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The Mendoza Line

4 comments

Do you ever feel like we’re playing a losing game?

The other day I went through my cardiac arrest statistics. Dispatched to 91 cardiac arrests since I became a medic. ~30/year. I have worked approximately 50% of those. I have EXACTLY 1 cardiac arrest save.

ONE!.

If this were baseball, I’d have a batting average of 0.01098901098901099.  OOOH! If we call all of the no start calls “sacrifices” I’d have an average of 0.021739130434782608. If we only say that the ~45ish times I’ve actually worked an arrest count as “at bats”, then I have an amazing 0.022222222222222223.

In baseball the record for lowest career batting average for a player with more than 2,500 at-bats belongs to Bill Bergen, a catcher who played from 1901 to 1911 and recorded a .170 average in 3,028 career at-bats. I’m well below the “Mendoza Line”

What is YOUR batting average?

 

 

 

 

Posted by on October 25, 2011 • Filed under: administration-leadership, Coping, ems-health-safety, ems-topics, Failure, fire-rescue-topics, news, patient-management, rescues, special-operations, technology-communications, technology-communications-ems-topics, training-development, training-fire-rescue-topics, Uncategorized

Miss You, grandpa.

2 comments

As we near on the anniversary of 9/11, the memories of my grandfathers final days are turning pretty deep.

I’d started a post, and maybe I’ll get back to it… but then I just read my short post from a year ago.

I can’t stop the tears.

I miss you, Grandpa.

Posted by on September 1, 2011 • Filed under: Asher, Coping, ems-topics, father, fire-rescue-topics, line-of-duty, major-incidents, Uncategorized

Night Shift Blues

2 comments

For the past 11 weeks I’ve been back on nights. I’ve spent 50% of the last 3 months away from my family, missing them more than I can describe. The hardest part has been saying “goodnight” to my son over the phone. When we started, it was particularly hard. He didn’t really get it, and mostly just ignored the voice on the phone. Now he gets it… and maybe it is even harder… His sad little voice is just too much sometimes.

But in a week, I get to go back to days. There are a lot of changes with that switch to days, all of which make me anxious… But I get to go back to days! I get to tuck my boy in, sleep in a bed next to my wife, and see them both in the morning.

The stress working nights has put on my family is hard to explain… but god damn it will be nice to be home like a normal dad. Three years ago when I started this career I couldn’t imagine how it could put strains on my life….

Be safe out there, friends…

Godspeed,
m3

Posted by on July 9, 2011 • Filed under: Changes, Coping, ems-topics, father, Heart Strings, husband

Sincerity

1 comment

If you are just trying to be dramatic and get attention, downing a bottle of tylenol is a really crappy way to do it.

Because you’ll probably die. Not might. You will most likely die, if you take 100 Tylenol capsules. I’m sorry, but I didn’t do it to you. If you need help or attention, ask. If the people you ask don’t pay attention, ask someone else.

Or suck. It. Up. If you don’t really want to die, don’t do something that is most certainly going to kill you. And PS, killing yourself is a petty, selfish and disgusting act. Killing yourself because your 15 year old pimply faced boyfriend broke up with you for cheating on him with his pimply faced best friend is just fucking stupid.

Posted by on February 27, 2011 • Filed under: Coping, ems-topics, Failure

Unnatural Fear

2 comments

Everyone who works in EMS knows the reality of death and dying. We make a living on the simple fact that people get sick, hurt, and die. Peoples stupidity, misfortune, and bad luck are my job security.

What makes that knowledge hard to swallow is not other people’s emergencies.  The sick and dying do not greatly effect me. Obviously some cases are more gut wrenching than others, but most of the time the dying do not have faces, stories or names. They are just another body on the bed. You have to think this way to survive in this field. You can’t take them all home with you.

But I do take home a very unnatural fear. That doing my job–the job I love to do despite crappy ours, management and pay–will take my life. Every single EMS and Fire Line of Duty Death scares the crap out of me. EMS is a dangerous line of work. Driving fast and hard through red lights, stop signs, traffic and weather is bound to end badly.

