Every now and then I read a post from one of the many excellent blogs I follow that literally knocks my socks off.
http://sirenvoices.blogspot.com/2010/01/resurrectionist.html
Has anyone seen my socks?
Archives for
See all posts in the network tagged with
Tom Cobb wrote Crazy Heart years ago. Now it’s a movie getting some great reviews. Jeff Bridges recently won a Golden Globe for his portrayal of the main character and there is a good chance he’ll win an Oscar.
I met Tom through my Uncle Brian. The two have been friends and colleagues for years. Tom’s book, Shavetail and Rescuing Providence were published around the same time. One day, Tom, Uncle Brian and myself were having a coffee when Tom mentioned that selling books is a lot like pushing water uphill. I still use that expression when somebody asks me how sales of Rescuing Providence are going. Judging from the short time we spent together, my guess is Tom isn’t overly impressed with all the hoopla.
As for me, this is the best thing to happen to somebody I know in a very long time! And I’m quite impressed.
I can’t wait to see the movie.
The Handover comes to Gomerville!
http://gomerville.com/2010/01/11/the-handover/
The official edition won’t be published until the end of the month, for now, here is my submission.
An EMS Portrait
Two kids, no more than eighteen sat on a sidewalk in Providence’s freezing November. Litter blew down the street, propelled by a chilling breeze that took the last memories of Indian summer away. Winter pushed through, nothing stopping her chilling embrace now.
The kids, a boy and his pregnant girlfriend had been walking when she felt severe abdominal pain. A pay phone was close, lucky for them; he used it to call 911. Engine 2 responded, along with Rescue 1 from the other side of the city. I was new to the job then, every call brought with it anticipation and excitement. I started the engine and waited for the crew to climb on board, Wayne and Arthur in back, Captain Costa in the officer’s seat. We turned left, toward the call. Less than two minutes later we found them, huddled together on the curb.
We talked to them, found out what was wrong, put them in the back of the engine where the doghouse radiated some heat through the diamond plate and let them rest. They looked exhausted, lonely and afraid. While doing vital signs I got to know them a little, as much as a five minute meeting affords. They were good kids, from an environment far different from the suburbs where I grew up. Her signs were good, she felt the eight month old fetus move and told me she wasn’t due for another month. They relaxed, we waited for the rescue. I was content that the little I did helped the situation, as the stress she felt dissipated, so did her pain. EMS at base level. I was satisfied.
Rescue 1 approached. An officer I’d never seen and his driver slowly pulled next to Engine 2, and even more slowly got out and slammed their doors.
“Where the fuck is she?” I heard one of them say. I opened the door to the engine, the other one stood there, arms crossed, shaking his head.
“Another fucking taxpayer. Let’s go.” He walked back to the rescue. The kids looked at each other, worry and anger filled their faces. I started to make excuses for the rescue guy’s behavior, then stopped.
“Assholes come from all walks of life,” I said to the two as they left my care and entered the fetid environment of Rescue 1. “Good luck.” I shook the boy’s hand and gave the girl a little squeeze on her shoulder.
“New guy,” said the “officer” of the rescue. They drove off, eager to dump their cargo and get back to whatever it was that was so important.
Back at the barn the guys vented a little about the morons on rescue, and then moved on. I never forgot. Years later, with that and hundreds of similar incidents in mind I took a Rescue Lieutenants test, finished second and started the second part of my career. I haven’t looked back. I still feel the anticipation and excitement when called, and still treat people with respect and dignity.
“Rescue 3 and Engine 11, Respond to 673 Carter Street for a woman not breathing.”
“Looks like the doctor’s going to have to wait,” I said to Ryan as I keyed the mike.
Rescue 1, clear of the detail, responding to Carter.”
“Roger Rescue 1, at 0945.”
First day back after three days off, third call in a little over two hours. That’s just the way it goes. An emergency medicine resident from Rhode Island Hospital was scheduled to ride along with Rescue 1 for the shift, we had been trying to connect all morning.
“Engine 11 to Fire Alarm, code 99.”
“Received, Engine 11, Rescue 1?”
“Message received.”
It was Ryan’s second week on the rescue after six months in the acadamy and another six at Atwells Ave, training with Engine 14 and Ladder 6. This would be his first code.
“Rescue 1, on scene.”
“Engine 11 to fire alarm, send a ladder company for assistance.”
Ryan and I exchanged glances. A ladder company at a code 99 meant only one thing.
A large woman was preparing to get on a handicap equipped bus when she went into cardiac arrest. She only made it to her doorway. She fell from her wheelchair blocking entrance to her home. Her daughter and the driver of the bus stood by, waiting for help. She had been down for about five minutes before we arrived. I checked for a pulse, knowing there would be none. She wasn’t breathing. Her daughter screamed, the bus driver waited.
“Start CPR.” I said, as I knelt at the doorway. One of the guys from Engine 11 jumped over my back, and over the four-hundred pound patient and into the hallway. He started compressions after Ryan had assembled the bag-valve device and began bagging. I tried to reposition the patient as her daughter tired of screaming and began to sob. Somebody handed me the monitor, I applied the pads in position.
“Stop CPR.”
The sporadic fluctuations in the ekg stopped, and a flat line appeared. In a dull monotone the machine told us what we already knew.
“No shock advised, continue CPR.”
The officer of Engine 11 brought a backboard from the rescue and we attempted to maneuver it under the patient. A lift here, a tug there, some pulling and pushing and we finally were successful. We strapped her down. Ladder 5 arrived. The Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines could have shown up but the same situation remained, a big lady was stuck in a doorway. We had her on a board, of which there are only two ends, and no room in between. I was at the head.
“On three. One, Two, Three.”
