back to sleep. The surgeon will be in to talk with you tomorrow and tell you what he's done and what's ahead. I'll be here if you need me. All you have to do is ask."

Terry tried to stay awake, but he felt himself drifting off again. When he lost consciousness, he was still wondering what the hell had happened to him.

When he woke up again, he had to pee. He remembered the woman had said she'd be there if he needed her and to ask. Terry's throat was pretty dry so his voice was more of a croak when he said "Nurse". When he did, he heard the rustle of clothing and then a hand on his arm. The voice was this time was a man's voice.

"I'm John, Officer Meadows, and I'm your nurse for the next few hours. What do you need."

Terry felt embarrassed but it was either pee in the toilet or soak the bed.

"I gotta pee really bad."

John said, "OK, but you can't get out of bed just yet. I'll get you a urinal."

Terry felt a slight chill when John pulled the blankets down, and then was really embarrassed when John lifted his hospital gown. He felt something cold between his thighs and then jerked when he felt John's hand on his cock. That hand guided it into a tube of some sort and then the John spoke again.

"Don't be embarrassed, Officer Meadows. This is how you're going to do this until your blood chemistry stabilizes. You lost a lot of blood and it'll take a couple days to get you back to where you were before so we can pull your IV. Now, just pretend I'm not here and let it go."

Terry couldn't have held it any longer so he did let go. It seemed to take quite a while, but he couldn't remember when he'd gone the last time. When the stream stopped, John asked if he was done. Terry nodded his head a little, and then felt a soft tissue of some sort wiping his cock head after John pulled away the urinal. Then he felt John pull his hospital gown down and then pull the blanket and sheet up to his neck. He heard the snap as John pulled of the latex gloves he'd worn.

"Doctor Madison, the surgeon who worked on you, will be here in about fifteen minutes. He'll explain everything and then answer any questions you have. Be sure to ask him about anything that's unclear.

John put a cylinder with a button on one end in Terry's hand.

"If you need anything, just push this button and I'll be here."

With that, John left and Terry was alone with his thoughts. The only problem was he didn't have a clue as to why he seemed to be in a hospital. All he could remember was getting dispatched to the 911 call and starting up the walk to the house.

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Doctor Madison came in a little later.

"Officer Meadows, I'm Doctor Howard Madison, the surgeon who worked on you. Do you remember anything that happened?"

Terry slowly shook his head.

"No. All I remember is starting up the sidewalk to a house."

Terry thought he was going to like Doctor Madison because he sounded like he understood what Terry was going through.

"Well, I'm not surprised. This memory loss happens a lot to people who go through some really bad trauma. I suppose it's the brain's way of blocking out something it doesn't want to remember. It might pass and it might not. Either way, don't worry about it. It's perfectly normal.

"I'll tell you what your Captain told me when he called to check on your condition, and then I'll explain your condition.

"A man in the house shot you with a shotgun as you were walking up the walk. Your vest stopped a lot of the pellets. The others hit you in the throat and face. You're lucky the guy was using birdshot. Most of the pellets didn't penetrate into the bone. If he'd had buckshot...well, you'd be laying in a casket today instead of in our hospital.

"From what I understand he wounded another officer - Todd is his first name I think - he wounded another officer before he was shot and killed by a third officer. The other officer is OK, by he way. He'll be limping around for a few days, but he'll recover just fine.

"Well, that's all I know about how you ended up here. What I'm going to tell you now won't seem very good, but the other option was a hell of a lot worse. I'm sure you've seen shotgun wounds before, so I'll be as specific as I can.

"Officer Meadows, none of the pellets hit your carotid artery or your jugular vein. If they had, you probably wouldn't be here today. What they did was hit mostly on your chin and face up to your forehead. It took us six hours to pick out all the shot and get the bleeding stopped.

"Most of your wounds are more cosmetic than anything life threatening. There will be some scarring, but cosmetic surgery can fix that. You're especially lucky that none of them hit your vocal chords. Those are damned near impossible to put right, but yours are fine. You'll be able to sing just like you could before, if you were a singer that is.

