Blog Award

Bernice, from I Just call it as I See It has given me quite the nod with this award. If you haven’t been over to Bernice’s blog, make sure you stop by.

The rules are as follows:
1.You have to pick five blogs that you consider deserve this award in terms of creativity, design, interesting material, and general contributions to the blogger community, no matter what language.

2. Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.

3. Each winner has to show the award and give the name and link to the blog that has given him or her the award itself.

4. Each winner and each giver of the prize has to show the link of “Arte y pico” blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award.

5. To show these rules.

Now, the dilemma of selecting only five blogs…

1. Bernice. http://callitasiseefit.blogspot.com/ She just calls it as she sees it. Her writing and depth of feeling blows me away. I love her honesty, it’s what keeps me coming back for more.

2. Chrysalis Angel. http://chrysalisangel1.blogspot.com/ I think she was the first person to comment on my blog when it was brand new. She’s a cancer survivor, great storyteller, and compassionate person. And, she keeps an eye on me when I disappear.

3. Brick City Blues. http://brickcityblues.blogspot.com/ Anybody who works in Newark, NJ and lives to tell about it deserves an award. That, and he is one of the most dedicated paramedics I know. The pride of his profession drips from every post, an amazing feat considering he works in the country’s busiest district.

4. Jen at Cabin Fever. http://vtcabinfever.blogspot.com/ She is living life her way. Every time I read one of her posts I want to sell everything and move to the mountains.

5. Susie Hemmingway. http://susiehemingway.blogspot.com/ Her husband, Hamada is battling cancer. Her site is inspirational, I look forward to reading her poems whenever one is posted.

Everybody on my blogroll is worthy of this award, and a bunch of others that I visit.

I downloaded a widgit a while ago (Feed Jit) that lets you know how people found your blog. I am happy and proud to announce that Rescuing Providence has been found quite often by people googling “What’s a taint.”

I doesn’t matter how they get here, as long as they get here.

I owe a big thanks to Nancy Perry and Heather Caspi from EMS Magazine, Firehouse and EMSResponder. Not only did they review my book back in February but the August, 2008issue features this post from my blog as the first blog featured in their new section featuring the best EMS Blogs on the internet.

As if my head wasn’t big enough…

EMS News Network

EMS BLOGSPOT: DOA by Lt. Michael Morse
This issue sees the debut of a new section in EMS News Network that highlights some of the best EMS blogs
available on the Internet. Submit blogs for consideration to nancy.perry@cygnusb2b.com.

Michael Morse is a firefighter in Providence, RI. After 10 years “on the trucks,” he decided to devote the next 10 years to the EMS
side of “the job.” He’s now seven years in. His current assignment is lieutenant, Rescue 1 in South Providence, one of the busiest
fi re department vehicles in New England, handling over 5,000 calls a year. He is the author of the book Rescuing Providence,
as well as the blog of the same name. Both tell the story of his agency’s day-to-day operations. For more, visit www.rescuingprovidence.
blogspot.com/.

He died last night, fell off the side of his bed, tipped a lamp over and died on the
fl oor. He was an old man, from the looks of things lived a simple life. His possessions
were few, modest furniture, not a lot of clothes, just the necessities. We stood there
after pronouncing him dead and waited for the police sergeant, five of us, strangers to
the dead man, talking about our weekend, our kids, our future.
His grandson arrived, walked past us and kneeled by his grandfather’s side, sobbing.
Another grandson ran into the room and joined them next to the bed. The phone rang,
another family member entered the room. The police arrived, we backed out. As we
were leaving I saw another young man running toward the house, frantic.
He may not have had many worldly possessions, but from the look of the people he left behind, he knew
how to live.

I was cleaning out some files and came across this. I wrote it five or six years ago. I find it amazing how little has changed. I guess it’s just a matter of time before somebody “important” dies while waiting for a rescue.

