The four of us reminisced for a while, while Ann learned many of my secrets. One of the stories that came up was how my deli and ambulance lives kind of collided one day. I lived closer to the deli than the owners and would often open the deli on weekend mornings. I was in high school then, only 17 years old, and so I really couldn’t open it before school. One Sunday morning I was opening the deli and Ward Taylor (real name, now deceased) was hovering in the alley nearby as I walked up to the locked door with key in hand. Ward was a regular customer of the deli, someone we often joked with and a very congenial guy. He did have a bit of a rough exterior and was a very active member of a local biker gang, but at heart he seemed to be a kind soul who just wanted to fit in and have a good laugh. He was not laughing now—he looked like he was in distress as he came out of the shadows of the alley. His face and the front of his white t-shirt were bloody and battered. I went to him and asked if he was all right.

“Can we go inside?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, and he followed me in. “Do you need to go to the hospital?” I asked.

“No, no hospital, no police. I got in a bar fight and the police may not be too friendly right now. I just want some first aid supplies.”

“Listen, we don’t have the greatest first aid supplies here, but I have a great first aid kit in my car. Stay here, and I’ll go get it.”

I was pretty sure Ward knew this and knew that I was trying to get a job on the ambulance and that I would be willing to help him as needed. The first aid kit in my car was like that found on many ambulances. My mother was on the local volunteer ambulance, and I wanted to join them, but they did not allow members under the age of 18. Mom was trying to change that rule, but I had taken all the first aid courses I needed to join as soon as I was 18. Anyway, I had the supplies to help Ward.

With the first aid kit at my side, I looked closely at Ward’s face and injuries. He had cuts on his hands consistent with punching someone in the mouth. Sometimes these were called fight-bite-marks. He also had a broken finger and several cuts on his head, face and ears. Some of them needed stitches, but nothing too life threatening. I started to clean the blood off of his face and he said he didn’t care about the blood, he just wanted the wounds tended to. I told him that the blood could foster infection or make the bandaging not stick, so it was important to clean the blood off first. I also reminded him that if he got an infection he would need antibiotics and that meant a visit to a doctor. I could disinfect the wounds and minimize the risk of infection. He begrudgingly agreed. So, I cleaned him up, splinted his finger and put steristrips on the cuts on his face. Steristrips are like a combination of sutures and Band-Aids to hold skin together. I told him it would be best to get stitches or he would have scars from the cuts. He said scars were badges of honor. I wanted to ask him about the fight, but I resisted the temptation. The less I knew the better.

I finished bandaging and cleaning him up and gave him some supplies to change the bandages when needed. He nodded and said thanks, and then kind of shocked me.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said, unable to hide my surprise. “Remember, I’m in training to get on the ambulance, so this is good practice.”

Ward smiled, although it was painful for him to smile, said thanks, and left. I cleaned up the first aid debris, made a mental note to restock my first aid kit, washed my hands thoroughly and got back to work. I checked my watch and realized how little time it had taken to tend to Ward.

I checked the police blotter later and found two stories that might have involved Ward. Two different fights/disturbances that involved the police, but fortunately no details. I was glad. I didn’t really want to know if Ward had done something really bad; I preferred to think of him as a guy always willing to share a laugh.

Ward was killed in a car accident less than a year later. I had started working on the ambulance by then and was the one who checked for and confirmed no vital signs. We transported him to the hospital and immediately after the call I went to the deli to confide and decompress with the guys there. Since this was one of the nerve centers of the town, they had already heard that Ward was dead before I returned from the call.