“The Job” is seven minutes away from my front door, yet it feels worlds away. Seven minutes. Five miles.

I’m settling in to my new routine, physical therapy, a little of this and that, just living a day at a time. It’s been a long time coming, “The Job” has a way of wrapping you inside, making you somebody you really are not. If I had a chrystal ball eighteen years ago and peered inside, the person I have become would shock me. I might even smash the chrystal ball in a thousand pieces, shattering it against a wall and never looking again.

People change. It is the normal, healthy course of life, growth, understanding, spirituality. Relationships blossom, or wilt and die, all in such slow incriments it is impossible to see the changes as they happen.

This injury has given me a lot of time to think. It took a few weeks for me to come down from the adreneline rush that is Rescuing Providence. The nature of the job, the power it instills into us, the isolation, hopelessness and anger seep in, changing us, altering our outlook. Knowledge is power I once heard somebody say, but it also makes you powerless. The more I know, the more I see, the more I want to crawl into my home, lock the doors and never leave. It’s a cruel world out there, one that will destroy you if you let it.

Rescue 1 responded to a call yesterday, a teenageed pregnant mother shot to death at three in the afternoon by her “boyfriend.” I should have been working. I’m happy I was at home. At one time I wanted to be wherever the chaos was greatest, to test my skills, to do some good. Now that I’ve come down from all that, I honestly don’t know.

http://insomniacmedic.blogspot.com/2009/10/handover-carnival-9.html

The Insomniac’s Guide to Ambulances hosts this month’s edition of The Handover, and a fine job of it he did!

Mutual Aid

We are taught at an early age to call 911 in case of an emergency. People’s perception of what an emergency is may differ, but one fact does not; we expect our calls to be answered expediently. Fire departments handle most 911 calls in our area. Those departments pride themselves on a speedy response to calls from the community. When the bell tips at a fire station everything stops, personnel drop whatever they are doing and hit the apparatus floor. Meals go cold, showers stopped half taken, cleaning and maintenance jobs are not finished. Those things can wait. Nothing matters but the call. Within thirty seconds the trucks hit the street. People know that help is on the way. They assume the closest units are answering their calls, and they are correct in that assumption. What they may not be aware of is how far the closest unit actually is.

Mayor Ciccilini recently proposed legislation aimed at clearing potential hurdles in the way toward regionalization of city departments. In a carefully worded statement he cites the need to maintain services and cut costs in difficult economic conditions. “Planning for regionalization would not begin in earnest until legislation is passed,” states the mayor. North Providence’s Mayor Lombardi notes that the closest responders are not always the ones that are sent, due to jurisdictional complications. Our elected leaders have begun the process of considering consolidation of our emergency response departments. Consider how many years the consideration will take before any progress is made.

A good place to begin consolidating emergency service organizations in and around the Capitol City is to expand existing mutual aid agreements. An automatic dispatch of the closest unit makes sense. The logistics of doing so will be a difficult, but far from impossible task. All considering could be done quickly, and a plan could be put in place within months, not years.

On any given day the cities of Providence, Pawtucket, Cranston, East Providence, North Providence, Johnston and Central Falls provide mutual aid to each other, mostly in the emergency medical services departments. As the system currently works, a municipality must drain all of it’s resources before another town can be called for help. People who live on or near town lines are particularly at risk. If a life threatening emergency occurs, they could, and often do wait for an advanced life support vehicle to arrive from the other end of the town or city while a rescue from the next town sits in the bay, in service, a few blocks away waiting for a call from inside the borders of their own city.

Because of the population’s increased use of 911 for routine medical problems urban municipalities cannot keep up with the demand for emergency services. It is an ebb and flow system, one on the brink of collapse on a daily basis. Meeting the needs of every caller would bankrupt most municipal budgets.

Presently, each city or town is responsible for providing coverage inside it’s own border. Some stations were built “close to the line,” prior to the construction of major highways. It was a different world when these places were built, the planners of those long gone days had different problems to consider, different political alliances to placate and a completely different landscape.

Without scrapping the current system and implementing better policy regarding the dispatch of emergency resources cities and town departments must rely on each other. An ultimate goal of consolidating these departments is desirable, but in reality is decades away. Consolidation based on need already happens on the street level, and with few exceptions runs smoothly.

