I’m wiped out today; completely exhausted. It’s not what you think though. I used to have a busy shift on our non-dedicated truck. We were first-due for anything ALS coming out of three local hospitals, and we were the second-due ALS throughout the service area. It was a great truck for a young paramedic, but it was not uncommon to spend 22 of 24 hours in the rig.
Most days I don’t miss it. It can be brutal.
My current shift assignments are divided among two dedicated 911 ambulances. Each has its own first-due district and isn’t responsible for much else.
Yesterday was one of the rarest of rare days, known colloquially as the “no hitter.”
It sounds great on paper; 24 hours of getting paid to sit around and watch TV. It never works that way for me though. My body knows I do a certain average number of calls per shift. Variations occur, but if the call volume gets too low I get restless. I feel like the jobs are out there somewhere, stalking me.
If we make it to 23:00 without any patients, I can’t sleep. I may nod off, but I’ll wake up every half hour until something happens.
So here I am home from a refreshing 24 hours of doing nothing, and I’m wiped out. Here’s hoping tomorrow’s shift has a few patients for me.
Notes from Mosquito Hill 