Pin Cushion

I finished up an IV variance class not to long ago. The class itself was mainly painless(pun intended), the instructor was competent and well informed, he had good instructional material to pass along to the students, hell even sticking each other really was not that bad. It seemed as if everyone had practiced on the side prior to taking the class, so's not to look foolish while you're taking the class to teach you things you shouldn't know yet. As if you're going to get into trouble for learning during your class. I found that I have rather tough skin, as a few needles were bench trying to breach the iron wall that is my skin. That and apparently I tend to keep my veins a little farther from the surface. Pretty much no one could land a line on me, which was fun, as everyone had to try. I was the hard stick, and I of course retained my title throughout the entire process. And I walked away with only one bruise to even whisper about.

So this weekends on call shift will be my first crack at real patient insertions. In the crazy version of an ALS/BLS service I work in, I cannot start an IV without a medic there to cup my balls and make sure I don't freak out and stab the patient repeatedly with a dirty, used needle, taking directly from the sharps box of course. I'm really not that bitter, I promise. But hey it is the tag line under EMSMUTT, working in the shadows of medics. Which I of course I tell myself is short term.

Mainly I took the class to get a head start on the medic class, you know the whole, I have to know everything prior to taking the class train of thought. Anywho, class still starts sometime in January. Right now it's still to distant to really mean anything, I still work for a living and can't give up the day job just yet. Not that I'm not tested from time to time.

How Humbling...

So recently I made the large mistake of driving my favorite ladder truck into a tree. Now it's not as if I lined her up, hit the gas and wrapped my chariot around a 100 year oak. But I came up on the driveway a little "hot," cranked the wheel and and BAM, "there's a fuckin tree branch right there." This is actually what I had said in my head after I hit the sumbitch.

Let's paint the picture:
I'm already late for work as I lay in bed, being a complete slacker. The tones go out for a structure fire, smoke and flames showing. For a second I contemplate my options, get up and go to work which pleases my employer or go to the fire, which pleases me and the pour sap who's house is a blaze.

I decide to attend the fire, explaining to myself that I'm probably the only driver available at this time in the morning, well at least the only one that can drive our ladder truck, yes our ladder truck is our first out, don't get me started. In it's defense it is a tele-squirt.

As I enter the station I hit the repeater on the pager one more time to verify the address, which I can't immediately picture in my mind, not a big deal now, so I thought. I throw on the my gear, somewhat hoping or expecting someone else to arrive and drive the truck, yes it's my wishful thinking that at some point in time I might actually get to play and not drive the damn truck all the time.

Somebody asks "where're we going." I hit the repeater one more time as I walk away to jump in the truck. As I'm pulling out of the station with my rag-tag of newbies, I realize that nobody brought a pager with and the address was not written down for me. It's no loss yet as we recite the address as we remembered it.

We cruise through town, lights and sirens wailing, I travel down the road anticipating that soon I will see the chief vehicles that have arrived prior to me, lighting the runway for me, so to speak. The road forks, East or West, I have no pager, asking for the address will get you nothing but grief and a bitchy response. The crew thinks East. Literally a second after I've turned, the chief is on the squawk box, "Are you on West...?" Me, "No, negative, I'm on East...!"
Chief, "Well the address is... West ...!"
Me, "Copy that, turning around, Sh." as I let go of the mic button.

I whip the truck around at the next intersection and I stand on the gas pedal. I'm livid at this point, I don't make mistakes, I don't fuck up, I certainly don't drive away from a house on fire!

I drive past the deputy's car that's blocking traffic for me, and approach the assistant chief that points out the driveway, I turn and FUCK, I just ripped a damn branch right off a pine tree and it's now hanging off of my ladder truck. My beloved ladder truck, I'm so sorry girl.

