Notes from Mosquito Hill » EMS

Rescuing Providence

mack505 — Sun, 01 Aug 2010 03:42:35 +0000

Lt. Morse has a great post up today. Go, read it. Michael captures a side of life and the job which I try to portray, and he’s been doing it longer and better than I.

If you don’t regularly follow Rescuing Providence, you should.

Ballet

mack505 — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 03:46:18 +0000

The small boy stares in awe, doing what little boys have done at firehouses for over a century. He’s had plenty of time to see whatever he wants. He’s looked inside all of the compartments and had all of the tools explained to him. He’s sat in the engine and pretended to drive the gleaming monster, every boy’s dream.

Amazingly he’s not impressed with the ladder truck. He wants to go sit in the kitchen with the Real Firemen. One of them gives him a red toy helmet lettered Fire Chief.

And then the tones drop.

The middle aged man heads home from his errands, a quick run to the post office and the local grocery store. It’s a beautiful summer afternoon, if a bit on the hot side. The windows are down, the radio is up, and the last thing he sees is the chrome grille of the large SUV as it crosses the double-yellow line.

There’s a long pause. Pauses are bad. We don’t know where to go yet, and our lone dispatcher is too busy answering multiple phone calls to tell us. The young boy is oblivious to the sudden rise in tension; to him it’s just more radio noise.

After an interminable ten seconds, the dispatcher’s voice comes over the loudspeakers. “Attention Engine 683. Engine 683 respond, County Highway in the vicinity of Random Number for the motor vehicle crash.” His voice is calm, but the phones are ringing in the background.

My nephew’s grandfather offers to take custody of him for me. I grab my gear and head for the cab. I’m the last aboard, so I’m stuck riding backwards. The big Cummins propels the rig out the door with a puff of black smoke, and the sirens wind up as we turn left off the ramp. From my seat I can see my nephew in the apparatus bay, beaming. This is no demonstration, no parade; this is REAL, and he knows it.

Back in the cab, the headsets come out. “Fire Alarm to Engine 683. Police on scene report entrapment at your incident.” The multiple phone callers were right. This won’t be a minor job. Size-up continues. “Let’s see. The police station is in the 400s. The apartments are at 800, so Random Number must be. . .”

“The Curve,” the Captain interjects for me.

The Curve. Scene of numerous close calls and a few Bad Ones over the years.

We’re riding heavy today. Another call firefighter and I augment the regular crew. More hands are a good thing.

“Engine 683, police are reporting a possible Code F at your scene.” At least they didn’t ask us to ‘Step It Up.’ That’s a pet peeve of mine. We’re already moving as fast as we are safely able. No matter how much the PD begs, we can’t go any faster.

The paramedics arrive before us. They had a geographic head start.

As we approach the scene, we are forced left of the center line. No traffic is coming the other way. None. That’s a bad sign. The early evening rush backs up in the right lane. At one point I feel the brakes pull hard and the engine jinks to the left. Some fool has tried to make a u-turn out of the backup, oblivious to the large, loud, brightly-flashing emergency vehicle approaching. The chauffeur was ready, though, and we pass without further incident. Hopefully the fool will think next time.

As we arrive and swing to block the road, I get my first view of the scene from the side window. The car is almost unrecognizable. Last in means I’m seated next to the door, so first out. I head straight for the heavy hydraulics, and the faithful Honda starts on the first pull. The medic makes one request: “The sooner you get this car open, the happier I’ll be.”

The ballet begins.

Maine Morgan

mack505 — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 23:45:18 +0000

July 2 – we spent the weekend at the Maine Morgan Horse Show at the Deerfield (NH) fairgrounds. This is Scotty. He won all his classes at Granite State Morgan last week. (He won this week too, but didn’t have much competition.)

July 3 – they had a bit of a medical emergency in the show ring. It was very weird to stand back and be just a civilian. The guys from Deerfield Rescue, Raymond Ambulance, and Exeter ALS had things well in hand, though. One of the medics was an old friend, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. (If you read this, Hi Chris!)

Incidents and accidents, hints and allegations

mack505 — Sat, 03 Jul 2010 21:00:00 +0000

Today has been the final day of the Farewell Tour. My last shift on the Eastern Front has brought lots of handshakes and well-wishes. Who knows when I’ll be back.

Every shift is somehow memorable, but this one has had compartment doors opening at inopportune times, a minor crash, and a surprisingly nice interaction with one of our regular patients. I may have my doubts about our EMS system in general and my career in particular, but I still enjoy this job.

Now it’s time to hand over the keys for a while.

“Operations, this is Medic 9. We’ve been relieved. Good night and God bless.”

And there’s a cold beer waiting with my name on it.

