That time I didn't rush guy to hospital

A couple of years ago a political candidate collapsed at a campaign event. Her entourage whisked her away to her house.

“Why didn’t they take her to the hospital?” The Lady of the House said to the TV.

“I would’ve. I learned that lesson in my scoutin’ days,” I said.

“Oh do tell,” she said, turning to me.

You should know my scoutin’ troop probably wasn’t representative of what goes on in most scout troops. I think that’s why I call it a rogue troop.

The old guys in charge clearly wanted to get away from their wives for a weekend of drinking under the guise of taking a bunch of kids camping.

That Saturday night after all the scouts were asleep Scout Chief Ray and his pals decided to sit around the campfire drinking copious amounts of whiskey.

At some point Ray stood up and tumbled into the campfire. The spout of a campfire coffee pot pierced him deeply between a couple of ribs.

Ray needed medical attention. There were weird gurgling noises coming out of his chest. The other scout chiefs were too drunk to drive him to town.

I learned all this later because the first I heard of it all Henry was sticking his head in my pup tent.

“Hey, McGee, don’t you have a learner’s permit to drive? You gotta drive Ray to the hospital,” Henry said.

I stumbled down to where the old guys were. Being a kid of 15 I was more excited about driving Ray’s ’56 T-bird with the hand brush painted exterior of yellow house paint.

We got him into the car.

Ray’s ’56 T-bird was one of those fickle cars that seemed to only start with its owner’s touch. I tried and tried and tried to start the thing. Ray was yellin’ and cussin’ and wondering why I couldn’t start his car.

Finally, “va-ROOOOM,” it started up.

I smiled big.

Henry told me to take Ray to the hospital. I eased the car down the double-rutted dirt trail out of the woods,

Ray cussed along the way as each bump jarred him.

“Dang, McGee, I’m gonna call you ‘Cowboy’ from now on. You drive like a cowboy,” Ray said.

“FORGET THE HOSPITAL, TAKE ME HOME,” Ray bellowed when we got to pavement.

I figured he knew what he was talking about ‘cos I was a kid and he was a grown-up so that’s where I headed.

I dropped him off and left him in the care of his wife.

And even though I was supposed to have an adult driving with me, I drove the hand-painted yellow ’56 T-bird back to my house.

With daylight came a phone call from Henry.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TAKE RAY TO THE HOSPITAL,” he bellowed. It seems I hung around a lot of bellowing old guys in my day.

“Ray told me to take him home so I did. Besides I’m a kid and he’s an adult,” I said.

“He was drunk, he was in shock, you should’ve figured that out. His wife ended up taking him to the hospital,” Henry said.

“Well I…”

“You have a first aid merit badge, you should’ve known better,” Henry said.

“And that’s how I got my lesson about you need to take people to the hospital when you need to take people to the hospital,” I said to The Lady of the House.

“I hope you’ve learned a lot more since you were 15,” she said, turning back to the TV.

Grant McGee writes for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact him:

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