See all posts in the network tagged with
The last week has been pretty slow at The Closet. Now that I said that I’m sure the next few weeks will be absolute insanity.
Now last Friday, that was an exception. To get the whole story out, I have to back up a little.
Last week I had a dream, a nightmare really, that Pseudo Dad and I were working out of Very Inner City Station and that we were getting shot at. Woke up in a cold sweat, heart racing… Wow. Didn’t really want to go back to sleep after that.
The next night I get to work and my partner finds out he has a pager waiting for him at the main station of the Little Private Service. Excellent. We’ve been waiting for these pagers for over a month, so we hop in the rig and head down. We knew that if we were heading that way we’d probably end up picking up a run.
We did. No big shock there.
Then we get asked to go post at Very Inner City Station. I had told Pseudo Dad about my dream the night before. He looks at me and starts with this nervous kind of laugh. “If I hear gunshots, you’re getting out first” He said. Thanks :)
We sit at the station for awhile, then it starts to pour. I don’t have my sweatshirt or my coat with me, so naturally, we get another call. Car accident. I took that one. The patient was pretty upset, but physically okay. She was boarded and collared and delivered safely to the ER.
I didn’t even get time to finish my paperwork when we got another county run. I drove. Here’s all I have to say about this… Kids should not be inhaling fumes from various household items. Mom’s oblivious. For God’s sake. The kid couldn’t even stay on his feet. And I loved his explanation. Mosquito bites. I call BS.
The rest of the night was a mix of paperwork, runs, rig check, and exhaustion. Passed out in the recliner around four am, alarm went off three hours later.
Wow… I just reread what I’ve typed and I can’t believe how boring it is. My apologies. :) Boring is better than something horrific happening. Like actually getting shot at and having to use Pseudo Dad as a human shield :)
My first shift with Pseudo Dad.
*RIIIIIIING*
EpiJunky: “The Closet”
Dispatch: “I have a run for you out of St. Holy Hospital of the North End to Very Large Hospital in Cleveland.”
EpiJunky: Copy that. Enroute.
Pseudo Dad and I get out to the rig… He asks me if I want to drive.
I turn a shade of red. It’s raining and I still am not proficient at parking at St. Holy Hospital.
Pseudo Dad: “We’re going to work on that. I’ll drive for now.”
We meet my Patient, a very pleasant but somewhat anxious woman, very close to my age. I take a few minutes to talk to the patient, gather her belongings, and make sure the correct paperwork is completed. It’s going to be a long drive, the weather is awful, and we want to get on the road. Here’s where I made a mistake. More on that in a bit.
As we’re leaving St. Holy Hospital I get a starting set of vitals, and start to go through the extensive amount of medical records being sent with the patient. At this point I start to ask the patient some questions that I really should have asked before we left the hospital.
EpiJunky: “You’re having surgery?”
Patient: “Yes, I’m actually having a heart transplant”
EpiJunky: “You’re so young… A heart transplant?” I start to read into her medical records a little deeper.
EpiJunky: “You’ve had SIX heart attacks in the past six months?”
Patient nods.
EpiJunky: “You’re going to the best place to have your surgery done…”
I could sense she was very anxious, and I didn’t want her picking up on the fact that I was close to panic.
According to the paperwork she’s had two MI’s in the last ten days. She needs to be on a monitor, and we’re a basic car. We’re driving through a monsoon, two hours to a large hospital, with a cardiac patient, BLS.
What the HELL?
Was it dispatch’s fault for not sending ALS, the hospital’s fault for not relaying to dispatch that this patient needed ALS, or my fault for not picking up on the fact that this patient needed ALS BEFORE we left the hospital. I definitely find myself at fault for not reading her paperwork thoroughly before leaving with her. How could I be so stupid? How could I assume that I had the whole story and just assume that if they called for a BLS truck, it was because the call only warranted BLS? How could I not ask more questions before we left the hospital?
What happens if she starts having chest pain? We’re out in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes 20 miles between towns.
