Friday, January 23, 2009
An EMT from the scene tells all....
The fact that this EMT was exploiting this family and their grief was bad enough. I don't know the HIPPA laws in the Bahamas, but morally, trying to make yourself famous by talking about a 16 year old's death is just repugnant. I don't care who the family is.
But I let it slip from my memory, only to read this today:
A paramedic from the scene of Jett Travolta's death is being charged with extortion
If you read the articles, it's two different folks from the crew. Which means at least two people from the crew that day were just ready and eager to tell their tale, and grab their 15 minutes of fame.
Any decent EMT or paramedic would never seek to exploit their patients or their pain, even if it isn't against the law to talk about what you saw or did.
It's just wrong...and it's got me bugged about it.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
It's a rule in EMS... It's a self preservation kind of rule.
Eat when you get the opportunity. You don't know when you'll get your next chance.
So it was with that in mind that I was quickly consuming some very cold Chinese food. Chinese that I had stupidly ordered three hours prior thinking that it might be a slow night.
Hey, I was new.
Two bites into my meal the phone rang. I shoved the styrofoam takeout container aside and picked up the phone sitting a few feet away, "26's," I answered, looking longingly towards my shrimp lo mein.
I really need to look into a cooler and cold meals.
The bright and intelligent although occasionally directionally challenged dispatcher answered, "Code three run for the county at the Local Marina."
The local marina. 12 miles and four stations separated us.
"Okay we're heading out." I shoved my dinner into the dorm fridge and we made our way to the truck.
A quick phone call to a Medic who worked in the station that should have been responding to this run revealed that there was a major regatta going on at the marina. Hundreds of people were out on the water drinking and partying.
I got the distinct feeling one or both of us were going to get puked on.
The ride over was uneventful... Well, as uneventful as a Code three response through 12 miles of city traffic could be. PD was driving, I was the look out. He would roll up to an intersection, and we would both scan the roads to make sure that it was clear before proceeding. I didn't know what the nature of the call was that we were speeding across town for, in Toledo they don't give us that information. It could be a popped pimple, it could be a femur fx. As a BLS truck, dispatch was typically pretty good at not sending us to ALS runs, but the truth is, you never know.
We pulled into the park that lead to the marina. Assorted revelers were stumbling along the narrow road we were driving on. The sun was setting fast, we were losing light, and there was scant street lighting provided along the road we were on. We continued creeping along the path until we saw the flashing red lights of the BRT (Big Red Truck, typically the engine TFD sends to the scene). I jumped out of the truck and met my partner at the back doors. Our patient was nowhere to be found. TFD was there, FF's sat on the bumper of the truck. The Medics were presumably with the patient. No one knew where anyone was. It was like the hand wasn't communicating with the brain. Nothing new there, sadly.
We radio'd the County in an attempt to locate someone, anyone, who could tell us why we just put our lives and the lives of the people on the roads we drove on for 20 minutes for a patient and Medics who couldn't be found.
Before the County could give us an answer, we found them. Two TPD officers, two TFD Medics, and our patient. It was a brawl, folks. Four vs. one very unhappy (and vocal about it) boater. It's never good when it's four versus one and you can't tell who's winning.
And of course he would be my patient.
PD began to sprint over to help the LEO's and the Medics. The patient was a pretty imposing guy, towering over most of the guys trying to take him down. PD was as equally imposing. I followed him for a few feet before he yelled at me, "Epi, stay back. Stay back!"
I stopped where I was. PD had been around the block more than a few times, and I trusted him. He hadn't let me down yet, and until he did... well, I wasn't going to argue with him. I watched from twenty feet away while the now five men wrestled him into submission.
The patient was screaming to anyone who would listen that he did not "want to go to jail or to the hospital". He was just fine, thank you very much. The fact that he was bleeding from the head and nose didn't mean much to him. Nor did the fact that according to bystanders, he had fallen face first on to a dock after tripping over some anchor line on his boat.
Now that they had him under control, I approached the group. He was my patient, after all. I thought that maybe a female might be a calming influence after having just fought with several men. Drunks can be weird like that.
"Hey there, I'm Epi with Itty Bitty Private Service EMS. Let's take care of your bloody nose there. Okay?"
Our Patient, who I'll call James, was looking tired from all the commotion. He nodded his head.
PD glared at me. "I'll take him, Epi." His voice was pretty firm, something I wasn't used to. I backed off for a moment.
But only for a moment. One of the LEO's was a bit of an instigator. "Dude, I remember the first time I had a beer. I think I handled it better than you...." It wasn't the worst thing I've ever heard someone say to a patient, especially someone behaving like an idiot. It frustrated me because it wasn't helping the situation.
I stepped back up to James and put it all out there for him. "James. You can chill the hell out and let me take care of you.... or you can continue to fight with these guys, get handcuffed to my stretcher, and still go to the ER. Your options are kind of limited at this point. Dude, you're bleeding. Let me take care of you."
For a moment we locked eyes and I thought he got what I was saying. He climbed into the back of the truck with a little bit of effort and sat down on the stretcher. It was about the time that Pseudo Dad ordered me to stand down yet again and tried to force him into a collar and board situation that he flipped out. Fantastic. Here we go again. More fighting. More yelling. I stood on the step at the back of the truck while five grown men fought with James. This time it was seconds before he found himself handcuffed to the stretcher.
Hey, I warned him...
