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Downward Spiral

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The following post involves a few close friends of mine, and revolves around Domestic Violence. Some of it may be difficult to read.

If you or someone you know is in a like situation, there is help out there. Get Help.

Break the silence, make the call.

**********

“Where’s dinner?” Brian had just walked through the door, cast aside his briefcase, kicked off his shoes and unceremoniously plopped down onto the recliner in one fluid motion. She knew he was in a bad mood instantly. After ten years of marriage you could just tell these things. Long gone were the days where he would greet her warmly, pull her into his arms and kiss her on the forehead.

Marie reached into the fridge to pull out a tray of marinating chicken breasts. She knew she should have had dinner on the table for him, he had what she was sure was a long day. All three of her phone calls to him over the course of the day had gone unanswered.

“Marie,” Brian paused to calm his breathing. “Please tell me you’re not just starting it now,” He checked his watch for dramatic effect. “It’s after five already!”

“I… I’m… I’m sorry… The kids were insane today. Morgan found vaseline and painted herself and the wall in her room with it. Aiden and that little brat next door got into another fight and he has a black eye. I spent the afternoon doing damage control.”

Brian just rolled his eyes. He unfolded the newspaper and turned to the tech section while Marie finished up dinner.

“Daaaadddyyyyy!!!!!!” Three year old Morgan came bounding into the living room, her freshly washed strawberry blonde pig tails bouncing with each step. Brian set down the paper, his face lighting up at the sight of his daughter. “Hello Peanut, how are you?” He played a quick game of “Got yer nose” and reduced her to hysterical giggles.

Marie watched quietly from kitchen doorway.

**********
“Dad, we’re going to Grandma’s tonight!” Aiden was picking at his dinner, too excited to eat.

“Oh really? Well that should be fun.” He eyed Marie suspiciously. “When did you decide that,” he asked her under his breath.

Marie chose her words carefully. “She called earlier. She wants to take them to the zoo tomorrow.”

“THE ZOOOOO!!!!” Morgan squeeled, her hands flailing, knocking over her cup of milk.

“DAMMIT Morgan!!!” Brian stood up, milk dripping off of him. Morgan shuttered. Aiden stared at his plate.

“Brian it was an accident. Calm down.” Marie reached for a towel and sopped up the puddles of milk. He stomped off to the bedroom to change his clothes, muttering under his breath the entire way.

Morgan sat at the table crying. Marie wrapped her arms around her. “Baby, it’ll be okay. Daddy didn’t mean to yell at you.”

He meant to yell at me.

“Why is Dad so mad? Doesn’t he like Grandma?” Aiden was her tenderhearted one. It had been easy over the last several months to pretend that he didn’t see what was happening between his parents. Marie knew better.

“Aiden, Daddy had a long day. He loves you both very much. You know how you feel when things go wrong at school? Like when you and Jason fight, and then your teacher yells at you, and then you find out that the school lunch isn’t something that you like? Like everything is going wrong, right?”

Aiden nodded slowly.

“You feel sad, and angry and upset, right?”

Aiden nodded again.

“Now imagine that you had the worst day EVER at school and then you came home and Mom and Dad yelled at you and grounded you for no reason.”

“Ohhh, Okay.” He was getting it.

“That’s how Daddy feels today. When you come home tomorrow he’ll feel better.” She gave him a long tight hug.

“I hope so, Mom.”

Me too, Sweetheart.

**********

“I’m SORRY! I’m sorry that dinner was a little late! I’m sorry that I snapped at you in front of the kids! I’m sorry that I wrote a check and forgot to put it in the register!”

“Marie it’s more than just that. You’re fucking impossible, you know that? Can you do anything right? What the hell happened to you?” Brian stood in the doorway to their bedroom.

“You slept with my best friend, for one.” Marie knew the impact that statement would have on Brian the second it escaped her lips. She inhaled deeply and put the shirt she was folding into the drawer of her dresser. Instant regret.