I stifled my panic and kept a close eye on the patient. We talked, joked, discussed jobs, families, etc. I took her vitals every 20 minutes and told the patient that if she had any discomfort whatsoever she was to tell me immediately.
We arrived at the huge hospital without incident and the patient thanked me for making the drive go by so quickly.
You have no idea… I thought… Two hours had felt like two days.
I later questioned my supervisor about it… Maybe I had blown the situation out of proportion. My supervisor, a Paramedic in a management position, blew me off.
“I don’t think it was an ALS run.”
That was all she said.
I came to a realization last night. I want to further my EMS education. I don’t know that this will be my career… I’m far too new for that. And I almost feel like it’s wrong to move on to EMT-I or Paramedic without getting more Basic experience… But I feel like I would be more of an asset to my patients and my employer with some more education.
I guess the positive spin on it would be at least I wont have any long term bad habits to break… Shoot, I haven’t been around long enough to have developed ANY habits. This patient last night sealed the deal for me… If something, GOD FORBID had happened during our transport, with my education, I would not have been able to do anything for this patient other than give them aspirin. Cardiac Arrest? Get out the AED and start pushing, no ACLS drugs coming from me.
This isn’t going to cut it for me, I have a feeling.
Maybe my intermediate this fall, Medic next year or the year after, and RN after that.
I’ll never be done learning.
I had a run yesterday that I’ll never forget. And I really don’t want to.
Some people are going to think that I’m being over emotional about it, and maybe I am… Maybe I don’t care.
It was paged out as a routine run, a transfer. Pick the patient up from Hospital A, take them to Nursing Home B. Then go home and go to bed.
Since we’re already at Hospital A, we find the patient, who’s sleeping in his bed in the ER, and his wife who’s doting on him… I make small talk with his wife, who appears to be my mom’s age…
Pseudo Dad goes off to find the appropriate paperwork.
After several minutes of conversation, our patient’s eyes open and he makes an effort to look at his wife.
A huge smile crosses her face….. She places her hands on his face and speaks gently to him. He makes some unintelligible noises. At this point I realize I have no idea what this patient was being seen for.
He’s in a coma. He’s in a coma and he just responded to his wife’s voice. She’s gleeful. Apparently he’s been in this condition for about two years, they’ve been married for 30. She’s stuck with him, even moving from their home into an apartment several hours away just to be near him while he’s in acute care. (Thanks to insurance crap he can’t stay in a home near his home or even in his own state…)
She speaks to him as if she expects him to answer her, as if he’s the same person he was the day his heart stopped beating. And I understand that, I’ve seen the medical shows, I’ve seen the movies where the nurse takes the spouse aside and explains that the patient may still be able to hear you….
On the way out to the hospital, she encouraged him to look up at the stars… Then she told me that he doesn’t get much opportunity to see them… I had to bite my lip to hold back tears…
Once he was safe in his bed, I had a nice talk with his wife… Apparently he’s making some progress lately… It’s slow going but promising. I could see it in her face… The love she has for him… Wow… It broke my heart for her, what they’ve been through, different nursing homes, the nightmares that go with that, so man hospital visits…. Her being accused of having “unrealistic expectations”…
She’s a special kind of person… They’re lucky to have each other.
I learned… once again… to be so very grateful for every little thing… Even just a night out under the stars.
My thoughts… Nothing earth shattering today… Just basic life kinda stuff.
There are some people who can make a 12 hour shift seem like 48 hours. And there are some people who can make a 12 hour shift seem like an hour and a half. I realize this is true for any job and any shift, but in a job where you have a partner that you live with… It’s even more true.
I’ve been very fortunate over the past several weeks…
A little backstory first. Due to my unfortunate hire date and a new driving policy, Pseudo Dad and I have to be temporarily split up. Being that neither of us can drive code 3 (even though he’s got more driving experience than most of the other employees at the Little Ambulance Service That Could, again, that driving policy… I digress) we have to work our shifts for the next couple weeks with other people. Basically, we show up for our shift and dispatch directs one or the other of us to go to a different station to switch with one of those people. Most of the time they’re cool about it. Sometimes they seem totally put off. And I understand that, I do. As long as they remember *WE* didn’t ask to be put in this position.