With the assistant chief screaming as usual the firefighters remove the branch and I continue to drive forward approaching the "house fire." I was livid when I flipped the coin and guessed wrong at fork, now I'm red hot, blood pressure through the roof I hear my pulse in my ears. As I look forward to what was dispatched as a structure fire and in reality will be much much less, no smoke, no fire. The crews found a little fire in an attic space, dropped a bucket of water on it and called it good.

So let's recap the mornings festivities:
I got up from bed, not to go to work, but to fight the "big one." I drove, which meant no firefighting for me, turned incorrectly and looked rather dumb and to top it off I sheared off a rather large branch from a what was a nice pine tree. All for a bullshit fire. If I had any idea of the amount of bullshit that this fire was I would have either stayed in my fucking bed or gone to work. I felt trapped in the movie Clerks, "I'm not even supposed to be here."

Pisses me off. Listen to your gut people, as I knew I should not have gone to that call, but I did and look what happens.

"Did we learn anything from this call?" was all I got from the cheif.

Then I was of course reminded that the next time this happens I should report to the "branch officer." Great, I can't wait until the annual banquet. Shit.

New Toys

Our brand spanking new monitors have arrived! After much deliberation we decided to replace the Likepak 12s that we had been using since they came out. Our decision was to switch to the Phillips MRX monitor. I'm actually quite excited.

The new monitors will have NBP and ETCO2 which is an upgrade from the Lifepaks. All things aside Phillips can provide a better level of service compared to Lifepak. Which was the driving force behind us giving them a chance. Plus you can't beat the on screen 12 lead view.

After taking the mandatory training and some online stuff, they are here for our enjoyment. Through the weekend they are sitting in our lounges for us to play with and become slightly proficient with. I'm sure the first full arrest will be interesting, but the machine just seems so easy to use. Granted as an EMT my over zealous attitude might not be shared by many medics who've been glued to Lifepak for years.

I look forward to getting home after a long day at work and spending a little quality time with my new "partner." And as the night is going I'll get in late enough so I'll be alone, left to my own devices, insert sinister laugh.

Simple Amazing

If you didn't know or haven't had the chance to read Skywritings Blog, I would strongly recommend you take the time.

To a knuckle-dragger like myself it's simply amazes me to even write a blog much less a blog written in the same universe as hers. She writes with such a vision and in a way I could only dream of.

Her latest installment on Feb, 28th is of course no let down. In which she discovers the slightest bit of incite through an evening spent fishing. The connection with nature and the world at that one on one level is just awesome.

One can't read the post without a little jealousy. She found a "spot of time" (her term) that allowed her to reflect on her past, yet still look forward. I assume many would crave the same level of clarity or serenity. I know I do.

When you're a child the world seems so large and new, everything you touch and smell and feel, everything you see can grab you for a moment and in that moment the world stops. That moment captures you only for a second, but you felt time go by in a manner you can't describe. As you grow older your world shrinks on you, chokes you a bit. The distance between those moments increase in proportion to the speed of your life. You might not even notice, as I hadn't really noticed, that is until something jars you a bit, makes you think about your life, past, present and future. Why don't you seem to find the serenity, serenity you didn't even know you had lost.

I reflect and came to conclusion that with older eyes you might not need the vision of a toad jumping onto a new lilly pad or looking out from The Grand Tetons to find your serenity. Maybe one can create it wherever they are, just be revisiting those places, those times in their mind. I suspect that Scully's vision quest might have been boiling to the surface and giving the right avenue it did. I think that might be the answer, finding the right avenue. Your personal avenue.

Anyway stop by and pay her a visit, it was a fantastic post, it really made me think, hard.

Thank you Scully.

Sleeping Alone

I slide into bed, adjusting the pillows here and there. Enjoying the entire bed to myself, probably enjoying it more than my girlfriend would like to know. It had been a long rainy night. Driving the usual half an hour down to class through rain that wouldn't allow you to see the road much less the lines painted on it. The whole ride my mind is caught thinking about the impending final I'm about to take. How I'm pissed that it was moved up two weeks and that we haven't gone over the material that I'm being tested on tonight. But that's another post itself.