But I think I am too worried. I often think about my son growing up fatherless, my wife widowed… and I am not sure how long I can keep doing it. I LOVE my job. I love the occasional day where I can help someone and actually do more than be a glorified taxi driver…

But at what point am I worrying too much? At what point will that get in the way of doing my job? It is just hard to be another “warm body in the seat” when I know that the risks are so real.

Posted by on January 29, 2011 • Filed under: Coping, ems-health-safety, ems-topics, firefighter-safety-health

Timing

2 comments

When we got in the cab after loading a particularly odoriferous and rotund body the irony couldn’t have been any stronger…

Apparently I had left the radio on the oldies station, as “Stairway to Heaven” was blaring away…

I’d be lying if I said things like this didn’t make me smile. Since lying is bad, I won’t…

I’m actually still smiling…

Posted by on December 4, 2010 • Filed under: Coping, ems-health-safety, ems-topics

Dirt Bags…

3 comments

While perusing the blog front I was reminded of a few calls… While one I am writing now, the other I will just let Kelly Grayson tell for me….

Often times during those calls, while showing my stern and focused face behind swollen eyes ready to burst with tears, all I really want to do is say a nice health “Fuck You” and flip the bird…

Instead I put my nose down, do my job, and treat those we can. The shit days are when the dirt bag is your patient.

Posted by on July 12, 2010 • Filed under: Coping, ems-topics, Heart Strings

Why it Hurts

16 comments

Like a page from a book, dispatch sends us code 3 for a finger amputation. Grumbling as I roll out of bed while dispatch updates us–a 27 year old female at one of the local state-run group homes who intentionally put her hand in a garbage disposal. The grumbling increases. The staff at these facilities leave something to be desired and the patients usually are fine. This has to be an overreaction, doesn’t it?

As we round the corner inside the door, the scene is as expected–practically empty.  One staff member sits with our wheelchair bound patient, everyone else seems to be missing, despite it being meal time. A quick once over leads me to believe there is no amputation, the annoyance sets in.

So I ask my patient “whats going on tonight? How come you did this?” I am completely unprepared for the answers that follow. My patient–a 27 year old paraplegic female who suffers from Bipolar disorder, severe depression, and a gamut of other psychological issues–literally just came from our Behavioral Hospital. The very behavioral hospital she has requested to be transported to several times over the last few weeks due to depression and serious thoughts of suicide.

The story goes like this… as a child she was sexually abused by her father, her brothers, and her uncles. Her father pushed her down a set of stairs leading to a mild Traumatic Brain Injury and complete paralysis from the belly button down.

The state put her back in this home where these ingrates continued to sexually assault, mentally abuse, and psychologically destroy her for the next 9 years.  Finally the father is arrested for assaulting a neighbor’s daughter–when the story comes out again and the state takes her into their custody–only to be bounced from group home to group home, from one mental facility to another and back to the group homes. She has literally begged to be given inpatient treatment and the physicians say she just needs long term counseling. She is unable to do anything for herself–she cannot function without someone pushing her along. Not because she is physically weak, but because she is mentally broken.

She hurts because she has to actually hurt herself to get anyone to listen. I tell her we’ll get her help but she knows what that means. I will take her to yet another hospital where yet another doctor will push her back into the care of undereducated and overworked group home staff. All she wants is to feel safe. She wants to know that she can’t get out and THEY can’t get in–but no one will give this to her.

By the time we arrive at the hospital I know her story. I know enough to know that she needs this help. She knows what she needs, but doesn’t have the resources to do it herself.  As I transfer care I take the doc aside and give him the story. I tell him how I think she is a genuine threat to herself and that her mental anguish is real–not like so many of the calls we go on–the ones that made me grumble as I rolled out of bed. This is the real deal.

– — –

Two months later the tones startle me awake. Code 4, Any unit in position, Cardiac Arrest to an address I am all too familiar with. Dispatch updates with a 28 year old female, unconscious, not breathing, her throat is cut.

My foot reaches the floor. My knuckles are white on the wheel. My partner looks at me and asks me if I’m O.K.  I just drive faster. I walk in, the same deserted scene. The same deafening silence. I look down and know we’re too late. I let out a sigh, turn around and make the call.

I hurt because we failed.