An automatic mutual aid system and agreement will greatly increase the effectiveness of our public safety departments. Mayors and town managers will be forced to work together to make a system badly in need of repair more efficient. The opportunity for grandstanding will be taken away, political gain would be nil, and simple, good governance shown to be an effective tool in bettering the lives of the citizens by providing quicker emergency response to whatever needs may arise. It is the response times that need improvement, and automatic mutual aid will help save lives.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

With little else to do due to my aching back, I’ve decided to try cross-dressing. Scratch that, I meant cross-blogging. From here on in I’m posting everything here, then pasting onto wordpress. I hope it works out, we shall see.

Man in serious condition after being impaled in windshield

PROVIDENCE, R.I. — A man who was struck by a car on Route 95 and became lodged in that car’s windshield early Sunday is in serious condition Monday morning at Rhode Island Hospital.

Jose Flores, 24, of 225 Hunt St., Central Falls, had gotten out of his car after an accident when he was hit by a passing car, according to the Rhode Island State Police. Police said he remained impaled in the windshield as the driver fled the scene. A witness followed and called the police.

A hospital spokeswoman said Monday morning that Flores was in serious condition.

The driver whom the police say struck Flores and two others who had gotten out of their vehicles after colliding on the highway is expected in District Court, Providence, Monday morning.

Christopher Swiridowsky, 30, of 28 Lynch St., Providence, is charged with three counts of leaving the scene of an accident after personal injury and with obstruction of a police officer.

Glad I missed this one. Sometimes being on the sideline gives a person some perspective. I’ve been involved in some pretty horrific things over the years and just moved on. It’s strange how being away from it all for a while makes you think differently. I actually wondered how the people on Rescue 3 last night do what they do!

I don’t know if it is a Providence thing, but over half of the MVA’s we respond to are hit and runs. It doesn’t matter the severity, some people are so self consumed they just don’t care if another human being lives or dies.

Sheesh, a guy hurts his back and everybody switches to the “New Site” and never bothers to invite the old hurt guy!

Nice.

I updated the links. Hope yer all happy.

And don’t go inviting me now, I aint budgin!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXLHWmjA5IE

I feel a sniffle coming on. Got my bell ready, phone nearby ready to call 911. Blankets piled high, remote ready. Batten down the hatches, man-flu is coming.

I know, I already posted this, but the word needs to be spread about the pain and heartbreak caused by man-flu!

Official Decree from the King

1. I hereby decree that any person or persons within a sixty (60) mile radius of Boston wearing a New York Yankees cap or any other New York Yankees paraphernalia including but not limited to bumper stickers, banners, flags or statues be subject to a Yankee Facts test to ensure their loyalty to the team they so proudly display on their person, vehicle and home.

2. Persons failing Yankee Test mentioned in paragraph 1. will be incarcerated until such time they agree to never again display New York Yankee items in the heart of Red Sox Nation.

3. Yankee test mentioned in paragraph 1. will have a sliding scale of difficulty, increasing in difficulty starting further from Boston towards points inward.

4.Upon release from prison, buses will be provided to all Yankee wearing, test failing, shit stirring New York wannabe’s from HERE to THERE where you will be deposited in the heart of Yankee country with the rest of the Yankee fans. Construction of a giant wall will begin, at Steinbrenner’s expense, to keep said “fans” penned in.

5. All surrendered Yankee paraphernalia will be collected and burned in Town Square, where music food and moonlight dancing will be provided to all pitchfork wielding townspeople.

So it is written, so it shall be done!

The rush is already on for Christmas visiting. Too many gatherings, not enough time. Can’t get everywhere, too bad Jesus didn’t have a Brother born in February or something, two Christmas’s would help!

I was reading the paper while waiting to get my hair cut yesterday, listening with one ear to the usual banter between the barbers and customers, sports talk, women, sports, women and sports and women for the most part, when I turned the page to the obituaries. My eyes were drawn to the center of the page where a picture of a beautiful familiar looking face looked back at me.

She would call now and then when she needed us. Her doctors were at Miriam, there was no way she could get herself there, not in her condition. As weak as she was she always made us smile, flirting with the younger guys, making light of her situation as we helped her into the rescue. Sometimes she could walk, when she couldn’t we were happy to carry her. There was a lightness to her being, one that transcends this existance and will carry her into the next, where I know she will find peace.