She had found out about the affair by accident three months before. Her entire world crashed down around her since. They had what appeared to be the perfect marriage. Even after almost ten years they still held hands, they still went out together and still managed to have fun. Up until three months before, that is. Now most nights consisted of the two of them yelling at eachother behind a closed bedroom door.

Brian alternated between being the most wonderful apologetic husband, bringing her roses and rubbing her feet, and being a raving psychotic lunatic, throwing things, screaming, and eventually hitting her. Marie was at her wits end. Trying to hold together ten years of marriage for her kids sake. Trying to figure out how she could have missed an affair that had lasted almost a year. Trying to figure out what she had done to push the love of her life into a relationship with her closest friend. Most days she felt like she was fighting a losing battle.

She wanted to believe she could fix things. She made sure no one knew what was going on. She hid the bruises well. The ones she couldn’t hide she explained away easily. She did her best to keep him happy, believing that if Brian was happy, she would eventually be happy again.

“You’re really going to go there? You’re going to bring that up again? See, this is EXACTLY what I’m talking about. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to pick a fight with me? Are you trying to piss me off?”

“No, I’m not trying to piss you off. I just want to go to bed.” Marie was emotionally and physically exhausted. Her voice was shaking now. She was so grateful that the kids were with her Mother. The laundry was all put away. She struggled to find something to focus her attention on.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to sleep with other women if you were more of a woman yourself. You’re nothing but a lazy slob. You do nothing around here to contribute. You’re a shitty mother, and an even worse wife. “

A switch flipped in Marie. “Excuse me? Are you serious? Everything, Brian, EVERYTHING I have done over the last ten years I’ve done for us and our kids. YOU are the one who decided to lose his fucking mind and go screw that WHORE! I take care of these kids, I clean this house and make your meals for you. I take these kids everywhere they need to go. I do everything for them, and for you. I can’t even believe you’re saying this — You have lost…your…mind!” She found herself screaming at him, months of rage attempting to come out. She wanted to throw something, but quickly thought better of it.

The sting hit her b
ef
ore she even realized what happened. A wave of warmth ran through her face. Her nose was bleeding. He had hit her. Again.

Marie was pissed. She shoved him as hard as she could, but his 6’5″ frame didn’t budge. The two of them struggled for a brief few seconds before Brian pinned her down to the bed. “IF I’ve lost my mind, it’s because you’ve forced me to it. If I’ve fucked that WHORE as you call her, it’s because I needed to be with a REAL woman.” Brian’s face was inches away from hers, screaming. Spit flew from his lips as Marie struggled to free herself. She managed to knee him between the legs, he let out a yell and rolled off of her, onto his back on the bed. Seeing her opportunity she lept to her feet and bolted for the door.

“You… BITCH!” He cried out. Adrenaline coursing through his veins he got up and chased after her.

Marie could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she fumbled with the front door.

Why didn’t I switch out that old lock like my Dad said I should? Dammit… Open up… open up…

She struggled with the lock with shaking hands until it turned. Brian reached over her head slamming the door closed. He dragged her back to the bedroom by her hair and shirt. “You’re…going… to pay for that…” He panted. Marie grabbed on to anything she could.

Oh my God. He’s going to kill me.

**********

“Hey Joe, How’s Lisa doing?” I pull on my purple gloves and jump out of the squad.

We had just rolled up on the scene, our red and white lights bouncing off the houses that are stacked so close together that they almost touch. Neighbors peer out of their windows trying in vain to figure out what’s going on.

Joe is one of Toledo’s Finest. He’s also a good friend of mine from high school. We had remained in contact off an on throughout the years. “Uhm, hey Epi. I was kinda hoping this wouldn’t be you responding.”

I stop short of retrieving the stretcher from the back of the truck. “What the hell, Joe?”

OCD Partner laughs out loud. “Obviously your reputation precedes you, Epi!”

I look at OCD Partner with a look of disgust that startles her.

NOT Funny.

“Joe? What’s going on?” I’m getting frustrated. Joe, for his part, is white as a sheet. “Dude, you’re scaring me.”