Posted by on June 12, 2010 • Filed under: Code 3, Code 4, Coping, Dispatch, ems-topics, Heart Strings, Psych • Tagged: , , , ,

Clarity

3 comments

I told you all about my decision to finally go to the doctor and take care of myself…
Well I did it. My doctor agreed with me that my symptoms seem very much like Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. She prescribed be Strattera, rather than one of the controlled substances(per my request) so that I a) won’t have to worry about habit forming medications, b) won’t have to worry about work drug screenings.

While the medication has only been in my system for 4 days, I feel better already. It most certainly is partly placebo effect, but whatever it is, I am happy to have finally done something about it.

I am dedicated to being a better person–at home and at work, and this is my first step in that direction.

I feel like I can think clearly without my all too common cloud of thoughts bouncing around. I hope this works. I really do…

Godspeed, Friends

m3

Posted by on April 17, 2010 • Filed under: Coping, FirstTime, Home, husband, Life, Psych, sleep, Stress • Tagged: , , , ,

Focus

4 comments

Obviously I have been absent from posting here at medicthree.com. Part of this has been due to my efforts over at rootmedic.net, but mostly it has been due to a gamut of things… For a long time I have suffered from anxiety and some depressive tendencies. I have tried various PPI’s over the years with limited help. Mostly I suffered from the side effects rather than benefited from them.

For a long time I have gone med free and it has just proven too much. Every day I wake up tired, unfocused, with a cloudy mind. I am easily irritable, easily frustrated, and easily overwhelmed. While I am fully capable of doing my job–I feel that I am not doing it at 100%. I lose my train of thought and often can’t pay attention during classes or training.

I think I have Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. In the morning I am going to call my doctor to meet. Obviously I am not qualified to self diagnose… But I do know how to recognize these symptoms. I do know that prior attempts with common medications resulted in a more complicated set of symptoms. I do know that I am sick of doing nothing.

It is hard for me to say this, because I think ADD in children is grossly over diagnosed. It is often an excuse for parents who cannot reign their children in. While legitimate cases exist, it is often used when good parenting is all that is needed.

Another frustrating part is that Doctors are often inclined to just diagnose anxiety or depression for these symptoms. I don’t think that is the sum of my problems, but more an element of my symptoms. This is just my thought though, so I will only “guide” my doctor so much…

So wish me luck. I miss writing here, but I just haven’t had the energy. I am hoping to figure something out and admitting that something is going on is the first step, right? After being tested for Celiac, food allergies, and the like, I can only assume my intestinal problems are psychologically related as there seems to be no medical cause. Because of this I have to do something now.

I want to be well and I want to be a good father. I don’t want to be one of those people who have an excuse for why they aren’t well. I just want to be well.

Posted by on April 11, 2010 • Filed under: Asher, Coping, father, husband, Life • Tagged: , , ,

The Drive Home

3 comments

In EMS there are a few tools we use as coping mechanisms. CISM(Critical Incident Stress Management) is the most common, despite many organizations not having active CISM systems. While I find CISM to be useful, it is rarely deployed for run of the mill EMS calls. Death and Dying is our business, and if we had a CISM meeting(which includes everyone from first responders to ED doctors and Medical Directors) for every death in the field, we would spend more time in meetings that in our trucks.

This leads many of us to find our own personal stress management tools and techniques. Some people vent to coworkers, some people blog… Some people pray, or drink, or work out, or smoke. Me…. I drive home.

Every morning when my shift gets over at 0700 I hope for a partly cloudy sky. This winter has been good to me. With crisp, cool winds, light cloud cover and beautiful sunrises, I have done more call reviews on my drive home, alone with Country Music in the background than any CISM meeting or Jack and Coke could provide me.

I use the 9 mile long, 15 minute drive to go over the night before. By the time I am home, I always feel better than I started. The roads are clear in my direction, everyone headed into the city for work while I head out on my way home. I drive a hilly road straight into the sun and every morning is a great reminder that the cycle keeps going.

People live. People die. In between we can only keep on trying. Finding a tool to review, learn from, and sometimes forget bad shifts is one of the most important things I have done in my short bid in EMS. Without my drive home to a different kind of chaos, I really don’t know what I would do.

Fortunately I don’t have to.

Posted by on February 18, 2010 • Filed under: Coping, ems-topics, Home, medic • Tagged: ,

Uninspired.

