in willy's ear.

This isn't really my story, I was actually down the road dealing with a drunk when this happened but I'm gonna tell it in first person as it's easier. The Officer involved was Randy Robinson, a very good friend of mine who is probably as psychotic as I tend to be.

The dispatcher advised that ambulance 5 was requesting an Officer to assist them with a possible 603. (mentally unstable) I arrived in front of a cinder block house with no indoor plumbing or electricity that houses about 12 people. The house has two rooms, no real front door, just a screen door and a sheet of plastic. Inside are several candles and lanterns casting a eery glow about the room. The floor is scattered with garbage, dirty plates with chicken bones stacked high cover a small wooden table. In the corner is a large pile of trash that has been collecting for weeks, perhaps months. There is that familiar stench that you find in these places, that smell that permeates your uniform and requires you to wash it as soon as you get home.

All this would normally be of some interest, but right now my attention is on the large man dancing around in circles screaming incoherently and clutching the side of his head. A perplexed Paramedic stands there and asks me if I know this guy. I say yes, his name is Willy, (for the purpose of this story) and no, he's never acted nuts before. His family concurs, this is a new experience for them as well. We ask if he has been hurt, they say that he was sleeping on the couch and jumped up in a rampage. After fifteen or so minutes of watching him they sent a couple of the kids to the neighbors to call 911, thereby receiving our bemused attention. The paramedic tells me that he was unable to start a dialogue with Willy and would like for me to try as I have received extensive training in how to deal with 603's. Well I don't know what this fool wants me to do, but I figure I should at least give it a try. By now Willy is rolling around on the floor, pounding on the side of his head. Seeing my opportunity I approach Willy and try to restrain him so that he won't hit me. Willy seems to regain some sort of sense at the sight of me and screams that the thing in his head is about to kill him!! Well now this is of some concern to me, Willy has completely flipped out. All the while the dispatcher is trying to get me to answer her and receiving no answer, we can't hear anything but Willy's wide open vocals, she is starting all sorts of cars. My partner who is handling a drunk down the road throws the drunk in the back of his car and races to my aid. The paramedic takes the opportunity to try and talk to Willy, who I have pretty well restrained on the floor, and receives the same reply about the thing in his head.

Paramedics are interesting people, this one decides to look in his ear to see if he can placate Willy. Laughing, the Paramedic gets up, runs out to his ambulance, comes back with a little spray can and squirts some stuff into Willy's ear. He then takes his forceps and pulls a rather large cockroach from the ear canal. Willy is instantly relieved. I hear my partner slide into the driveway and I let Willy up and go outside to tell him what's up and to fall down on the ground laughing out of sight of Willy. After ten or so minutes I regain my composure and return to the room to talk with Willy and the rest. Willy apologizes profusely and explains that it was like having an army marching on his eardrum. The Paramedic, being typical of the breed, gets on the radio using the general frequency, and states, "All secure, 603 is 10-8, (ok), cockroach is 10-70, (dead), all units back in service.