“It’s Marie, Epi.” Joe is nervously twisting his wedding ring around his left ring finger. “She’s not going to want to see you… She kicked me out of the house already.”

“Marie?!? Marie Jackson? What happened, is she okay?” Marie was a mutual friend of ours. Her son went to school with Future Cardiologist.

“Brian beat the shit out of her.” Joe wiped the sweat from his brow. “She’s refusing to press charges.”

“Where is Brian now?” OCD partner and I pulled the stretcher out and made our way to the sidewalk, Joe walked beside us. From what I remember about Brian, he was a big guy.

“He’s in there. She’s saying she fell down the stairs. That’s her story and she’s sticking to it. Of course he’s all sweetness and fricking light now.” Joe led us into the house. “Epi, go talk to her, I’ll get him out of the house for a little talk of our own.”

Marie’s house was just as I had remembered it. It was the house she had grown up in. It was the house that we had countless sleepovers in. It was in Marie’s back yard that I learned my flag corp routine for the tryouts. It was in Marie’s basement that I was first kissed by a boy.

“Marie? Baby where are you?” I heard a commotion coming from the back bedroom, the room that had been Marie’s parents.

“Back here…” A female firefighter waved me and OCD partner back.

OCD looked completely lost. “Epi, what the fuck is going on?”

“I know her,” was all I could get out. We rounded the corner into Marie and Brian’s very crowded bedroom. Three Firefighter/Medics, a police officer and Marie and Brian.

“Marie?” I could barely recognize her. Her face was bloodied and starting to swell, her beautiful strawberry blonde hair matted with blood and sweat. Brian was holding her, rocking her, and running his hands up and down her arms. Marie cringed at his touch.

“Epi? Epi? How are you girl?”

“Uhm… I’m okay… ” What the hell… Nothing here is making sense.

**********

The conclusion later on tonight.

I'm back… :)

5 comments

Kinda.

I’ve been out of town for a bit, hung out with some awesome folks and had a wonderful time.

Something worth reading tomorrow, I promise :)

Happy Monday (Well, it's Tues. but still)

4 comments

Step One: Hurt your back while lifting one of eight bariatric patients.

Step Two: The tooth I need to have a root canal done on is KILLING me.

Step Three: Flat tire.


Yes folks, THIS is what was stuck in my effing tire.

Happy Monday. Or Tuesday.

Crashed out.

6 comments
She Who Rules.

S/P Excessive Chocolate Milk intake. Some of you will understand.

Oh… and one more thing…

6 comments

Mr. Spammer…

Knock it the fuck off. Lest I kick your ass. And I have been trained. Trust me.

Seriously.

You are a part of the reason why my comments all have to be approved.

How to know you are liked by your coworkers….

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A text conversation between myself and a coworker…

Favorite Fill In Partner: Do you still need Mon the 18th covered?

Epi: Yes.

Favorite Fill In Partner: In the hopes that your car crashes on the interstate on the way there (or on the way back) I’ll take it.

Epi: Hopefully that scorching case of weeping crotch rot doesn’t turn gangrenous. Have a good night.

Favorite Fill In Partner: I’ll take that as a thank you. F*** You. Die.

Epi: Thank you, FFIP.

**********

Okay, so maybe we’re not right.

A Little Flutter…

4 comments
A contribution to NSR… an EMS writing project. Check it out here.


We were perfectly comfortable sunning ourselves on a beautiful July day. On of those days where the sky is a gorgeous blue, dotted with puffy white clouds. One of those days where you really wish you weren’t working.

I’m at my “Happy Place” literally and figuratively. We’re posted at the park, Marine Corp Partner and I. We’re happily scarfing down our EMS lunch of Taco Bell and bottles of water.

My Happy Place

Kids are busy playing on the playground equipment. A Father and Son fish nearby. There’s a group of guys playing volleyball on a sandy court across the parking lot. Two of them have their shirts off. I’m reminded of a certain scene from Top Gun. Marine Corp Partner would fit right in. All he’s missing is the Ray Bans which he tells me in no uncertain terms he “Would NEVER EVER wear”.