The test is as pointless as I thought. In my opinon it does little to evaluate me. I make the long journey home, to the awaiting bed and some much needed sleep.

Pillows set, blankets just right, fan on, close the shades, sprawled out like I own the place and it's "night-night."

The pager goes off, not with the usual tones that indicate a regular ambulance call, but with the "good tones." The ones indicating either a fire or a rescue call. (Rescue can mean extrication, full arrest, water rescue, ice rescue, trench rescue, I think you get the idea.)

"I need rescue out of Station #1 to.... on a full arrest" The pager screams.

I'm up and struggle a little with the blankets as they attempt to subdue me. After my own mini extrication I find my jumpsuit and radio. Seeing as I live across the damn street from the fire department along with my roommate and the neighboring house we make quite a sizable force at 2345 at night. If the girlfriend spends the night we have four EMT and two Medics basically standing-by. For a volunteer department it makes for really nice response times. We pull out with four EMTs and one Medic.

En route in three minutes, arrived in three minutes, found the PD doing CPR a minute after that, hell I think we might rival some full time joints with that kind of a response.

It looks like an ant colony going to work on this little old lady. Bags flying here and there, pads off, new pads on, ET equipment laid out and IV bags spiked ready for the Easy OI hook up.

Enter the second medic, having the better fly-by view, she halts the efforts just prior to them really starting. Assessing the possible downtime and the fact the first medic remarks that the lady's jaw is quite rigid. The decision is made to halt the efforts. A another strip is ran for confirmation.

As I rustle up my garbage and collect what's left of the IV bag I over hear the medic tell the daughter her mother is dead.

"No, No, you have to do something! You have to do something!" She protest.

"Ma'am, she's dead, she's gone, I'm very for your loss sorry"

We clear the scene, having only gotten out of bed exactly 20 minutes before.

I get home and clean up, hanging my jumpsuit on the same hook as always, boots right beside, radio back into it's charger. Waiting for their next trip.

It's impossible that her daughter will be able to sleep as well I hopefully will. It retrace the call in my mind as I fall asleep. Waiting for my personal medic to wake me up as she gets home at 0600, wondering what calls she's ran, her battles.

As usual I slept like a baby, I always do when the bed is mine.

Back in the Saddle, Somewhat

So being as last might was the first time I had been in an ambulance in just about six weeks, I thought it was worth writing about. The body of this post will of course consist of me ranting about people I hate, despised and generally like to talk shit about. Just to clear up things, I did not take a six week vacation. It just so happens that on our department we have EMS Teams. Each team covers the city for 48 hours straight, less the time you are at your regular job. I work from roughly 0700 to 1700, meaning I will respond up until about 0530 and start again at about 1730 give or take traffic. Obviously there are people who work nights on my team as well and they of course cover the day portion that I miss.

Call comes in for a older lady with chest pain. My usual medics are working a full arrest so I have two "fill ins" that will meet me and the rest of the ambulance crew at the scene.

Welcome to what I will call the "body" of the post...

Medic #1 calls in, "I'll be responding to the scene."

Medic #2 calls in, "Medic #2 same traffic."

About this time I all I can think about is Chris Farley in Tommy Boy, talking about jerking the wheel into a god damn bridge endbankment. I, like always push on, hoping that Medic #1 won't talk forever as she always does and the Medic #2 will not be the bitch that she usually is.

Before I go any further I feel it fair to air the dirty laundry and talk a a little regarding the reason for my distaste.

Medic #1, has been a medic for four years I would say, pulls down a ton of calls a year as she can jump on a call if they need people or so on. Now it's not that we are short medics, it's that when you hear her call in you probably think twice and decide not to go. She will scare people right off the rig. Mainly because she is annoying, talks a lot and I mean a lot, (about the dumbest shit I've ever heard and it all falls on deaf ears as no one even pays attention), she will argue that her treatment is correct or the most appropriate every time. The only time I will ride with her is when I have to or no one else has called in and they are short people, NEVER by choice.