————
Author’s note: I originally penned this on my phone during the last hour of Wednesday’s shift. I held it back because I felt it needed work. After a few days’ reflection, I’ve decided to let it stand.

The elephant in the room

mack505 — Thu, 24 Jun 2010 22:15:43 +0000

I’m sure many of you have heard by now: my name is on The List.

I haven’t been writing much lately. I just haven’t felt like it with this hanging over my head. Of course I cannot discuss the details of my situation here; with lawyers and government agencies involved, anything I say could have unexpected consequences. I will only caution that you should not believe everything you hear in the media. Some very broad brushes have been used.

Aside from my legal problems, I’ve had two major fears this past week: telling my family and telling my readers. My parents have been very understanding, but of course they get to hear my whole story.

Strangely, facing the Blogosphere has been almost as hard as facing my parents. I read a number of the major EMS blogs, and I count some of their authors among my friends. Disappointing them is a big deal to me. I know that many of them have the improvement of our profession at heart, and the accusations against me and my co-workers definitely move things in the other direction.

But I’ve been outed by the Boston Globe. And I can’t discuss it. There’s no use hiding.

So there you have it. Disgraced, suspended, and evaluating a lot of things about my life. But that’s another post.

The floggings (and the blogging) will continue until morale improves.

Medic 6

mack505 — Thu, 24 Jun 2010 21:11:12 +0000

I sit enjoying the warm solstice evening, reading a good book in the garage. The city has had no love for us today.

A reported diabetic who only wanted a cup of coffee. A morbidly obese patient who called 911 looking for a wheelchair van.

A reported overdose in a fast food bathroom. I haven’t done a good OD in a bathroom in ages. Still haven’t.

And a truck swap. I hate swapping trucks. It never feels right for the rest of the shift.

There are forces in motion in my life; things begun long ago and now largely beyond my control. I don’t yet know where they will lead me or how I feel about them, but their effect is tectonic. Large shifts will occur.

A truck swap. An old friend from my past has returned. Medic 6 looms over my right shoulder, a ghost of good times past. We started our careers together or near enough as to make no difference; me the new paramedic and her the new transfer truck. Now she sits here reassuringly, the faithful steed peeking out of its stall.

My days in this city and indeed this job may be numbered, but tonight I get to spend them with an old friend.

P365 – June 16

mack505 — Fri, 18 Jun 2010 11:34:19 +0000

Project 365 – June 7

mack505 — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 13:45:24 +0000

Chronicles of EMS

mack505 — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 00:36:22 +0000

Back last fall I wrote a post about The Project, where a medic from SF and a medic from the UK visited each other’s systems to compare and learn.

If you don’t follow my blogroll, you might not know the rest of the story. The Project has evolved into Chronicles of EMS, and it’s become a social media phenomenon. There are plans to go worldwide, and to try to get onto mainstream TV.

And therein lies the problem. The TV types say Chronicles of EMS: The Reality Series needs a new name, and you can help.

Mark Glencourse has all the details over at 999Medic.com.

Watch what’s already been made, and make a suggestion for a new name. The winner gets fantastic prizes, and hopefully a place in TV history.

(I’ve been remiss in my duties as a blogger. I promised this post for Friday the 4th, but I’ve been busy playing with my family. Priorities and all that.)

Grumpy sky

mack505 — Fri, 28 May 2010 03:57:23 +0000

A hot July day. The problem is it’s only May. The weather people call it unseasonably warm; I call it wonderful. This is New England, so it won’t last anyway.

We leave the air-conditioned coolness of the crew quarters for the heat of the garage as the overhead door rumbles upward for what feels like the tenth time today. I zip the windows up for protection from both the heat and the siren, and RP flips the remote AC switch for the patient compartment.

Then we are off into the evening.

As we approach Fire Headquarters, I realize everything is wet and steaming. This is not a simple carwash or lawn sprinkler; the last two blocks have seen recent rain. We round the corner and hiss through puddles for another two blocks, then the roads dry up again.

On scene, as we wait for the firemen to force open a door, I notice the sky. It’s not an angry sky, not in the Auntie-Em-Auntie-Em- get-Toto-and-head-for-the-root-cellar sense. It’s more of a grumpy sky, an it’s-been-a-long-hot-day-please-leave-me-alone sky.

As we emerge from the house with our patient, I can hear the first rumblings. They are barely audible over the screaming diesels but not unexpected. I turn around to look over the sea behind us. One cloud is thicker than the others, darker, seemingly reaching all the way to the surface of the sea. As I watch it drops a lightning bolt into the ocean directly between me and the Big City skyline.

The full moon attempts to make an appearance, struggling through the blackness. The result is a glowing ember of cloud, a strange candlewick apparition in the sky.

As we pull away, the rain begins.