“Base to 120, One-Two-Oh”

The portable is sitting five feet away, staring us down.

Marine Corp Partner is closer… He rolls his eyes and reaches for the portable. “Unit 120. Go ahead.”

“Unit One Two Oh, we’re going to need you to respond to House of MRSA, Code Three for Tachycardia with Mental Status Changes. That’s Code Three for Mental Status Changes.”

“One Twenty is clear, put us enroute.”

I’m already picking up my purse, Taco Bell bag and cell phone. Happy Place denied.

**********

She’s the quintessential Grandmother from the bluish hair to the hundreds of pictures of her grandchildren that are sprinkled throughout her otherwise stark white room. I feel a warm rush go through me. One of familiarity. She reminds me of my own Grandma.
“Ma’am… How are you feeling today?” Marine Corp Partner starts assessing her while I get the lowdown from the nursing staff.

“Ohhhh I’m doing okay. Just a little flutter in my chest.” She looks at me, “My goodness you’re quite tall!” I get this a lot. When you’re a 6’1″ redheaded female folks tend to notice. And comment on it. Constantly.

“Yes Ma’am, I sure am. I blame it on well water. I’m going to have to ask you some questions, Mrs. Grossman… Do you know where you are?”

“At MRSA. Why does everyone keep asking me that?” She laughs, but is clearly getting annoyed.

“I’m sorry to have to ask you all of these questions that you’ve already been asked a thousand times… Bare with me.” I hold her hand and squeeze… She smiles in spite of all of the drama taking place around her. “Would it be okay, Mrs. Grossman, if I hooked you up to this monitor to get a better look at your heart?”

“Of course dear.” Mrs. Grossman is a little short of breath, but she looks okay. “I bet you played basketball.”

“I played Volleyball and Softball, was never very good at Basketball unfortunately.” I hook the last of the leads up and turn the LifePak on. I pull the blanket up over her bare legs and waist.

Gotta keep her modest ya know.

Marine Corp Partner and I watch the monitor.

Is that… HOLY Crap… It is….

This is roughly what marches across the display. (Forgot to make a copy of the strip. Instant fail on my part.)

Well Hello there, Mr. SVT. How are you today? I check the leads. No changes. She’s taching along at a rate of about 180. I reach for her wrist to check her radial pulse, I just can’t believe she doesn’t look worse than she does. Her pulse is too fast for me to count.

“Ma’am, I’m going to put you on a little oxygen, would that be okay?” I’m reaching for a NRB in the O2 bag.

“Well, I guess…” Her voice is starting to get shaky. We’re making her nervous. I kneel down next to the side of her bed and gently put the NRB on her.

“You just relax and let us take good care of you, okay?” I squeeze her hand again.

Marine Corp Partner steps in, “Well, Mrs. Grossman… Your heart is working overtime, it’s close to three times faster than it should be. Now, I can fix this with some medicine. Okay? We’ll get you all fixed up and you’ll be able to put on that fancy red hat and go dancing before you know it!”

Mrs. Grossman is put at ease by MCP. “Well dear, I don’t really dance much anymore. Have you seen some of the men in here?”

MCP laughs out loud. “Well, when this is all over with I’ll come dance with you, how would that be?” MCP has a gorgeous smile and dimples deep enough to do shots out of. Mrs. Grossman is a fan.

He plunges the 18 ga. needle in her left AC, she doesn’t even wince. She’s too busy trying to not look sick. I hand him tape to secure it. He thanks me and asks for the adenosine and a flush. I have it already sitting on my lap.

Score one for me. I’m trying desperately to anticipate what MCP will need. For once I’m prepared.

MCP is studying the monitor one more time. On these emergency runs I’ve been finding myself so grateful that I’ve been through Medic school, had I been a brand new Basic I would be terrified.

Oddly (I’m embarrassed to admit this), I’m excited. I want to see this woman’s rhythm corrected.

