A Work in Progress

It's a sad thing when I lose respect for someone. It has happened more times that I would like. In the real world I've learned that you don't need a swastika tattoo to lose my respect. On a related note, I hate bigots and their existence. I'm new at work so I'm not ready to rock the boat, so to speak. I usually stay pretty quiet until I get to know people or a subject comes up that interests me. Even when people point out my quietness, they are usually the most talkative person in the room, and I say, yep, I just don't have anything to say. But I digress. A, um, (co-worker, person, acquaintance) of mine, whom I liked, said the 'N' word in front of me, in a sort of conversational way. I'm not sure which disturbed me more, the fact that she said it, or the fact that she said it so easily, as if she either gave no consideration to me, or believed that I wouldn't mind. I will reiterate here that I'm not one to rock the boat, and note that I hav...

The call went out for a hemorrhage. We headed out and the call information came over the radio: "subject shot in the head, conscious, police report the scene is safe" We both did an absolute double take and I searched through the map with a renewed sense of urgency. I located the call, as my partner fired up the roof and hit the gas pedal with purpose. En route, we called for the status of the nearest helicopter, which was 20 minutes away. Send it. It took us 10 minutes to get on scene, which seemed like an eternity. We arrived to have a cop come up and let us know that indeed someone had shot themselves in the head, and directed us into the middle of a field. This call was getting stranger by the second. We kicked on the four-wheel drive and headed into the muddy unknown. The police had been called and I'm not sure of the exact order of things, but basically this person was missing and there was a suicide note involved and the police had come to check it out. The cop on ...

After my post complaining about not doing much at work, we did have one call after that for a guy with the flu. Since then, it has been a litany of people fainting, having chest pain, or being short of breath. Neb treatments, nirtros, and fluids for all! We had one day of wintry weather that yielded no car accidents. What a funny thing to be disappointed about. I had an 18 month old who had a febrile seizure and whose temperature was 105F. It was nice to have a kid who was crying. I was only weirded out a little when the dad didn't know his kids birthdate. One lady who was having chest pains said that she had the pain off an on for two months. Two months! It didn't occur to her to get it checked out, and the only reason we got called this time was because she had pain while waiting at a doctors office. Another guy 'couldn't stop throwing up' who thankfully managed to resist while in my presence; and the Zofran might have helped. We did get to go to the mall for a gu...

Oh, it's that time of year again when the blog and I celebrate our anniversary. Three years on now and still going. (sadly, longer than any of my significant relationships.) In this, the 268th post, I must admit that I never believed it would last this long, or that I would even make it through the first post. (mostly because I was historically lazy about such things, thought blogs were silly, and never fancied myself a writer.) But, as I have recently learned, sometimes it is a good thing to be wrong. Having abandoned my hand written journal about two years ago, (now the only hand written stuff is on bits of paper) I'm happy that I have kept up the old blog. As one commenter reminded me, it is nice to have a snapshot of my life in print. It has been an interesting year since my last blogiversary to say the least. And, well...if you're reading this you were probably reading then too, so I won't explain further. With a renewed sense of purpose, a new job, and a wicked...

Here are some pictures of our PIMP trucks. I've pointed out the highlights, thus proving that I am a squirrel, am way too excited about the new job, and have too much time on my hands.

Last week started with one of those calls where you really hope dispatch was wrong, but they aren’t. I panicked a little when I heard “Infant cardiac arrest.” We all piled in the truck (‘we’ being my two bosses and another paramedic who has been on the job longer than I have been alive) and I was honestly feeling a little nauseous riding to the call. I grabbed our peds bag and stepped into the ambulance. I panicked a little when I looked on the cot and saw that tiny baby and two EMTs doing their best with CPR. In that instant I already knew it was too late. I took a millisecond to take stock of the situation and organize my thoughts. From there, it became business. I snapped into work mode: “Could you make your compressions harder and faster?” “Hand me the airway bag.” “Put that blanket under his body.” “I need a 2.5 tube.” “Could I have some suction.” I was on airway and I panicked a little when I put my blade in and saw nothing. No landmarks at all, just tons of secretions...

It has been a busy week. I am celebrating my fourth shift at new work and am enjoying it quite a bit. I managed to trick the white cloud for a few days, but today, it found me. With only three hours left in this shift, I have gone 10 hours today without a call. Yes, I am hoping that writing this will jinx us. Up until last night I have had a large number of calls, including some career firsts. Well, one first that will be getting its own post once I figure out what to say about it. I decided to stay for a late call yesterday that was canceled, and then two others right after that, also cancellations. That's one of the funny things about chase cars, you don't always actually get to the call. And sometimes, even when you do get to the call, you don't do anything but watch the EMT take a blood pressure and then cancel you. If you get too involved with an obvious BLS call (say, if you were first on scene) you have to release it to BLS when the ambulance gets there so ...

has people who love him. has a home. has lost hope. is an alcoholic. stopped eating. falls down a lot. has uncontrolled diabetes. won’t take his medicine. doesn’t want anything done. A man with a swastika tattoo is unconscious in bed. is maintaining his airway. has been like this for a while. is covered in bruises from falling. is hyperglycemic. is unceremoniously carried out of his house on a sheet. got stuck four times because he is dehydrated. was given futile medicines. feels cold. A man with a swastika tattoo is dead. The world is not a better place, it is the same.