He was restrained. Finally. I have very little tolerance for stupidity, and getting hammered and then fighting with MY PARTNER AND THE POLICE definitely qualifies as stupid. That being said... Antagonizing him isn't going to help. Particularly when he's my patient. Our patient.
"You realize that now you have to ride with us." I'm staring down the baby faced Officer who was picking a fight with our patient.
"I know." He kicked an imaginary rock, or piece of lint, or EMT. He wasn't happy about it, but rules are rules, he was going.
I climbed in back and started to talk to the patient. I'm a mother, a wife, and a woman. Sometimes having these things in your favor can help calm folks down. Sometimes it doesn't. In this case it worked miracles. James was reduced from the insane fighting drunk he was to a crying depressed drunk. At least he wasn’t throwing punches anymore. It's amazing what a stern word from a maternal figure can do.
Pseudo Dad seemed to have a problem with me handling patient care because he was worried about me. While I appreciated his concern I told him that we (myself and my patient) were both fine. I knew where he was coming from, he saw his daughters in me.
The transport to the hospital was truly uneventful. My patient had a broken heart, which is unfortunately not something I could fix. He was refusing a collar and board, which caused some problems with the receiving ER Doc. He would have problems bigger than his broken heart once he sobered up. TPD ended up arresting him a few hours later.
It took a few hours to get our patient off of the stretcher thanks to the handcuff situation; apparently the ER weren't allowed to use restraints.
We donated our leathers. The ER Nurses had no problem with that.
The following afternoon:
Mr. Epi, myself and the kids were at a local festival. Mr. Epi tugged on my sleeve.
"Hey... That dude is staring you down. He looks pretty ticked off. Do you know him?" He motioned towards a gentleman in a flannel shirt and jeans that I didn't recognize.
I couldn't tell who he was pointing at, but it didn't matter. The gentleman emerged from the crowd and introduced himself. He definitely had a surly look on his face. I stepped forward, instinctively putting my kids between us. Mr. Epi pushed the stroller holding SWR and took FC by the hand. He took them out of the equasion.
My heart raced.
"You're a Paramedic, right?" The guy's speech was slurred. He was holding a Busch Light can in his hand.
Did I mention the fact that I was a little nervous?
"I'm an EMT, yes." Over his shoulder I could see who I could only assume was his wife or girlfriend approaching. She looked significantly less upset.
Who the hell was this guy?
I surveyed the area for my escape route.
"You're the one who took care of my Buddy last night. I was with him at the Marina. I just wanted to shake your hand."
"Thank you," he started, putting his palm out there for me to grasp. "He was acting like a complete moron. I'm glad you were there to take care of him."
I shook his hand, instantly relieved."You're very welcome." I replied.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Today I had another long 12 hour shift. I woke up just feeling like it was going to be a fun day (note the sarcasm). My first 4 hours were uneventful. Got the rig check done as well as the daily chores around our building. Than around noonish, that damn call phone went off. We were sent to a house only a couple of blocks away for an asthma attack. En route, that asthma attack got upgraded to unresponsive. Instead of my heart dropping, like it always had done on calls, I just started to use my brain and think about everything that could go wrong on the call, and what I would need to make sure it didn't go wrong. So I grabbed our big green bag, full of airways, gauze, stethoscope, bp cuff's, cravats etc. I also grabbed the defib, you know.. just in case.
My partner had to move the ambulance closer to the house, so I ventured into the house with the police officer who must have hauled ass to the scene when he heard "unresponsive." Of course little me had to walk up to the second level of the house with our heavy green bag as well as the defib. Instantly I heard a little girl screaming her head off and other kids and 2 adults running crazy around the VERY messy house. They yelled for me to hurry up that he wasn't breathing.
If its one thing I remembered, always look cool calm and collected, even if deep down your not. The second you show fear or uncertainty in your face, your pt's family members will instantly freak. I saw our pt laying on the ground. Of course he was a very big guy so I had a feeling getting him to our ambulance would not be an easy task.
I asked, or rather demanded all the family leave the room. I felt bad, but the room was a mess. Mattresses everywhere, as well as other random crap. I checked for a carotid pulse and to be honest, my heart was pounding and I couldn't tell if it was me or the pt lol. My parter felt a pulse so we held off on the AED. I took out our BVM, hooked it up to the 02 and began to bag our pt.
To make a very long story short, it took 3 other squad members as well as two police officers to carry this man to our ambulance. ALS were in the rig waiting for us and the guy went into cardiac arrest shortly after. I ended up being the one to do chest compressions as we took our pt to the ER. ALS put on their AED, and today was the very first time I heard the AED say, "Shock advised." It was an awesome experience, although my pt probably doesn't agree.
With all the HIPPA laws now, EMS workers can't call the hospital to check up on a pt. I know that when you bring a code into the hospital, you defiantly wish you could see if the pt lived or died. Sometimes all you need to know is your pt survived. It's good to know your hard work paid off.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
In less than a week, there are over 3,000 members, and more every minute!!!!
With all our posts about how frustrated folks are about these kinds of calls, I thought some of you all would be interested. If you want a laugh, and you have a Facebook account, go check out the cause. Some of the stories are so ridiculous that you can't stop laughing!!!!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
So, as it stands now, I only work 12 days for the rest of the month of January. My part time jobs are all I have, while I sit and also collect severance from the big giant. I'm getting paid more to do less, currently. Sounds like a win-win to me!