Goodbye, LaRessa Jean, it was a pleasure to know you.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

SEASTRUNK, LaRESSA JEAN	View/Sign Guest Book
SEASTRUNK, LaRESSA JEAN, 30, of Locust St., succumbed to breast cancer on Saturday at Hospice Care of RI. Born in Providence, daughter of LaJune (Belcher) Banjo-Gadson and Clinton and Maria (Green) Seastrunk. LaRessa worked for the American Cancer Society, Boston, MA. Besides her parents, she is survived by son, Jon Alston Jr., brothers, Clinton Seastrunk, Jr. and LaMarr Trisvan, and sisters, LaShon Beamon and LaChell Trisvan. Funeral 11am Saturday at Holy Cross Church of God In Christ United, 1014 Broad St., Providence. Viewing 7-9pm Friday in Bright Funeral Home, 290 Public St., Providence. In lieu of flowers send donations to Jon Alston Jr. Bank of America Act: 226002504647.
Published in The Providence Journal on 10/16/2009
Notice • Guest Book • Send sympathy flowers • Visit the gift shop • Make a memorial contribution Share photos, videos and more with Legacy Memorial Websites. Find out more.

Physical Therapy is going well, those people are truly amazing. I always heard it is a difficult program, now I know why. I described my injury to the therapist, he had me do a series of movements, each one taking pressure off of my squished discs. I found it miraculous how simple movements could be so effective. If I keep doing the exercises, things should be back in place before long.

While there I was talking to a guy about an experience he and his wife had over the weekend. She had some lower abdominal pain and went to the ER at Woman and Infants hospital. They drove there, their car was right outside. The Doctor at the ER decided the patient should be medically cleared at a regular emergency facility rater than one specializing in maternity and such and wanted them to go to Rhode Island Hospital which is on the same campus and actually connected by an underground tunnel.

“I’ll call the Providence Fire Department,” he told them. “They’ll send a rescue.”

“Our car is right outside,” the guy told him.

“It’s a liability issue,” replied the doctor.

So, there you have it. The medical community is as clueless as the rest of the population who abuse the 911 system on a daily basis. I can hardly wait for whatever healthcare reform comes out of Washington. Something tells me I’ll be driving people to Physical Therapy appointments, at taxpayer expense.

Rescuing Providence? How about rescuing the guy who says he’s Rescuing Providence?  Looks like ole Lt. Morse will be playing patient for a while. I finally took recurring back pain seriously and had an MRI, turns out things aren’t so great back there. My doctor asked if there are and supervisory positions on Rescue 1. After I stopped giggling I realized she was serious.

I have a surgical consult next week and extensive PT in the meantime.

Some advice from an old coot if you care to listen; Enjoy each day you are on the trucks, learn something about yourself and how better to treat every patient that crosses your path. Appreciate the fact that what you do, though seemingly thankless and mundane at times is without a doubt one of, if not the most important and worthy profession out there.

Your next lift could be your last. It happens fast, one day your the king of the world, limitless possibilities and things to blog about, the next your future is uncertain, and your back hurts like hell.

It takes a a lot to get a rise out of old Lt. Morse. Lacerations, fractures, amputations, evisceration’s-I’ve seen it all. Not impressed with the little scrapes and bruises some people just can’t handle.

Take a simple burn, for instance. Some moron put his pizza, box and all into the 350 degree oven to keep it warm while he shut down the house. Lights off, shades drawn, drinks made movie ready, maybe five minutes.

At Pizza Time he reached into the oven, grasped the cardboard box firmly in his hands and headed toward the table. Ignoring the pain he felt when he hoisted the box from the hot oven, “there is no possible way a cardboard box could be this hot,” he reasoned, “surely the box would ignite.” he walked the twenty feet, refusing to put the box down.

Ten seconds later, after squealing like a little bitch and flinging the cursed box and all its’ contents onto the table Mrs. lt. Morse appeared with the bottle of Aloe Vera, washed the hot oil from his red hand and put him to bed. Where he ate pizza one-handed.

A kid fell off the escalator at the Providence Place Mall Saturday night. Adam, my once and future partner was first on scene. He told me the worst part for him is rolling the patient and seeing the face for the first time. Often, it is the face of death.

A while ago I was  on scene at the same mall on the same lower level landing spot with the same situation. This time it was a girl, twenty-three years old, one in the morning, dressed for a night out with her fiance. Her earrings survived the forty foot fall off the side of the escalator, they were still attached, looking strangely out of place nestled in the blood soaked hair. Silver hoops, I recall, reflecting the fluorescent lights three floors above. She must have landed on the back of her head, it felt like applesauce when I reached my hand back there to lift it and place the cervical collar. Her eyes were closed. I lifted the lids and shined my light into them. Fixed and dilated. A ladder company was there to assist, I stepped back and watched as they placed her on the spine board and loaded her onto the stretcher.

“Is she alright?” asked a guy about her age who stood nearby.

What do you say? We are trained to tell family and friends generic information, “we’re doing all we can,” things like that.