She stood in her doorway, hands streaked with blood that poured down from the slashes on her wrists. Before I said a word, she lunged forward, screaming that I was responsible for her brother’s death, pointing at my chest with her bloodied finger. The girl’s mother stood behind her, tears pouring down her face, mixing with fresh blood from a laceration on her cheek. I stood outside the doorway as a hostile crowd gathered behind me, shouting. I do not understand their language. A Spanish speaking police officer calmed the crowd while another officer came from inside the house holding a bloody knife. I tried to calm the wounded girl and get her into the rescue to treat her. She was hysterical, violent and intoxicated. The Police had to subdue and transport the girl to the hospital after I stopped her wrists from bleeding. Her mother came in the rescue with me.
En-route to the emergency room, she told me the rest of the story. Her son was living with an incurable brain condition. Three days ago he had suffered an attack of some sort, and collapsed where he stood. The family called 911, minutes later an Engine Company from the Providence Fire Department showed up. The firefighters did what they could, but do not have advanced life-support or transport capabilities. For what seemed an eternity the family waited as the firefighters worked. A rescue from another city showed up twenty minutes later. The family was despondent, the patient deceased.
What happened in the doorway of the family’s house was a manifestation of the traumatic experience of three days before. The girl with the bloody hands, overcome by grief, tried to end her life by slitting her wrists. Her mother attempted to stop her. A struggle ensued, the mother was injured, and 911 was called. Luckily, there was a rescue ready to respond.
The City of Providence has five rescue squads on duty at all times. The city has a population of approximately 180,000. During the week that number swells as people come to work. On nights and weekends, the city is full of activity. People come to the city from all over the region because it is a fun, interesting destination where they feel safe. They are not. There are barely enough rescues to meet the demand of the city’s residents. Tourists and the workforce stretch the rescue ranks further. Simply stated, Providence does not provide adequate emergency medical services to the residents and visitors to the city.
It is unfortunate that many Providence residents are poor. A lot of these people have no health care insurance. Their primary health care providers are the area hospital emergency rooms. When they are sick, they call 911 and are taken by rescue to the emergency room. A large percentage of the rescue runs are for routine medical care that should be provided by a person’s doctor. Some people call for a rescue because they have no money for a cab or bus. Others are under the misguided notion that they will “get in faster” if a rescue takes them. The city’s rescues spend a lot of time transporting non-emergency patients.
The homeless present another problem. Day after day the rescues are called for intoxicated persons. Not all homeless people are alcoholics, but enough are to overburden the system. Some call for assistance every day, some twice a day. Frustration mounts when we are transporting one of these patients and hear over the radio a call come in for something serious. We swallow our anger as we hear the dispatcher send an out-of-town rescue to the aid of a child struck by an auto or an elderly person complaining of chest pain. Every day the city’s resources are taxed, all the rescues busy, and mutual aid called. When there is no Providence rescue available, surrounding communities fill the void. Cranston, East Providence, Johnston and Pawtucket are called daily. Warwick, Central Falls, Cumberland and others are frequent visitors to the city. These municipalities provide adequate rescue squads for their communities only to have their protection compromised.
In our business, minutes count. It is impossible to separate the real emergencies from routine calls and lawsuits are prevalent. The trucks are sent out to whoever calls for whatever reason. Rescues respond to calls from people who have seen ghosts, want pregnancy tests, ran out of their medication, can’t open their medication, had a nightmare, a toothache, felt chilly, the list goes on and on. While responding to these “emergencies,” mutual aid companies are sent for life threatening problems, such as the suicidal girl’s brother. The towns that send Providence their rescues are not getting the protection their taxpayers are paying for.
Throughout it all, the rescue workers maintain the highest level of care and professionalism. When responding to calls that some might call frivolous, we keep in mind that to the person making the call a real emergency exists. Some people are malicious abusers of the system, but most are not. People have been taught that if an emergency occurs, call 911 and help will appear. We are prepared to answer the call, yet frustrated and overwhelmed by the sheer volume of calls.
I started to explain this to the wounded mother in my care, then realized how shallow my words sounded to a person who had lost a loved one, with another in so much pain. I told her I was sorry for her loss then rode to the hospital in silence.

It happens again and again. Just when I think I’ve had enough, just when one more call might put me over the edge, something happens. It could be an old lady living alone, lonely, sick and afraid who doesn’t want to bother her family again. It might be a kid who fell off his bike and hurts, but doesn’t want to let his friends know how much. Sometimes it’s a homeless drunk, destitute, filthy and nearly hopeless. I never know which one will enter the rescue and make the connection that makes all the trouble worth it.

Often, it’s not a connection that keeps me coming back, rather a dramatic save. When a crisis occurs and we respond, well, there simply is nothing better than experiencing what goes on at the scene or in the rescue. The people I work with are the best there is, from the firefighters on scene first, my partner, and the staff at the ER. It’s like we enter a different dimension; the people we clown around with, flirt with, torture and goof on suddenly become a team capable of bringing people back from the dead, or preventing further harm and suffering. It never fails to amaze me when everything clicks.

Some people think I’m a great EMT and I let them go right ahead and think it. Truth is, I’m average at best. I’m constantly checking the protocols because I forget things as soon as I read them. If a patient doesn’t have “pipes,” there’s a good chance I’ll miss the IV. I wouldn’t know a Dopamine drip from a post nasal drip and have never gotten a rhythm on an asystolic patient. I own most of my success to my co-workers.