Medic #2, I don't even care to know how long she has been a medic, maybe eight years or so. She's the perfect cookie cutter medic, the problem better fall into something that resembles a topic in our medical direction book, cause the patient surely won't receive anything else. She's bossy has no leadership skills and to top it all off, please continuing reading and you'll see

My very first experience with this gal was at a CPR refresher regarding the new AHA guidelines. You had to of course show your could perform and for only like a minute.

AHA instructor: "Alright, now we will go through and let everyone practice doing the new CPR, pulling our hands off the chest wall to allow for maximum recoil, any questions?"

Medic #2: "I don't do CPR, that's what I have EMTs for. Plus it hurts my wrists."

DONE, SEALED, OVER, MY FIRST OPINION OF THIS TWAT WAS FOREVER BURNED ON MY BRAIN. How dare you even utter something like that you snot nosed little prissy. Unbelievable and she is a firefighter to top it off. Yes this gal had to at one time play ruff and get dirty and pass some sort of physically agility test, but can't bother to do CPR for one minute, as if it is beneath her.

No, I'm sorry I reserve CPR for the peasant, the slightly trained chimps, you know the ones, strong back weak mind, the mouth breathers, knuckle draggers and so on. They are the ones who should be practicing, seeing as like only 2% of full arrest actually come back they might need to practice on saving a life instead of me. I just pushed the drugs like the little book tells me too. Oh squiggle line like that I push this, oh it changed to that squiggle, the book says push this next.

Thank you, that was very cathartic.

Anyway the call went relatively painless, big mouth didn't really talk to much and cookie cutter was semi-pleasant and kept to herself.

Another life saves, another check on the wall of insanity.

Old Man Fire

For those who don't know, my porthole to EMS fun is through the paid on call fire department I am a member of (we have our own ambulances of course. Generally the ratio of EMS calls to fire calls is about four or five for every one fire call. The majority being car and dumpster fires, looking at the stats fire prevention education is apparently quite successful. Although it is suspected that arson fire might rise as more people are forced from their homes due to rises int erst rates, yada yada yada. Since the chance to "play" in old man fire's world is very infrequent the next best thing is to attend a "live burn" training exercise. Now for those not in the business a live burn can mean anything from lighting wood pallets on fire in a concrete structure designed for fire training, to lighting old wrecked cars on fire. But my personal favorite is the old farm house that needs to be demolished or rebuilt. This is just such a case.

As soon as I sign up things starting sliding down hill though. One chief originally set to attend, backs out, as now I can drive and pump the fire truck. Great, just what I wanted to do, be strapped to the damn truck and miss all the fun. Next I find out my crew. One newbie know it all who's still in medic school and (see the newbie post below about the "pregnant women" below). The next is a relative of the chief and general kiss ass. Through constant mental beat downs he's slowly shaping into a good member. Beside the blood ties he is a solid firefighter, just young and naive in the world. Lastly the my personal newbie that I mentor, whom I talked into going and taking pictures as he is currently in his firefighter training and can not join in the fun just yet.

Now the department that has so graciously offered to make room for us is quite rural and as such has their own manner of conducting business. This is what I call a true fire department and they area as redneck as they come, god love em. Thankfully they have enlisted certified instructors to carry out the entire burn, without their guidance we mouth breathers would hurt ourselves. Like I said the house is a rural farm house, meaning there are not hydrants in sight, in fact the closest one is two miles away. So "drop tanks" are used. Picture a 12' x 12' swimming pool with a metal frame and tarp like bladder in which to pour water into. The water is "dropped" from a "water tender." A water tender is a fire truck made to haul water in large quantities, theirs holds 2700 gallons, mine 1500. It is then sucked out by another fire truck and then pushed into the fire lines and then hopefully onto the fire.