Wow, I’m not horribly articulate this morning.
Take last night for example. I worked at 33 with two people who have consistantly made me laugh. And as an EMT, laughter is directly related to sanity. Or insanity maybe… But mostly sanity. There aren’t enough cool people like them in the world.
Okay, enough about that. Here’s a little mini-rant for you.
Who calls 911 because their back hurts? We’re not talking about having your back go out, which has happened to me (I still managed to drive myself to the hospital, btw.) and is seriously painful. We’re talking “Oh my achin’ back”. Seriously? Some of the county calls (911) we get are mind blowing. You have a toothache at 3 in the morning… So the first thing you think is… I better call 911? WTF???? SERIOUSLY…. DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT COSTS TO RIDE IN AN AMBULANCE??? It’s cheaper to call a cab, jump on the bus… call a friend for God’s sake!
The Future Cardiologist knows when it’s appropriate to call 911 — AND HE’S SIX!
I guess it’s job security. And I’m still going to be polite, courteous, professional, etc to each and every one of these people, but lord…
Oh well…. *shrug* Maybe that’s why I enjoy transfers so much… These are people who have a legit reason for needing an ambulance. AND they’re the runs that pay the bills…
I learned something last night… A universal truth.
3am. It’s pouring down rain. It’s cold. It’s a weeknight.
Someone somewhere is drunk and high.
Someone somewhere is pissing off their girlfriend to the point where she’ll beat him over the head with a lead pipe. Then he’ll call 911.
I, of course, will be nice and warm, dreaming a lovely dream at this point. Until the phone rings.
Of course I wont have my warm coat with me at this point in time, which means I’m reduced to a sopping wet, shivering, drowned rat.
So I worked yesterday. I got to stay at The Closet for once… I wish I had taken a picture of our quarters there, you can’t possibly picture how tiny it is. It’s a 10X10 ft. room with a couch and a recliner, but I still don’t think that’s doing it justice. Tonight if I’m lucky enough to get stuck there again I’ll be sure to get a good pic. In two short weeks I’ll be stuck there indefinitely. YAHOOOO! At least I get free coffee and non stop action courtesy of the Local ER (10 feet away from The Closet).
It was a slow night. We got one call around 2am… It woke both of us up.
Let me backtrack a bit. I should probably mention that the overhead lights in The Closet are controlled by a motion sensor. We had it rigged with masking tape several layers thick in an effort to keep the lights from coming on whenever someone coughed. It worked just fine until OCD Partner for the night decided to “redecorate” The Closet. (I should probably add that OCD Partner for the night normally works in a much more spacious station.)
OCD Partner managed to move every piece of furniture in The Closet (ALL THREE OF THEM) to a different wall. In addition to that she decided to peel the several layers of masking tape off of the light sensor in order to apply “a more uniform” layer of tape.
Needless to say every half hour or so the blinding lights would come on, waking us up. This was unacceptable to my partner for the night. She was on the second half of a 24-hour-shift and really just wanted to crawl into her nice bed back at HER quarters. Which I might add (once again) are palatial compared to MY quarters. I digress.
So we had just fallen asleep for the third time when the phone rang with our county call. My mind just doesn’t jump into high gear when I’m woken up yet, which is partly why I have such a hard time sleeping on my shifts. So anyway, the call is literally three blocks from my mom’s house.
We’re lifting the cot into the back of the rig when *HOLY CRIPE* my hand gets caught in the cot once it’s collapsed. Ow ow ow ow OWWWWWWWWW. It’s not broken, thank GOD. (Mental note… my hand does not go *there*… It goes *there*).