This blog has helped me considerably. That people read my words and find a reason to come back, again and again is truly unbelievable to me. The rescue division in Providence is a thankless position, but we do it voluntarily. We make it hard by working overtime, without that it would be a lot easier to handle. The long hours are what deadens our spirit. Thirty-four hours on, twenty-four off, then thirty-eight on with three days to rest eventually takes a toll. The call volume keeps increasing, but there is no money for more resources and we just keep running. I could give it up at any time and go back to an Engine or a Ladder Company, and believe me; I’ve been tempted lately.

Anyway, thanks for all the support, here and in person. I wouldn’t want to do it without you.

Ted, a medic from Massachusetts has started a blog and invites all Central Mass EMT’s to participate. It sounds like a winner. Best wishes to Ted and all the Central Mass Medics, I’m looking forward to reading about your experiences.

Click on the title to visit Central Mass Medics.

Sometimes when things aren’t going so great in your personal life your job performance tanks. I have some things to deal with on the home front, unpleasant to say the least but ultimately resolvable. The simplest tasks at work now seem insurmountable. Patients are a distraction, reports poorly done and the only thing I look forward to is quitting time. This is something new to me, and I’m not liking it.

The people keep calling, I keep bringing them to the hospital and life goes on, but something is missing. I’ve got a few days off, things should be back to “normal” when I return.

Thanks for standing by.

The housework begins at 0830 hrs. Everybody participates except for some officers, and that’s all right, they have done their share of chores. It’s one of the things I love about the fire service; scrubbing toilets and mopping floors keeps us grounded.

Every fire house in the city has the same routine. We don’t make it difficult, half an hour usually does the trick. It’s not hard, and not a big deal, but it is one of the little things that makes this job so great. If there are other occupations where the menial work is shared up the foodchain, I have never heard of them.

Friday Night at Rescue 6, stay tuned…

I was just scanning my bloglist, Paramedic Supermonkey has quite a story to tell. Click on the title of this post to go there.

Condolences to the Leduc family. Rest in peace, brother.

To the end, firefighter spent his life trying to help others

08:30 AM EDT on Tuesday, August 5, 2008

By Amanda Milkovits
Journal Staff Writer

Members of the Tiverton Fire Department come to shore after searching Stafford Pond yesterday for a missing boater. At right is Tiverton Police Chief Robert Lloyd. The Providence Journal / Bob Breidenbach
TIVERTON –– Sunday was Gerald Leduc’s day off from the Tiverton Fire Department, so he was zipping around Stafford Pond on his jet ski when he detoured over to his best friend’s dock, barely a half-mile from his own.

Leduc and Philip Godek had known each other going way back to when Leduc was a young volunteer firefighter. He’d been eager to become a certified scuba diver in case the department formed a dive team and needed to search for people in the water. Godek, the owner of Pisces Diving Services in the north end of town, was Leduc’s instructor, and they became best friends.

The old friends chatted for a while, and then Leduc, 52, jetted home. And then his pager went off. Someone was in trouble in the pond. They were calling in dive teams from Little Compton and Fall River.

Extra
Searchers mourn firefighter, find no trace of missing man

Video: Friend remembers Gerald R. Leduc

Leduc’s death and comments from colleagues are posted at Firefighter Hourly, which describes itself as “views and opinions on the fire service in America”

Read Leduc’s obituary / Sign the guest book
Tiverton had never formed a dive team, but Leduc was still certified. He called his fire chief and volunteered to join the search. He grabbed his diving gear and was gone.

A little while later, a neighbor noticed sirens and lights down at the end of the pond and called Godek. “We’ll call Gerry and find out what’s going on,” Godek told his wife.

Someone else answered Leduc’s cell phone. He’d had a heart attack as he prepared to dive in search of a missing Rehoboth fisherman.

Godek was one of the first at the St. Anne’s Hospital emergency room in Fall River, where Leduc had been taken Sunday night. “I spent 45 minutes holding his hand last night,” Godek said yesterday. “It doesn’t seem real. It never does.”

The flag outside Leduc’s home at the edge of Stafford Pond was at half-staff yesterday, while across the pond, divers from four different agencies continued to search for the body of 38-year-old Joseph Traficante. Divers carefully dodged stumps and rocks, but the murky water didn’t yield any sign of the missing man.

The flag at Fire Station 4, where Leduc had worked, was lowered. Black bunting was draped over the doorways of Fire Station 3, a short distance from the pond. The Fire Department that he’d served for 36 years, as a volunteer and paid firefighter, was planning his funeral yesterday afternoon.