**********

“Ma’am… You’re going to feel a little discomfort.”

Okay, so MCP isn’t lying. She IS going to feel a little discomfort. From what I understand it’s like a sledgehammer to the chest. “A little discomfort” is kind of understating it a bit… But I guess telling someone you’re aiming to stop and reset their heart is probably a little too much information.

Mrs Grossman nods.

I find myself holding my breath as MCP pushes the first syringe filled with
th
e drug and then rapidly follows with the flush. He elevates the arm. We’re both watching the monitor. I’m still holding her hand. Her nails are painted with a pretty pink color.

Mrs. Grossman’s HR drops from 182 to asystole.

I get an instant cardiac woody.

“And that, Epi, would be asystole.” MCP is smiling again. If I wasn’t so intrigued by the whole process, I’m sure I would have fired back with a sarcastic comment.

“How long?” I ask him.

“How long for what?”

How long until her pulse comes back?” This has all been fun to watch, but watching asystole without doing CPR is kind of unnerving.

“Any second now….”

I was scared, I’ll admit it. We took a woman who had a beating heart, who was alive, who was TALKING to me just a minute ago. We gave her a drug, and now her heart is not beating.

Please live… Please live… Please live… I’m praying. I don’t pray nearly as much as I should, but I find myself making promises in return for a rhythm. Any rhythm.

Just give us something we can fix… Please…

Nothing. A flat line continues to roll across the display on the LP.

“MCP… How long has it been?”

“Patience, Epi.”

“Please…. Please Live.”

Now I’m praying outloud. Fantastic.

“Epi…just wait.”

It was just like a movie. For once things went as they were supposed to.

*blip*

I held my breath. Is that a pulse? Seriously?


It was. I could feel her pulse.

I could feel her pulse.

**********

Sometimes they do live.

Epi's Got a Gun…

7 comments

Okay, so I don’t have a gun. McHottie and I are working on that.

But I did go shooting.

No pics of myself (chalk it up to a bad hair day), but I do have one of McHottie’s backside. I mean… his back. It’s not the Garand, but it was still fun.


I might be getting addicted.

Stuck on my camera. POTD

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One of the drawbacks to having a digital camera is that pictures tend to… linger.

I have over a hundred pics on my SD card that have yet to be converted from .raw format. I have close to 20 that I plan on having printed but haven’t had the time to make the trip to the lab yet.

Back in the “old days” I would finish a roll of film and take it in to the lab within a few days. Now they can linger for months.

From last week:

The kiddies.
Future Cardiologist on the way home from the Wave Pool

She Who Rules, similarly passed out.

Port Clinton (no jokes needed, thanks), Ohio.
Otherwise titled “Where I am vs. Where I wish I was”

A Little Flutter…

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A contribution to NSR… an EMS writing project. Check it out here.


We were perfectly comfortable sunning ourselves on a beautiful July day. On of those days where the sky is a gorgeous blue, dotted with puffy white clouds. One of those days where you really wish you weren’t working.

I’m at my “Happy Place” literally and figuratively. We’re posted at the park, Marine Corp Partner and I. We’re happily scarfing down our EMS lunch of Taco Bell and bottles of water.

My Happy Place

Kids are busy playing on the playground equipment. A Father and Son fish nearby. There’s a group of guys playing volleyball on a sandy court across the parking lot. Two of them have their shirts off. I’m reminded of a certain scene from Top Gun. Marine Corp Partner would fit right in. All he’s missing is the Ray Bans which he tells me in no uncertain terms he “Would NEVER EVER wear”.

“Base to 120, One-Two-Oh”

The portable is sitting five feet away, staring us down.

Marine Corp Partner is closer… He rolls his eyes and reaches for the portable. “Unit 120. Go ahead.”

“Unit One Two Oh, we’re going to need you to respond to House of MRSA, Code Three for Tachycardia with Mental Status Changes. That’s Code Three for Mental Status Changes.”

“One Twenty is clear, put us enroute.”

