For years, a single family, the Morgans, ran the volunteer ambulance service in La Barge, Wyoming. A town of some five hundred people, La Barge is nestled in a barren, beautiful corner of the state between the Green River and the base of the Wyoming Range. Lyle and Tammy Morgan, who were in their forties, would alternate shifts with Ginnie, their daughter, and Joey, who was then Ginnie’s husband. The phone would ring, and either the older couple or the younger couple would drive to the ambulance station—if they weren’t already there—climb into the ambulance, and drive past miles of sagebrush and rock formations to the home of a sheepish oil-field worker whose wife made him call, or that of a begowned old matriarch whose chest hurt. Then they’d take the patient’s vitals, load him or her onto a stretcher, and drive to the nearest hospital, South Lincoln Medical Center, in Kemmerer, which is fifty miles from La Barge. One evening in October of 2008, Ginnie got a call. Her father had collapsed at home. When she and Joey arrived with the ambulance, Lyle was in cardiac arrest. By the time they got him to Kemmerer, he was dead. After… Read full this story
- The Navy, grace and Star Wars: three ways to heal America
- Death truck was in convoy of THREE: Devastated families say more than 100 migrants were smuggled into UK but only two lorries made it - as two new victims are named and wife tells how she helped victim raise £11k for trip
- Voice of the outback
In Rural America, There Are Few People Left to Drive the Ambulances have 263 words, post on www.newyorker.com at January 15, 2019. This is cached page on Konitono. If you want remove this page, please contact us.