The comedy starts with my dumping my water. As I'm emptying the tank and chatting with my new found "water commander" friend, who might have been the class clown in high school and every other stage in his life. Anyways he takes the liberty of throwing a stack of road cones into the drop tank right next to me, which of course unleashes a nice splash directly onto me. At this point it was declared that "It was on." Over the course the day we shot each other with and fire hose we could find and of course had an absolute blast during.

ON TO THE FIRE:
My crew consisting of newbie, myself and golden boy prepare to enter the burning farm house. Pay in mind that there have been 10 previous fire in this house at that time, meaning she's hot, steamy and probably weakening before our eyes. The fire's lit, we do our walk around to size up the fire and check for anything really scary. After that newbie grabs the nozzle, with me right behind him, giving guidance and so forth. Golden boy will be making sure we have enough hose inside the house.

Here we go, the moment of truth, we're going into satan's living room. Not that my team knew, but I had asked the instructors for a "good fire," meaning multiple rooms on fire and to let us wait a little while longer before entering to let the fire grow. His only response was a large smile and a nod of the head. God I love this job. Newbie's at the door on his knees, I'm standing right behind him with the instructor to my left. By this time the entrance vestibule is rolling very nicely, flames licking out the door and over my head. Looking deeper into the house you see nothing but flames dancing, waiting for the battle with newbie. Right as newbie attempts to cool the ceiling of the vestibule with a quick shot of water the fire jumps out the front door, filling almost half of the door with a fireball. Apparently this had spooked the shit out of newbie as he is now laying on his back on the concrete steps as if he had lit a firecracker with to short of a fuse. I look towards the instructor and even though we still have masks on you can still see the smiles on our faces.

With a quick "get the hell in there" to the rookie we make entry, he knocks down the fire in the vestibule, which was only the heat and flames seeping out of the next room anyway. As he turns to look into the kitchen, which by this time is completely involved with fire, I mean floor to ceiling, he stops and attempts to shoot some water into the room and the ceiling. Only to find out his hit the nozzle and adjusted the spray to a huge fog pattern, it does nothing except wetting the door frame. Finally with much poking and a little shoving by me we enter the room. He does a good job of attacking the fire and for the most part I'm proud of him. Although he keeps saying, "I see fire" and "it's on fire should I spray it?" In between the laughter I inform him that yes, anything that is on fire can be sprayed with water. Including the floor as the smoldering pieces of the room are burning into my knees like red hot razor blades. We finally get to the stairs and try to climb them, the fire is quite intense and newbie tries quite hard to make headway. After about one minute the truck sirens all sound out in unison. Quick definition: Truck sirens mean get the fuck out and make it quick as the building might be fall down. We scramble out dragging our hose lines and accounting for everyone outside. While we were inside a portion of the roof had collapsed above us, from the inside we had never noticed, didn't hear it, nothing. But after throwing a little water on it the next crew went in and had their fun.

After a little sit down with the instructor regarding our attack we headed for the cooler and a refreshing drink. All in all I was happy with my fun, newbie did fairly well considering the amount of knee to ass convincing I had to do. He's just going through the growing pains of becoming a firefighter. I think when you join a fire department or think about putting out fires people overlook the fact that it is scary and hot, and usually hurts a little to a lot as well. You have to learn to push past your comfort level creating a new comfort level in the process. I have no doubt this fire made him a better firefighter, which is of course the entire purpose. I of course was sad as I didn't get to tame old man fire, I only instructed my newbie. I only hope that my sacrifice may save his ass once.

After that I went and threw the "water command" and the golden boy into the drop tank and yes it was full of water. One big swoop was all it took. Just about everyone was crying with laughter, even their chief.

God I love my rural brothers and sisters. In their native tongue, "that shit wouldn't fly at your department," and they are one hundred percent correct.