I’m already picking up my purse, Taco Bell bag and cell phone. Happy Place denied.

**********

She’s the quintessential Grandmother from the bluish hair to the hundreds of pictures of her grandchildren that are sprinkled throughout her otherwise stark white room. I feel a warm rush go through me. One of familiarity. She reminds me of my own Grandma.
“Ma’am… How are you feeling today?” Marine Corp Partner starts assessing her while I get the lowdown from the nursing staff.

“Ohhhh I’m doing okay. Just a little flutter in my chest.” She looks at me, “My goodness you’re quite tall!” I get this a lot. When you’re a 6’1″ redheaded female folks tend to notice. And comment on it. Constantly.

“Yes Ma’am, I sure am. I blame it on well water. I’m going to have to ask you some questions, Mrs. Grossman… Do you know where you are?”

“At MRSA. Why does everyone keep asking me that?” She laughs, but is clearly getting annoyed.

“I’m sorry to have to ask you all of these questions that you’ve already been asked a thousand times… Bare with me.” I hold her hand and squeeze… She smiles in spite of all of the drama taking place around her. “Would it be okay, Mrs. Grossman, if I hooked you up to this monitor to get a better look at your heart?”

“Of course dear.” Mrs. Grossman is a little short of breath, but she looks okay. “I bet you played basketball.”

“I played Volleyball and Softball, was never very good at Basketball unfortunately.” I hook the last of the leads up and turn the LifePak on. I pull the blanket up over her bare legs and waist.

Gotta keep her modest ya know.

Marine Corp Partner and I watch the monitor.

Is that… HOLY Crap… It is….

This is roughly what marches across the display. (Forgot to make a copy of the strip. Instant fail on my part.)

Well Hello there, Mr. SVT. How are you today? I check the leads. No changes. She’s taching along at a rate of about 180. I reach for her wrist to check her radial pulse, I just can’t believe she doesn’t look worse than she does. Her pulse is too fast for me to count.

“Ma’am, I’m going to put you on a little oxygen, would that be okay?” I’m reaching for a NRB in the O2 bag.

“Well, I guess…” Her voice is starting to get shaky. We’re making her nervous. I kneel down next to the side of her bed and gently put the NRB on her.

“You just relax and let us take good care of you, okay?” I squeeze her hand again.

Marine Corp Partner steps in, “Well, Mrs. Grossman… Your heart is working overtime, it’s close to three times faster than it should be. Now, I can fix this with some medicine. Okay? We’ll get you all fixed up and you’ll be able to put on that fancy red hat and go dancing before you know it!”

Mrs. Grossman is put at ease by MCP. “Well dear, I don’t really dance much anymore. Have you seen some of the men in here?”

MCP laughs out loud. “Well, when this is all over with I’ll come dance with you, how would that be?” MCP has a gorgeous smile and dimples deep enough to do shots out of. Mrs. Grossman is a fan.

He plunges the 18 ga. needle in her left AC, she doesn’t even wince. She’s too busy trying to not look sick. I hand him tape to secure it. He thanks me and asks for the adenosine and a flush. I have it already sitting on my lap.

Score one for me. I’m trying desperately to anticipate what MCP will need. For once I’m prepared.

MCP is studying the monitor one more time. On these emergency runs I’ve been finding myself so grateful that I’ve been through Medic school, had I been a brand new Basic I would be terrified.

Oddly (I’m embarrassed to admit this), I’m excited. I want to see this woman’s rhythm corrected.

**********

“Ma’am… You’re going to feel a little discomfort.”

Okay, so MCP isn’t lying. She IS going to feel a little discomfort. From what I understand it’s like a sledgehammer to the chest. “A little discomfort” is kind of understating it a bit… But I guess telling someone you’re aiming to stop and reset their heart is probably a little too much information.

Mrs Grossman nods.

I find myself holding my b
re
ath as MCP pushes the first syringe filled with the drug and then rapidly follows with the flush. He elevates the arm. We’re both watching the monitor. I’m still holding her hand. Her nails are painted with a pretty pink color.