A Spider Man doll lay on the floor, a few feet from the pool of blood that had formed around her head. She had won it at the nightclub they spent the night at, celebrating both her birthday and her graduation from the local Junior College. She had planned on giving it to her four year old in the morning, he loved Spider Man.

I held her head in my left hand, the collar giving me some support as we rode to the ER, bagging her with my right. I let her eyes remain closed as we cut off her outfit, so carefully put on only hours before, and covered her with a sheet. There were more injuries, but no sense treating them. She was gone.

I often wonder if I should have ended my involvement there, passed her off to the people at the ER and moved on. Instead, I talked with her fiance, asked about who she was, where she came from. He needed to talk, I needed to listen. Now, instead of another memory embedded deep in my subconscious, I have a vivid recollection of the event, and to this day need to catch my breath every time I walk past the spot she fell; the same spot that may or may not hold the same emotional impact for Adam.

The sequel to Rescuing Providence has been done for a long time, I’ve been trying to find somebody to publish it. Paladin Press decided to pass on it, they took a risk with the first one, hoping their core readership would find the subject matter interesting enough to fork over $22.00 to read a memior/autobiography from a firefighter EMT in Providence, RI. Sadly, their readers weren’t interested, less than one hundred people ordered the book from Paladin’s website and cataloug. On the bright side, thousands of people did order the book through www.Amazon.com, www.barnesandnobel.com and many other on-line retailers, as well as in many bookstores regionally. Borders especially was very supportive, due in no small effort from my friend Erin whose support is greatly appreciated. Paladin passed on the sequel, not because they didn’t like the book ;rather the bottom line made it unprofitable.

So, that is where I am. My work isn’t profitable. And that is okay. For a while there I had dreams of writing books and things and hopefully squeaking out a living doing so. Even under the best circumstances that would have been a long shot. The current economic situation has made it harder still. I’ve talked with a few authors of books revolving around EMS and they too have found this to be a difficult road to travel. Unbelievably, there just isn’t enough interest in our subject matter for a publisher to take a chance on publishing our books, and devote the resources needed to promote them. They need guaranteed hits, Sarah Palin, Hillary Clinton, household names like those are sure hits. Established writers like Stephen King, Dan Brown and about two dozen others account for 90% of sales. I can’t say I blame the publishers, but it is frustrating.

Speaking of frustrating, an EMT I see from time to time at area hopsitals, a person who I’ve always respected for her professional attitude, her patient care and obvious pride in the proffession needed a little boost the other day but I was too stupid to offer any encouragement. 

The triage area at Rhode Island Hospital is a busy place, ambulance crews for different agencies, fire departments and hospitals converge there, share a little conversation and a laugh now and then, but mostly stick to themselves, transfer the patient and move on. I spend a lot of time at the hospital, Rescue 1 is housed a mile and a half away, most of my patients live around the corner. I see the different crews, the different attitudes, the different people. The person I’m writing about probably has no idea I even notice. But I do, I just can’t help notice people who stand out.

 She wears the uniform of her private service with pride, gives a great report to the ER staff, is always courteous to her patients and good to her partners.

The other day she looked run down, wrinkled and exhausted. It was shocking to see. I asked if she was okay, she responded with some off the cuff remark about the futility of it all. All I did was agree and move on. If I could do it over, I would tell her that if nothing else I have noticed how well she conducts herself while working for one of the private companies that I know do not pay as well as they should. I would tell her that I’ve often marvelled at how well she does her job and how fortunate her employer and patients are to have her. And I’d tell her that more than once I’ve tucked in my shirt and stood a little straighter, then written my reports a bit better, and realized how fortunate I am to be doing 911 calls rather than transports, because of her.

But I didn’t. I walked away, dismayed that the EMS “career” has taken another good one.

So…what the heck am I doing complaining that my book isn’t getting published as quickly as I want, or the publishing world isn’t bowing at my feet? I’ve got a great hobby, writing, because I’ve come to realize that that is what this is, I’ve got a great job, and a little respect from the people in my profession who have read the first book, have learned a little about who I am and how I think.

I think I’m going to take a risk the next time I see her, and tell her she is inspirational. Coming from an old, wrinkled worn out Providence Firefighter might not be much help, but it probably won’t hurt. I need good people around me. They are contagious.

Oh, the book. I have no idea what my next step is. I just got a rejection from Potomac Books. They expressed interest in March. I made it through the first steps and was waiting for final acceptance. Didn’t happen.

But hey, I’ve already got the best job in the world!