At this point my partner tells me she’s heading home, she can’t sleep at our quarters due to the slippery leather couch and lighting issues. So I’m going to get to sleep the rest of the night because we’ll be out of service. What the HELL? Seriously? OCD Partner is going to go home for the night because she was stupid enough to take our intricately applied layer of tape off of the motion sensor AND NOW SHE CAN’T SLEEP?
A postscript: I did discover that when tired enough, one can sleep through the lights coming on and turning off every half hour or so.
Okay… so tomorrow I’m going to take a rig to the Future Cardiologist’s school and give a little talk on EMS.
I’m terrified.
Don’t get me wrong, they’re a great bunch of kids. They really are. But the idea of keeping their wandering attention spans kinda freaks me out. I don’t want to bore them, because as any teacher knows, a bored kindergarten class can be dangerous.
I’ve got some basic points that I want to touch on… When to call 911, when not to… Who will show up if they call 911, what happens on an ambulance… The importance of seat belts… I’m going to let them climb through the rig, sit in the drivers seat, run the lights and sirens (briefly)… I want it to be fun and exciting for them. I don’t want them to be… bored. :)
I don’t know who I’m going with, I hope it’s someone who’s not afraid to talk.
Why is it that I’d rather spend an hour with a drunk homeless person than a kindergarten class? What have I gotten myself in to?
It should be a treat :) Can’t hardly wait.
Well, apparently since Pseudo Dad and I are both new employees we can’t work as partners for 30 days. Never mind the fact hat Pseudo Dad has 16 years of Ambulance and Firetruck driving experience, he still has to serve the 30 days… You gotta love the Little Private Service that Could…
As a result I’m working with any number of partners between now and then… Tonight’s partner, Irritated Burn Out. It’s Cinco De Mayo. I’m in a predominantly Hispanic area.
Drunk person #3: “Do you think I need stitches?”
I look at this person, who’s face is split open above their eye, nose is bleeding, a few other minor lacs… ETOH on board to the degree that I’m catching a contact buzz.
EpiJunky: “I don’t know, I’m not an expert.”
Ten seconds later…
Drunk Person #3: “Do you really think I need stitches?”
EpiJunky: “I’m no expert, but I’m guessing, yes, you probably need stitches.”
Drunk Person #3: “My buddy is a cop, I hope he can find my car.”
EpiJunky: “Well, cops are good friends to have for that.”
Drunk Person: “Do you think I need stitches?”
EpiJunky: “Probably.”
Drunk Person: “I’m going to have a cigarette.”
EpiJunky: “Not a good idea…. See that big oxygen tank over there?”
Drunk Person: “Oh.. Okay… well then, as soon as we get to the hospital then… Do you think I need stitches for this?”
I suspect a head injury in addition to his lacs.
(This continues for another five minutes or so… Then this person realizes I have them strapped to the cot, not restrained, just secured.)
Drunk Person: “Hey, why am I strapped down? Am I under arrest?”
EpiJunky: “Think of them as extra seat belts… can’t have you flying through the back doors if we were in an accident…”
Drunk Person: “Am I under arrest?”
EpiJunky: “I’m not a cop.”
Irritated Burn Out Partner: “I don’t think they’re following us, you’re probably safe.” (Probabloy the nicest thing he said to ANYONE all night.)
Drunk Person: “Thank God they didn’t search me, I have all this Coke on me. Wanna do a line?”
EpiJunky: “Not tonight, thanks…”
(Drunk person reaches into their pocket to pull it’s contents out)
EpiJunky: “HEY… keep that in there, I don’t want to see that.”
Drunk Person: *giggles* “Do you think I need stitches? Do they have a plastic surgeon at *hospital name*? Do you think I’m going to have a scar? I’m sexy you know…”
I’m mentally rolling my eyes at this point while simultaneously praying to the gods that we get to the hospital soon… very soon… like yesterday.
This patient also proposed to me. Just what I need :)
I survived my first shift… It was interesting… I’m just too tired to write much more… maybe later.
Tomorrow I start my official shift at the Little Private Service That Could.