"The worst injury is to your eye. Your sunglasses were ballistic rated so they didn't shatter. Of the pellets hit your sunglasses, a few of the pellets broke out some small pieces. We had to pick a few pieces of plastic out of both your eyes. Fortunately, your sunglasses absorbed most of the energy, so the pieces weren't embedded deep enough to do any real damage. What did was one pellet that apparently slipped between your sunglasses and nose and then hit your right eye.

"The angle was such that it didn't enter your eyeball, but it cut a shallow gouge through your cornea. Corneas tend to heal quickly without much treatment, so we have both of your eyes covered with cups to keep out any light. That's so you won't be tempted to move your eyes around. It also means you'll effectively be blind until our eye surgeon gives us the OK to uncover your eyes. He'll examine you then and tell you what he thinks.

"I don't want to make you think it's hopeless, but you do need to be thinking about your options. Your other injuries wouldn't stop me from certifying you for duty once they heal. If you end up blind in your right eye, I can't. Tom did tell me that he's saved a person's sight before with a cornea transplant. That might be an option for you if the cornea doesn't heal on its own. I'm not sure what your police department's policy would be for that though.

"That's the best I can lay it out for you, Officer Meadows. I figured you'd seen enough to know if I wasn't telling you the truth, so I gave it to you as straight as I know how. What questions do you have now?"

Terry was still trying to get his head around what Doctor Madison had told him, so he couldn't think of any.

"I can't think of anything right now."

Doctor Madison patted Terry's arm.

"I'm sure you'll think of something and I'll be around to check on you every day, so you can ask me then. We'll be able to take off your dressings except for your eyes in a couple days and move you out of Intensive Care to a regular room. Your Captain said your insurance will pay for a private room, so that's what you'll get.

"Until then, what you need to do is rest and remember that you're one very lucky guy. I don't want you feeling sorry for yourself. All that'll do is make you heal slower. I've prescribed some pain medicine for when you need it, but don't overdo it. Getting off the stuff can hurt worse than the pain you took it for. When you think you need something, just buzz the nurse's station and tell them. The nurse will put it in your IV."

After Doctor Madison left, Terry tried hard to remember what had happened that day, but as far as he could get was getting out of his patrol car and starting up the walk. After that there was nothing until he woke up in the hospital.

Doctor Madison had said he might remember someday, so Terry put that in the back of his mind and started trying to figure out if Doctor Madison had been telling the truth. His reason for doing that was pretty simple. Terry had spent four years in the Navy, the last three as a Shore Patrol officer, and had joined the police force as soon as his enlistment was up. Being a cop was all he knew how to do, and if he couldn't be a cop after this, he didn't know how he could make a living.

His arms and legs seemed to work fine. It did hurt a little to move his head, but nothing he couldn't manage. Then he tried to move his eyes but stopped as soon as he started. They didn't exactly hurt. They just felt like he'd had sand kicked in his eyes.

Terry decided that all in all, he was in pretty good shape for being shot. As Doctor Madison had said, Terry had seen his fill of gunshot wounds including some from shotguns. Contrary to what most people believe, the pellets from a shotgun don't spread out very fast. Terry had seen people shot with a shotgun at a range of about ten feet and wherever they were hit, the flesh looked a lot like hamburger and that was just with common birdshot. At ten feet, the birdshot only spread out to cover a circle of about three to six inches in diameter. An any range much closer, the birdshot might as well be a huge, single bullet, because it was still trapped in the shot cup and didn't spread out much at all.

He'd been about thirty feet away from the house, so the pellets had spread out a lot, and each pellet was so light it didn't have enough energy to penetrate very deep.

Terry tried moving his mouth and nose, and he could feel a little discomfort but not real pain. He'd seen addicts in jail going through withdrawl so he didn't need Doctor Madison to tell him to go easy on the drugs. So far, he didn't feel any pain that he wouldn't have handled with aspirin or Tylenol.

The only thing that really bothered Terry was that he couldn't see anything. He could open his eyes, but all he saw was blackness. The thought of being blind in one eye was chilling. That meant the end of police work as well as any other job that required good eyesight and depth perception.