En Route; A Paramedic's Stories of Life, Death and Everything In Between

Who here likes to read?

Okay, silly question for a blog.

How about this: Who here likes to read kick-ass writing that grabs you by the throat and by brute force alone refuses to let you turn away?

Lots of hands; great.

Who here has ever read a blog written by a dude who goes by the nom-de-blog Ambulance Driver whose real name is Kelly Grayson and whose kick-ass writing grabs you by the throat and by brute force alone refuses to let you turn away?

Okay, anyone who didn't raise their hands needs to make with the clicky. Suffice it to say, you don't know what you're missing.

Next question: Who here has ever had the desperate need to move away from the computer for one reason or another but has found themselves grabbed by the throat by the brute force of AD's writing, refusing to let you turn away?

For you, I have wonderful news.

Now available everywhere is AD's book, En Route; A Paramedic's Stories of Life, Death and Everything In Between. What this means is that you can read a combination of the most gripping stories ever to appear on AD's blog, mixed in with new stuff that's just as kick-ass gripping that you've never read before -- and not be stuck in front of your computer! This is an actual book -- paper and everything -- that you can carry with you and read anywhere. In the airport; on a plane; in the john (my preferred locale); anywhere you want to sit, lie, recline. No longer are you tied to a screen and keyboard. You are free.

But you have to buy the book.

I dare you to read Kelly's re-telling of a ten-year-old case as he sits outside the house remembering, without choking up. That holds true even if you've read it before. A tiny sample:

When you're a father as well as a cop or EMT, your particular curse is that you see your child's face in every tragedy. You see your teenager in the bloody, broken face you pull from the wreckage of his graduation present. You see your wife's face when you knock on a stranger's door at three-thirty AM to tell her that her daugher has died. And you see your infant's face somewhere in that purple, mottled face of a baby wearing fuzzy yellow pajamas, and you start CPR even though your rational mind reports that you are far too late in coming.

There's more. In case I haven't already made it abundantly clear, this is kick-ass writing that grabs you by the throat and by brute force alone refuses to let you turn away. It's the best of AD, his highs and his lows, and not to be missed. All I can say is, Kelly: you rock.