Mrs. Grossman’s HR drops from 182 to asystole.

I get an instant cardiac woody.

“And that, Epi, would be asystole.” MCP is smiling again. If I wasn’t so intrigued by the whole process, I’m sure I would have fired back with a sarcastic comment.

“How long?” I ask him.

“How long for what?”

How long until her pulse comes back?” This has all been fun to watch, but watching asystole without doing CPR is kind of unnerving.

“Any second now….”

I was scared, I’ll admit it. We took a woman who had a beating heart, who was alive, who was TALKING to me just a minute ago. We gave her a drug, and now her heart is not beating.

Please live… Please live… Please live… I’m praying. I don’t pray nearly as much as I should, but I find myself making promises in return for a rhythm. Any rhythm.

Just give us something we can fix… Please…

Nothing. A flat line continues to roll across the display on the LP.

“MCP… How long has it been?”

“Patience, Epi.”

“Please…. Please Live.”

Now I’m praying outloud. Fantastic.

“Epi…just wait.”

It was just like a movie. For once things went as they were supposed to.

*blip*

I held my breath. Is that a pulse? Seriously?


It was. I could feel her pulse.

I could feel her pulse.

**********

Sometimes they do live.

Five Steps? Is that all???

3 comments

The pager says “5 steps”.

Five steps? With a patient who weights over 400 pounds? Who can’t sit upright in a stair chair? With a stretcher on a day when I *did NOT* have my Wheaties?

No wonder my back is killing me.

Just sayin’.

Epi's Quote of the Day…

7 comments

While working as a lift assist to a particularly nasty patient….

“Please… Sir… Don’t play with your colostomy bag. I’m begging here.”

McHottie news…

4 comments

Well Ladies… McHottie is no longer my partner.

I know, I know… there will be hysterical sobbing, foot stomping, and gnashing of teeth.

At least that’s what he thinks :)

He’s moving on to greener pastures. A non-EMS job, but one that I know he’ll rock anyway. He’s going to be missed by a couple of co-workers… And several patients.

And myself. Just don’t tell him that because I’ll deny it.

And just in case he stumbles across this post… Screw you, McHottie. :))

Danielle…Learning to laugh.

4 comments

They found her three years ago.


In a roach infested home, in a diaper that was overflowing… She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t feed herself. She had been left alone for most of her life.

She was sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Covered in human and animal feces.

“Thousands of roach bites.”
“The worst case of child neglect I’ve ever seen”
“She functioned like a baby.”

Folks, Danielle… She was seven when they found her. Read her story.


The Mother, Michelle Crockett,got two years of house arrest in exchange for giving up her parental rights. Her response to the state taking Danielle away makes me… I don’t know. LESS than sympathetic. She says if she didn’t have bad luck she’d have no luck at all.

EVERYONE has bad luck. Hell. Bloody frickin’ HELL. Welcome to the real world honey.

Danielle has since been adopted by a wonderful family and is now eating with a fork, responding to her name, and has “learned to laugh”.

I’m ashamed to admit that this is the first I’ve heard of Danielle. (Thanks Stacy for the link.) Reading it has simultaneously horrified and captivated me, and given me hope for her.

God Bless ya, Baby.

NSR Week 7 is up

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NSR is up! This week’s theme is “kids”. Go on over and check it out!

Mom?

4 comments

This post is my contribution to NSR for this week. NSR is a collaborative project by EMS bloggers across the country. Go check it out!

Future Cardiologist and She Who Rules (August 08 – Epijunky)

“Mom?”

“Yes, FC, what’s up?”

“Can you come to my school on Thursday? We’re having Lunch With a Loved One!” FC is practically bouncing off the walls he’s so excited.

My heart instantly aches.

“Baby, come sit down next to me.” I’m sitting on the floor folding a load of clothes. I pat a space on the floor as I start to explain that I can’t come on Thursday. I wish I could, I really do, but it’s just not going to be possible this time. The excitement fades from his face and is replaced with disappointment.