I’m going to be stationed out at the Local ER (know from this point on as “The Closet”). My partner, Pseudo Dad, is new to the company (Hired the same day as I was!) but not EMS… In fact, he’s the Fire Chief from Podunk Twp. THANK GOD!!!
Am I nervous? Yes, a little. If I wasn’t, something would be wrong, right?
I’m confident in what I know, mostly, I just hope what I know is enough for the patients I have in the near future.. I have a lot to learn, and I’m grateful that at the very least, I have an experienced EMT as a partner.
If any of you are reading, please don’t have a massive heart attack in the near vicinity of the Local ER/The Closet tomorrow night. Thanks very much :)
I am an EMT.
A year ago, I had this glorified image of what this meant. Seriously. You picture the dedicated men and women in uniform, flying towards the scene with lights and sirens screaming…. Adrenaline pumping… Saving lives, CPR, broken glass everywhere… Jesus Mother of GOD was I off.
I might have been way off, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love it just as much. I love seeing some of the same people once a week. I love taking care of these people, even if it’s just for a short time on the way to wound care, or on the way home from dialysis…It’s not glamorous, I don’t like vomit, or urine… or nasty sores, or body funk. But the moments where I make someone smile… laugh even… I’m not changing anyone’s life, but as a friend said… God put us here to do what we can for these people…today.
I know that I haven’t been doing this very long… I’m not even sure that there’s a word to describe the shade of green that I am….. But as of right now, bad pay, bad hours, not seeing my kids and husband nearly as much as I should… all of these things… I still love it. I love going into work every day. I guess that’s a good thing, right? People always say to find something you love doing…. I love this job.
Post script: I realize I’ll probably be feeling WILDLY different about this in a few years… I may even grow to hate it… I just hope when that time comes I have the sense to find something else to do.
Mr. Epi Junky got a new job, which means there will be no lapse in pay for him.
A good thing.
We are in a much better mood, collectively. Life is excellent.
I found out I don’t have to serve 30 days as a non-driver at The Little Private Ambulance Service That Could… Although the thought of me, driving an ambulance, particularly code 3…
Yikes, scary stuff.
I’m feeling better too… Yesterday I had a fever from hell, felt like hell, looked like hell… Thank god that’s over with. Just took my temp. No longer febrile! YAY!
Ran around with Best Friend, Drama Queen today, went to St. Charles to get my TB shot read, went to The Little Private Ambulance Service to get aforementioned good news, went to get the kiddo at school… AND GET THIS… She who rules the House (My baby girl) IS WALKING! She took seven consecutive steps at least three times today… Before I know it she’ll be running around.
As you can see, I’m good at babbling… A bunch of random thoughts essentially. So enough for now, got laundry to do, dishes to do, etc.
*RIIIIIIIING*
Older more experienced partner for the night: “21”
Dispatch: “Yeah I have a county run for you, intersection of Apple and Macomber, code 3”
Older more experienced partner for the night: “Allright, on our way down.”
More experienced partner looks at me with a goofy grin on his face. “Just so you know, it’s a car accident.”
I try (in vain I might add) to hide my excitement and not look like a total geek. Oooooh. Code three driving (lights and sirens)… A MVC. I stifle a little giggle as we run down several flights of stairs and out the door into the cool night air. Our squad is ready to go. I am SUCH a geek.
We climb in, and my partner drives. I’ve never driven the huge mod-style ambulance, and I’m not allowed to drive code three yet for insurance purposes.
I pat down the side of my pants, trauma scissors, pens, extra gloves in my pocket… I wonder what the scene will look like… I think about traction splints, ventilation rates… I start to panic when I realize I’m having a hard time remembering what is in what cabinet. What if I can’t find tape??? For God’s sake I’m a mother of two… I’m 30 years old!!!! SURELY I CAN HANDLE THIS!
Older More Experienced Partner senses that I’m starting to get a little nervous and simply says… “Relax. You’re not out there alone. You’ll do fine.”
We travel down one semi-busy road, slowing down at red lights to make sure everyone’s stopped. I can see the scene a few blocks ahead of us. My pulse is taching along at about 120.