9 comments

For months I have struggled to keep this blog alive. I have posts inside me. I have posts started. I just can’t muster them out. This is really the way a big chunk of my life is going. I am incredibly happy with my wife and son, but something is amiss.

I am often distracted, barely able to pay attention to the simplest of things. Medically, I am an undiagnosed ball of annoying symptoms–not debilitating but the sum of them is wearing me–and my family–out.  I stugle to be the man I promised my wife I would be, while being a father I respect and a paramedic I would trust.

That is all I want–to be a good husband, father, and paramedic. Just like the subtitle to my blog. That is me. There is little more to me than those three things. Sure, I am a son, a brother, a friend. But the sum of these three things defines the man I am today.  Yet I find myself uninspired. I have an amazing wife, an adorable 1 year old son and a job I love doing and I am just uninspired. When I get home, I kiss my wife, hug my son, and go to bed. I fail miserably at sleeping all day and then repeat the cycle.

I make goals–to work out, eat better, spend wiser, study harder–yet I never follow through with any of them. I set these goals again and again and I always end up where I started. Uninspired.

I have the desire to move past all of this, but I just need the right push? What will that push be?

Posted by on February 10, 2010 • Filed under: Boredom, Changes, Coping, Failure, father, HELP, Home, husband, medic

Being an EMS Dad

14 comments

I’ve been a paramedic for about 19 months. Not very long, really. My first year was spent working for two teeny tiny services with teeny tiny call volumes. The last seven months with a service that runs right around 10,000 calls a year with 3 trucks covering. Needless to say, I have experienced a lot more in the last 7 months than I did in the year prior to this.

I have been a father for just under a year. 11 months and 7 days, to be exact. As a father I know I will be learning what to do for the rest of my life. My son is amazing and if I didn’t have the amazing wife that I do–well, there isn’t a shot in hell I could do this on my own.

What I didn’t expect was for the lessons EMS would teach me about being a father. The skills I’ve learned since becoming a father are less about medical procedure and more about communication, lessons, and reality.

Reality is the hardest part. Shit happens. Inevitably Asher will get hurt. Inevitably Asher will get sick. Inevitably Asher will make us mad, and I’ll be forced to discipline him. Some how, working in EMS has taught me some skills to be better prepared(or so I am hoping!).

The most surprising skill tune up I’ve gotten while working on the streets came in the form of communication. My communication skills suck. I bottle things up, take them out on those I love, and then don’t understand when they get mad about it. I can be hot tempered, ill mannered, and down right inappropriate. Dealing with frustrating, rude, and down right worthless patients over the last 19 months has taught me that sometimes despite what you think and feel about someone, you have to be able to do your job with self restraint.

Self Restraint. Compassion. Patience. Even now when Asher is so young and innocent, these qualities are getting more fine tuned. After a long night at work, coming home to a screaming baby isn’t easy. Then again, Mrs. MedicThree was home alone with him all night–I don’t imagine me coming home and ignoring them helps her get out the door much either. Before being a medic, father, and husband it was all about me. Now, it rarely is.

Being a medic has taught me how to diffuse situations that could otherwise end badly. Calming a psych patient down, giving stern advice to someone abusing the system, and making sure I am doing so within the bounds of being a Paramedic–and not a judge–is more than a challenge at times. When I first started doing this, I would jump down someones throat for “wasting my time”. Now I understand that sometimes it is easier and better to spend a minute or two trying to figure out(and make the patient) what the hell is going on.

When it comes to life at home, it is more logical to take a breath and treat my family with the respect they deserve. Does this mean I am always cool and calm? Nope. I get stressed. But I like to think that when big things come up I can handle myself–this is something that prior to EMS I’m not sure I could do.

The most unexpected part about being an EMS dad is how being a dad has changed being a medic. Pediatric calls give me a different chill I couldn’t imagine pre-fatherhood. The way I communicate with patients and families has evolved greatly since being married and becoming a father. I spend a little more time trying to make my patients feel better than I did before–most of the time this is done by talking. Sometimes I am a little stern–call it honest–but sometimes that is exactly what the patient needs, and sometimes it is what they want.