It had been four months since I started at the Evil Green Empire. I had just started working a new schedule that gave me my nights and weekends off, but effectively kept me away from home during the day on weekdays.

It’s been a difficult adjustment for FC and She Who Rules. We’ve been spoiled for the last several years. I’ve always had a job that’s allowed me to be home during most days. I’ve been able to be chaperone, Lunch Mom, keeper of the Cheerios and fixer of the booboo’s. I’ve spent countless mornings dancing to the Wiggles with She Who Rules and playing with Thomas The Tank Engine or searching for the missing Pokemon cards with FC.

Up until recently, that is. Now a babysitter rations out the cheerios and wipes away the tears. She’s a great sitter, the kids love her. But she’s not Mom.

“So, you understand, right FC? I’m sure that if your Dad can’t go that Grandma or your Uncle would LOVE to come out and have lunch with you.” I’m struggling to sound upbeat while I hand a pair of uniform pants up. My words hang in the air. FC’s not talking. Apparently I wasn’t the only one struggling.

“But I want you to come.”

Oh, Baby, just twist that knife a little harder.

“FC, I wish I could.”

How can I make you understand, FC? How do I tell you that I’m doing this job, I’m working these hours, for all of us? He knows I love my job. In the beginning he loved it too. Now he sees it solely as the reason I’m not home. He’s come to resent it, and it breaks my heart. He doesn’t yet understand that most parents have to work long hours during the day.

“Mom?”

“FC, I’m sorry honey. I promise to make it up to you this weekend. You name it, we’ll do it. Within reason.”

“Mom, it’s okay. You have to help people, right? They kind of need you?” He rests his head on my arm and plays with the watch I wear on my left wrist.

I look at my son and smile. “Yes, sweetheart, they kind of need me.”

“Maybe next time you can come?”

I’ll be there even if I have to take a sick day to do it.

“Do you think Uncle Responsible One will really come out and have lunch?” He looks up at me, his hazel eyes bright and smiling once again.

“I think he would LOVE to do that. He’ll probably bring you a Happy Meal too!”

“Okay then. I guess that’s okay. Do you think he’ll bring me a milkshake?”

So you can bounce off the walls the rest of the afternoon at school? Your teacher will love that.

“Mom? Can you bring the ambulance to school like you did before?”

“You really want me to? I thought you didn’t like my job anymore?” I push the empty laundry basket aside and pull FC into my lap.

“You have the coolest job ever, Mom. You get to help people. You get to drive around in an ambulance and play with the lights and that loud horn. You have all kinds of cool stuff in the back. You are good at your job. It kinda rocks! And besides, Jeremy’s Mom doesn’t even have a job!”

*blink* I have no idea what to say.

FC doesn’t wait for me to conjur up a response. He starts bouncing around like he’s already had the aforementioned milkshake. Supersized. “Please Mom? Please Please Please? And can I be the one to turn the siren on this time? Pleeeeease?”

“Absolutely, FC. I can’t wait.” I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed the breath out of him.

Sometimes the teacher becomes the student. He understands more than I give him credit for. I shouldn’t be surprised, he is my son after all.

As AD would say… In Lieu of Actual Content…

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My NSR submission and another post will be up tomorrow…. Until then a Photo of the Day.

Diamonds in the Rough (July 08 – Epijunky)

Hey… look… it's a gerbil….

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And it’s running my internet connection. :)

I’m staying with my Mom for awhile… She just happens to be my own personal equivalent of the Unabomber.

Yes, it’s that bad.

She’s basically running the same computer we bought together over ten years ago. And she’s on dial up. Kiddies… that’s a connection to your phone line… about 56k.

Here’s how the last hour went.

Boot up: 10 minutes.

Click on Internet Explorer: 2 minutes.

Time it takes to connect: 3 minutes.

Basically I type out what I want to do and walk away for several minutes while the gerbil in my Mom’s computer works himself into a cardiac fit.

Expect posting for the next few days to be extremely light.