I grab the radio.
EpiJunky: “21 to dispatch, we’re on scene”
Dispatch: “Got you on scene 21.”
A police officer waves us over as we pull up. Four ambulances, several cop cars, a few fire trucks… Red, white and blue light bathes the scene. Firefighters in turnout gear surround the car. It’s loud. They’re using the jaws. I can smell diesel and what I can only describe as burnt metal. My eyes are the size of half dollars.
My partner interrupts my near panic, “Oooh, it’s an extrication. Get some gloves… Let’s go.”
I step out of the squad and head toward the scene. I realize after three steps that I’m forgetting something important. My partner is behind the ambulance getting the cot, backboard, and towel rolls out. I curse at myself in my head for getting ahead of myself.
“Forget something?” Older more experienced partner asks, laughing.
I mumble an apology and make a mental note to never do that again.
As we’re approaching the scene a very tall firefighter meets us. He starts to talk, but I have a hard time understanding him over the sound of the jaws.
“The driver….Another ten minutes at least…fractures…” is all I can make out from the fireman.
My partner leans over, “Driver has bilateral open fractures to his lower legs, and it’s going to take another ten minutes to get him out.” I nod and watch the scene.
We’re the last ambulance on the scene at this point, the activity is winding down. The tall firefighter motions for us to come closer. With the jaws turned off and the car finally opened up I see our patient for the first time. A teenager, my nephew’s age. Maybe 17 years old.
Tall firefighter leans closer and whispers “HIV, HEP C.” I nod and relay that information to my partner.
Once in the back of the ambulance I manage to calm my nerves down enough to take the patients blood pressure, listen to his lung sounds, take his pulse, check his pupils and just get a good look at him. Older more experienced partner is doing his assessment. “Do you have scissors on you?” My older partner asks. I hand him mine. “He does have bilateral open fractures. He has multiple abrasions and lacerations over a good portion of his body.” Once again I nod. Poor kid.
Our patient is getting pretty hysterical. He’s terrified, he wants his boyfriend. I’m trying to calm him down enough to get his phone number so we can contact his parents. I nearly jump out of my skin when someone starts banging on the back of the squad.
“LET ME IN!!! THAT’S MY BROTHER!!! LET ME IN NOW!!! HE’S GOT RIGHTS!!!” The voice is yelling. Older more experienced partner is sitting closer to the doors so he cracks the door open. I can’t understand much of the conversation between the two of them.
I look at the patient and ask him if he knows who the guy outside is.
“My boyfriend,” he mumbled quietly. He was starting to cry.
“Older Partner,” I say…. He looks at me. “Boyfriend” I say. Older partner looks at our patient… “You know he can’t come back here,” Partner starts…
Now our patient is sobbing. Partner goes out to deal with the upset boyfriend. I manage to learn from the patient that his boyfriend is 22, our patient is sixteen. He is in fact HIV positive and has Hep C as well. I do my best to explain to him that we have to take him to the ER, his mom will be meeting him there, don’t worry about the car, etc. He manages to calm down.
My partner, older and significantly more experienced (Have I mentioned that yet?) decided to take patient care (He’s an Intermediate), which was fine with me except for one thing. Two actually.
1) He wants a code 3 transport to the hospital and I can’t drive code 3,
2) I’ve NEVER driven a mod and have certainly never had to back one into an angled spot at St. Holy Hospital of the North End.
I quickly relayed my fears to my Older more experienced partner.
“You’ll do fine. It drives like a minivan. Stop at the intersections and when we get to the ER I’ll help you back in.”
He was right, I did just fine, and while I would say that this unit drove like a minivan, it really wasn’t bad. Thank god the ambulance bay was empty, I actually managed to back in with minimal direction from him.
I felt badly about my lack of driving ability and relayed this to my partner as he was writing up the run. He patted me on the back and congratulated me for the smooth ride.