Trying to pick and choose the parts of EMS I bring home to my family is the hardest part. Learning how to cope with the realities of my job and the challenges of being a husband and father will continue to be the hardest thing I encounter on a daily basis–but I’m excited for the challenge.

In this line of work it is easy to try and separate your personal and professional lives completely–but it is impossible to succeed. Finding a way to allow them to compliment each other is the key to survival.

Posted by on January 12, 2010 • Filed under: Asher, Changes, Coping, ems-topics, Failure, father, Home, husband, medic • Tagged: , , ,

False Hope.

6 comments

As EMS providers, we have a very limited scope of tools to help our patients. We are obligated to follow our protocols and treat was is evident from our assessment. This means your assessment is likely the most powerful tool you have in providing medical care. Ironically our most powerful tool, communication, is often completely forgotten by EMS providers.

The hardest part about our job is being honest with patients and their families. Often times we are present in end of life situations. These are difficult in controlled atmospheres–let alone the seemingly claustrophobic nature of EMS scenes. When a patient is dying we need to be honest with them and their loved ones. We need not be brutally honest, but most certainly we can not allow false hope.

False hope is a natural defense mechanism in the grieving process. Denial. Even as EMS providers we sometimes hold on to false hope in difficult calls to get by–but this is neither practical nor healthy in the end. Allowing and providing for false hope will create more shock when reality strikes. Death is a natural process–not always a pleasant process–but natural none the less.

As providers it is our duty to assist our patients and their families in understanding the reality of their situation. Does this mean saying “you’re going to die”? Not at all. But it does mean being clear that the patient is very ill, and you are doing all you can but 1) they need higher level of care 2) they may not make it to that higher level.

Does this make the process of dying easier? Absolutely not. For patients and their loved ones knowing their impending doom can be equally troubling. But it is still our duty to be truthful with our patients. Where I believe this honesty to provide an important relief to EMS is in the all to difficult cease or withholding of resuscitation talk we find ourselves in during these types of calls. Being honest with a patient and their family gives them more time, possibly only seconds, for reality to sink in.

When termination of resuscitation becomes part of the discussion, patients families are often unprepared. Giving them the truthful answers to questions about the reality of the condition of their loved ones will certainly help them to make the decisions to terminate care when necessary.

How do you handle these difficult moments in patient communication?

Posted by on December 11, 2009 • Filed under: Coping, ems-topics, medic, patient-management • Tagged:

Unspoken

7 comments

Often times on a call, it is what ISN’T said that is most important. As paramedics we are trained to ask a set of questions necessary for assessing our patients, but more often than not, we know the important answers. We know when our patients are sick. We know when they hurt. We know when they can’t breathe. Those things are usually obvious.

The hardest thing we often know without a word spoken… we know when our patients are ready to die. The look–or lack there of–in their eyes, their posture, their sound–they all tell the tale all too well.

no_evilThe trouble is that we are trained to prolong life. Little about our training prepares us for letting allowing watching someone die. We are trained to do everything possible to prolong life–whether that is what the patient wants or what is best for them. We are trained to give drugs, artificially ventilate, pace, defibrillate, and otherwise interfere in the dying process. We are not trained to let people die.

So what do we do when the ultimate time comes? Outside of a DNR most systems won’t allow you to cease rescussitation. My system takes the word of a family member very seriously–outside of suspicious circumstances, we honor the wishes of an immediate family member. We also take the time to educate them on what will happen either way. I find it important to make sure someone knows that even if we get them to the hospital alive, they very well might never wake up.

My job isn’t as cut and dry as most think. I rarely save lives. Most of what I do has little to do with medicine or emergencies. Most of my night is spent dodging drunks or other frequent fliers. In the last 6 weeks my partner and I had 4 or 5 really “exciting” calls. Maybe I’m sick/twisted/strange/gross, but the exciting calls are the ones that make you go “aw shit…”. Most of the time we are running call after call of No Ambulance Needed or PD to Transport. But every so often we actually run a “real” call. Every so often we come across a sick patient.

Every so often that patient has already made up their mind that theypain can’t fight anymore. Who are we to decide otherwise? Does what we do make a difference other than to prolong a life of pain and discomfort? Are we doing harm in interjecting in what is the obvious end of the dying process? Are we causing pain? Obviously we are bound by our protocols/guidelines. Obviously we are bound as medical professionals to follow the medical standard. But at what point are we doing MORE harm?