We got her up. I backed out of the doorway, three people on either side helped carry her to the Rescue while two others continued CPR. Air flow was terrible, but the best we could do. Three IV attempts in the doorway failed. The bigger the patient the more difficult to treat, I’ve learned.
I wish I could say the adrenaline masked the pain in my back, but after nearly twenty years, adrenaline is in short supply. Every bump in the road toward Rhode Island Hospital felt like the Grand Canyon.
I gave Ryan my seat, feeling bad that his first intubation attempt was doomed to failure, but wanting to give him the experience in a difficult situation. If he was nervous, it didn’t show, he tried, and tried some more but ultimately failed. Somebody got an IV, Renato I think, as we pulled into the hospital lot. I hobbled out of the truck, the crew did their thing, I gave the report to the medical team that had assembled and stood back and watched. Eventually I had to sit.
I left the trauma room ten minutes later. The patient was breathing on her own, heart beating steadily.
“Are you alright?” asked Kim, the RN in charge of triage.
“I think not,” I said and began the long road to recovery.
The MRI showed five crushed discs in my lumbar spine. They are gone, and are not coming back. The back specialist that treated me, on orthopedic surgeon, reportedly the best there is advised my doctor to not release me to full duty. Ever. My doctor agreed. They neglected to consult the real expert before ending my career.
Me.
A month after the “final” diagnosis I returned to the specialist, Arthur, my Physical Therapist’s report in hand. “Full flexibility without pain, improved strength, overall prognosis good…”
I feel great, all things considered. I’m forty-seven, been lifting heavy things and people for a long time.
“I’m the one who’s going to die when it’s time for me to die . So let me live my life, the way I want to.” Jimi Hendrix, If Six was Nine
Never quit, because you never know when the heart will stop beating. Or begin again.
I’ll be back to full duty in two weeks.
“This Winter harsh and cruel will not change much for us
it is a time to be together, a time for closeness and of warmth,
a time to renew strength to start with vigour our battle.”
Susie Hemingway
http://susiehemingway.blogspot.com/2010/01/silence-falls-by-susie-hemingway.html
Battles are fought every day, courageous, relentless and deadly. Inside the homes we pass, the minds of the people we greet and in the hospitals and nursing homes where people spend their last days, struggles larger than many of us can imagine take place. Suffering is handled with dignity and grace. Despair hidden behind brave faces whose true pain is kept hidden, except for those closest, and sometimes, even them.
There is a true hero who walks along side of me. Helped by a cane. Stumbling, frustrated and in pain. Our battle marches on, relentless.
I’ll heal. I’ll walk, maybe swagger. I’ll lift and carry, perhaps without the gusto I once had, but I’ll pull my weight. My bones will creak and muscles will ache, but I’ll go on. So will Cheryl. One step at a time.
Another battle begins February 4th. I’ll be Lieutenant Morse again. But I’ll always be Mrs. Morse’s husband.
http://firecritic.com/contests/blog-of-the-year-09/
Rescuing Providence Blog of the Year? As Kevin Millar said, (or Manny or Schilling or Papi, I can’t remember) in 2004, “Why not us?”
Thanks Firecritic and whoever nominated Rescuing Providence.
Vote early and vote often!
I only had a minute to do my last post concerning Mayor Charles Lombardi of North Providence’s idea to staff town rescues with “fifteen dollar an hour no benefit” employees for ambulance rides that the town could profit from. In case anybody is wondering what is so wrong with that, please follow this link:
http://happymedic.com/2009/08/08/ems-2-0-starts-now/
I’m nearing the end, possible have even reached it, of my career in fire/EMS. The system is a catastrophe, plain and simple. I often wonder if the rest of society is held together by broken strings and mirrors, or if we as emergency providers are the only ones. I’ve been on the outside looking in for a little while, and from an outsiders viewpoint things seem to be working okay. If people only knew how close to collapse this system actually is they would be appalled.
Society finds it perfectly acceptable for some folks to earn great salaries selling trinkets and widgets while others, EMS providers among them, struggle to earn a living. Capitalism works, the system of entropeneurship and private growth providing us who happen to be fortunate to be alive during this moment in history comfort and luxury only imagined in prior generations.
The market is flooded with EMT’s. A lot, if not most of those EMT’s take the courses and learn the craft hoping to do some good and earn a decent living. Private companies that provide ambulance services pay thier employees anywhere from ten to twenty dollars an hour, with few exceptions. Comparatively speaking, that doesn’t amount to much, career wise. Not bad for a part time gig, but not enough to provide for a family, or even have a decent lifestyle comparative to other, similarly trained professionals.
Municipalities offer the best chance for an EMT to earn average wages and benefits. The best of those jobs are in fire department based EMS. Problem is, a lot of EMT’s want nothing to do with firefighting. As a third public safety department joining the fire department and police department, EMS could solve the problem but not many want to see it happen, cost being one hurdle to overcome. To sum things up, a lot of EMT’s are EMT’s hoping to get hired by a fire department. It’s a lot of work and a slim chance of success. While waiting for a well paid position, a pool of hungry applicants wait to be exploited by ambulance companies.
The mayor of North Providence reportedly has friends who own an ambulance company. Now he has an empty fire station in the middle of his town. Now he slips in privatizing EMS services in his community.
I am the biggest proponent of free market capitolism there is, but some restrictions need to be in place. Life and death top my list. Life and death for profit makes no sense to me. Maybe I’m crazy, but this whole thing stinks.
For those of you not from around here, people actually voted for this guy. EMS needs respect, not moronic mayors and their vindictive plans. It’s bad enough the private ambulance companies pay peanuts, now the government wants to get in on the act. Things like this make me nuts.
Oh, and this mayor just closed one of the four fire stations in North Providence, and says he’s “delighted” with the outcome.