Fire Lt. Mark Reimels said he believed that Leduc was the first Tiverton firefighter to die in the line of duty. Leduc died of an apparent cardiac arrest soon after he’d gotten into the water, he said.

Leduc had joined the department at age 16 and then was hired in 1984. Godek was there at Town Hall when Leduc was sworn in. Back then, his friend had the nickname “Lucky Leduc,” Godek said, though the reasons for it have vanished in time.

Leduc was one of the indispensable people in this small town, where he was 1 of just 32 paid firefighters. He wore his Fire Department pager all the time, just in case he was needed, Godek said. The circumstances of his death –– volunteering to save someone –– were characteristic of him. “He was just one of those guys who just wanted to help people,” Godek said.

Leduc was close to his sons, Michael, 22, who is studying to be a paramedic, and Jonathan, 20, who loves computers. “He was really the kind of father who would do anything for his kids,” Godek said.

Leduc was divorced and was dating Denise deMedeiros, the School Committee chairwoman, whom he’d met when she was a nurse at the emergency room at St. Anne’s Hospital. DeMedeiros declined to speak at Leduc’s home yesterday.

He had many friends, Godek said, and he was known for his sense of humor, and for his love for hot tubs, especially his own eight-person tub installed on a pavilion at his house.

Some stories combine both humor and hot tubs. Leduc loved staying at Loon Mountain –– he didn’t ski, but he loved the hot tub there. He was in the hot tub when a stranger asked him about the ski trails, Godek remembered. Leduc made up some good stories about conditions on the trails, until deMedeiros called his bluff, and the stranger scurried away in confusion. Leduc thought it was hilarious. “He said, ‘I really had that guy going!’?” Godek remembered.

Godek spent yesterday pacing inside his quiet shop, alone with the dive equipment and fire extinguishers from his other business, Tiverton Fire and Safety, which he’d bought from Leduc about 25 years ago.

They’d worked together for years on jobs filling and fixing fire extinguishers for clients in Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and southern New Hampshire, always staying at hotels with hot tubs. Leduc was using his scuba-diving skills to work on pool drains for a friend’s pool company. Godek teased him about scuba diving in swimming pools.

On Friday, Leduc had spent the day at Godek’s shop working on 40 fire extinguishers. He told Godek he’d be back on Monday to finish the remaining 25.

All day, Godek waited, unable to work, believing somehow that his best friend would walk in the door.

The wake for firefighter Gerald Leduc will be held Thursday from 4 to 9 p.m. at Auclair’s Funeral Home, 690 South Main St., Fall River. A procession will leave the funeral home at 8 a.m. Friday to St. Theresa’s Church, 265 Stafford Rd., Tiverton, for the funeral Mass at 10 a.m. The funeral procession and Mass were originally scheduled at 10 a.m., and noon, but were changed to the earlier times. Burial is at Notre Dame Cemetery, 1540 Stafford Rd., Fall River. A memorial fund has been set up in Leduc’s name at all Bank of America branches.

With reports from staff writers Chloe Thompson and Gina Macris.

amilkovi@projo.com

If hearing grown men cry makes you sick read no further.

Thirty-eight hours, thirty-four runs. A guy got stabbed in the face. A guy shot himself in the chest. Diabetics, seizures, falls, car accidents, overdoses…all part of the deal, I understand.

Toothaches, blisters, and the one that broke the proverbial camel’s back at 0545 this morning; the twenty-nine year old female who called 911 because she “was tired.”
Imagine if you will, me, at 0545 hrs., climbing to the third floor of a tenement house to find a twenty-nine-year old female, in bed, snuggled under her covers, who simply states, “I’m tired, haven’t slept for twenty-two days and can’t walk down the stairs. I need to go to the hospital.”

I had Steve bring the stair chair to the third floor. I sat in it and made her carry me down.

I honestly don’t know how they do it. It starts around midnight and doesn’t let up until six or so, the living dead roll into the ER, most brought in by rescues, some just waltzing in. The police drag a few over and a couple just appear out of thin air. There is a lot of blood, buckets of vomit, screaming, hysterical laughter, threats of lawsuits, parents calling looking for their kids and the occasional “real”patient stuck in the middle of all the madness.

I visit four or five times after midnight, adding my share of kooks to the mix. One guy was stabbed in the face, two of my patients were restrained and needed constant observation, one was so intoxicated he couldn’t move and another beaten badly, allegedly forced to perform weird sex acts but couldn’t remember with who but did insist on repeatedly showing me her breasts to “see if there were any bruises.”

Through it all the nurses, security, doctors, ER techs and housekeepers keep their cool, treat the patients with dignity and somehow muddle through, only to do it all again next Saturday night.

Jen from Cabin Fever got a new camera! I couldn’t resist.