Posted by on October 26, 2009 • Filed under: Coping, ems-topics, Heart Strings, medic, patient-management

On Behalf of a Greatful Nation

14 comments

At 0846 AM Eastern Time on 09/11/2001 American Airlines Flight 11 struck the north side of Tower One of the World Trade Center Complex. This was the beginning of one of the worst days in American History.

Before this day “hijackings” were about money and power. Before this day you were much less likely to look at a Middle Eastern male the way you do now. Before this day the word “terrorist” wasn’t a political buzz word. Before this day there wasn’t a burning grave on the tip of Manhattan.

I’ve talked before about 9/11′s significance to my family. But now, just one year after that post, it is hitting me pretty hard. I’m sitting here with my son–Asher Harold. Harold for my grandfather–the man we put to rest on this day 8 years ago–and I keep blubbering like a baby. I miss him. I understand death. I understand that it is part of the process we call life. I also understand that his death left him in peace, whereas the end of his life was in pain and suffering.

I understand that.

But I’m still pissed. I’m pissed that he, and his wife, and my mother’s father didn’t get the chance to meet my son.
I’m pissed that so many people didn’t get to see their loved ones that night. I’m pissed that innocent men and women paid the price for someone’s ideology. I’m pissed that my brothers in service ran IN to a building to save people, only to never come out.

I keep struggling to find a way to just let it go. My emotions take a roller coaster thinking about it. I’m sad for the families who have had to suffer this great loss. I’m pissed at the men who thought this to be the only way to get their message out.

I don’t know what to say to any of them, but I think this is most appopriate for the victims families:

On behalf of the President of the United States and the people of a grateful nation, may I present this flag as a token of appreciation for the honorable and faithful service your loved one rendered this nation.


Sure, they weren’t “soldiers”. But they lost their lives because they lived on American Soil. They lost their lives on that principal alone.

My Grandfather was in the Army. Those words were said to my Grandmother with my Uncle by her side, his Navy Dress clean and crisp. Every time I hear them, or read them, or even think about them I get the same chill.

Today might not be about our troops… but we need to be better as a country and make EVERY day about our soldiers fighting on our behalf. They didn’t sign up to fight. They signed up out of pride. They signed up out of need. They signed up for a million reasons, but so very few people signed up because they want to go to war… So please, please take a minute to remember the fallen, and pray for those risking it all on daily basis.

Godspeed all. We miss you all.

We miss you grandpa.

Posted by on September 11, 2009 • Filed under: Coping, father, husband • Tagged: , ,

Faces.

6 comments

Deep inside every EMS professional is a storage bank. A file of faces, sounds, scene’s, and stories. A nightmare bank, you might call it. Imagery is my life. Before I wanted to be a medic, or a doctor, or a tank driver I wanted to be a photographer(I opted out because I wanted to make money! What was I thinking!!). I remember things by color, shape, texture and style.

I remember people by faces. Soft, pale, wrinkled, weathered, gray, bloated. Faces are my connection to the past.

** ** ***************** ** **

Week two of my internship. I’m very unsure of who I am. Of what I’m doing. I feel like every call I am doing something wrong. Everyone keeps dying. I know, I know. People die. Everyone dies. But up until this point I had never had someone die in my hands. I’m not sure I’m capable of doing this. I’ve just run back to back arrests and we’re en route to… my first ped’s code.

** ** ***************** ** **

I am trying to stay calm. I’m looking down at little hands. At tiny feet. I’m looking down but trying not to look. I’m trying to not look his face. 18 months old. EIGHTEEN FUCKING MONTHS OLD. I look up.

** ** ***************** ** **

I can’t figure out what is worse. Feeling such a tiny person squeeze in my hands, hearing the sound of BVM ventilations into tiny lungs, or looking up and seeing the man responsible for it all. We knew from the minute we walked in that this didn’t just happen. This baby boy didn’t just die. Healthy baby boy’s don’t just die. He was shaken. Violently. The back of his head had been pulverized like crab legs in a Pacific Northwest diner.