As he finished up his paperwork I cleaned the squad out and reoriented myself with the location of certain things… I forgave myself for the inexperience in driving and promised myself that I’d ask my partner to help me practice parking at St. Holy Hospital.
I exhaled.
(Note: If you find nastyness and bodily fluids something you don’t care to read about, you might want to move on.)
I worked last night…
I realize I’m green… Just about every call is something new and exciting to me still. I haven’t seen much. I’m new. I’m new. I’m new. I’m sure there’s a whole lot worse than the couple of handful of runs I’ve gone on. I have so much to learn.
How do you get past smells that would make the average person at the very least, gag?
The answer, breath through your mouth.
Yesterday I had a patient with high blood pressure and a bloody nose. This patient was very drunk, had to be convinced to leave his bottle complete with paper bag behind (“No sir, I’m sorry we can’t bring your beer…No alcohol in the back of the squad”) and due to their high blood pressure and ETOH on board, their nose was bleeding like a faucet. They also relieved themselves on my cot on the way to the hospital. There was a gross amount of half clotted blood on their shirt, all over their hands and face.
I love the aroma of old blood, stale beer, urine, and maybe a little vomit in the morning!!! Let’s go get some breakfast!
I’m not sure what this gentleman had been through to get to his current position in life… It struck me as sad. This gentleman was someone’s son. I took care of him the best I could, reassured him that he was going to be taken care of, cleaned him up…
In appreciation for my empathetic demeanor (and how great I look in a pair of EMT pants), he proposed to me in the ER. Unfortunately for me, I’m already married and Polygamy is frowned upon in the great state of Ohio. An ER nurse was kind enough to offer to get the guy’s number for me.
I thanked him but declined.
And here’s my first post.
I’m in the process of moving my blog from another unmentionable site to here.
A little setup might be in order.
When the Future Cardiologist (my seven year old son) was just 14 months old, he put something in his mouth and tried to swallow it. It didn’t go well. He put his hands up to his throat in that classic “HEEEEEY! I’m CHOKING here” sign and let’s just say, Epijunky freaked the hell out. I called 911, and wracked my brain trying to remember what I was supposed to do. I did a horrible version of the heimlich maneuver (Thank GOD that little one’s ribs are soft and I didn’t break anything) which did absolutely no good.
Within 2 minutes, the calvary, my heroes, the Fire Department arrived. Future Cardiologist was actually moving some air the entire time thank God, and he started crying shortly after I attempted to break his ribs. The Paramedics reassured me that he was fine, he was crying, and that my son wasn’t going to die. I elevated them to Sainthood.
I promised myself that I’d never allow something like that to happen again. I learned first aid in the Girl Scouts waaaay back in the day (Even got a patch!). I decided that I really did want to become an EMT.
Unfortunately it took me three years to talk myself into enrolling in the course. I had a somewhat inflated version of what an EMT did. I remember telling my baby brother (The Responsible One), of my plans…
Epi Junky: Hey, so I’m going to take that EMT course after all…
Responsible One: You really think you can handle sticking your finger in someone’s bullet hole to stop the bleeding?
Epi Junky: *Gasp* What in the hell did I get myself in to.
Responsible One: Yeah, that’s what I’m wondering. You realize you have two kids and a husband, right?
Epi Junky: I’m doing it FOR them.
I learned pretty quickly I wasn’t going to be sticking my finger in any bullet holes. I learned my life as an EMT-Basic would consist of a lot of late nights, early morning dialysis transfers, and the occasional fun 911 (County) run.
 This blog is part of the Emergency Services Ad Network. For marketing opportunities, please click here |
I wrote a non-EMS related blog. It's about my vagina, and who doesn't want to read about my… (more)
FORCE MORE DOORS IN A DAY THAN YOU HAVE IN YEARS! The Bluffton Twp. Fire District will be hosting… (more)
There was a "life lesson" or some sort of Fire Department training in every task. They worked hard… (more)
Retired Norfolk (VA) firefighter Sara Jones "Jonesy" needs your help in her battle with cancer.… (more)
Recent Comments