** ** ***************** ** **

I walked to the truck. My gear half gone, my heart missing, my soul crying. I sat there. Just waiting. My preceptor says to me… “sometimes it isn’t about them. Sometimes it is about us.” But this isn’t about me. This is about a little boy who will never see another birthday. Who didn’t get to see the fireworks, or the Christmas trees, or the fucking Easter Bunny. This is about a man so sick that he took the life of his own son.

** ** ***************** ** **

The nightmares come. The nightmares go. I remember very little about my patients. But a few of them have found a way deep into my soul. They keep me going. They make me work harder, think harder, try harder. The nightmare bank eats at you as time goes on. The only thing you can do is fight to push the nightmares out, and good days in.

** ** ***************** ** **

Now I sit here. I look at my boy. How sweet, how pure, how innocent. I have a hard time not putting the face of a little boy I met a little over a year ago. I didn’t know that boy’s name–and that saddens me. All he is to me is a face. I’ve found my peace, but he is still there. Do they ever go away?

Posted by on July 5, 2009 • Filed under: baby, Coping, FirstTime • Tagged: , ,

Life is Good

7 comments

I’m home with the boy and the wife today. Life is good. I love the new job and after the meeting with the medical director yesterday, I am cleared to start the FTO process.

This week I:
Delivered a baby
RSI’d a gonzo’d motorcycle driver
had Two cardiac arrests
coded a 9 day old baby
Provided lift assist to a 300 lb naked man in his shower. Ew.
made it home to see my family

Some good calls. Some bad calls. But, best of all… I’m running calls.

Godspeed, friends!

Posted by on June 26, 2009 • Filed under: Coping, Crazy Calls, medic • Tagged: , ,

medic(THREE)

3 comments

When www.medicthree.com started, a little over a year ago, it had a different meaning that it does today. Initially, I was Cheating Death: The Daily DOA. This is a plug from one of my medic school instructors “start your day with a doa, doo dah”.

You can still get to this site via www.dailydoa.blogspot.com. I then moved on to www.medicthree.com. I was Medic 3 at my last job. That was me. I responded to every call with my sign. But Medic 3 was not destined to be.

Now, I am medic 16(for the time being) and I couldn’t bring myself to change the blog title again(at that time… I did in fact change it 3 more times!!!) so I kept it. It actually messed me up a few times, as I’ve copied calls as medic 13 and not portable 16… Tends to confuse the dispatchers and my coworkers…

But now Medic Three means something else. It is about me. About who and

what I am now.

I am a Medic.

I am a Father.

I am a Husband.

All of these define me. No one of them does it alone.

I am medic(THREE).

The hardest parts of living this trio are leaving some parts behind and learning to use the combination as a tool. Being a father—albeit new—has already helped me on calls.

Being a medic has helped me at home with the boy. It helps me understand some of the little things about babies. About when they are sick, and when they aren’t. It has also been a detriment. When something is wrong… I know. I understand just how serious things are. When Grandpa was in his last days… I knew. I understand that some things aren’t as simple as we tend to lead others to believe.

Being a husband has taught me millions of things. From compassion and patience, to focus and understanding. My wife has taught me more things than I care to admit!

medic(THREE) is a growing album of who I am. Who I am is ever changing—fluid. Being me couldn’t be any better though. I love my work, though maybe not my place of work. I love my son. Unconditionally. I love my wife. With all of my heart.

Godspeed All… Hope to have some exciting news for you soon!

Posted by on June 6, 2009 • Filed under: Coping, father, husband, medic • Tagged: , , ,

When God Made Paramedics

3 comments
Reposted. Stolen. Don’t know where from. Always puts things a little in perspective.

When God Made Paramedics

When God made paramedics, He was into His sixth day of overtime. An angel appeared and said, “You’re doing a lot of fiddling around on this one.” God said, “Have you read the specs on this order?

A Paramedic has to be able to carry an injured person up a wet, grassy hill in the dark, dodge stray bullets to reach a dying child unarmed, enter homes the health inspector wouldn’t touch, and not wrinkle his uniform.”

“He has to be able to lift three times his own weight. Crawl into wrecked cars with barely enough room to move, and console a grieving mother as he is doing CPR on a baby he knows will never breathe again.”

“He has to be in top mental condition at all times, running on no sleep, black coffee and half-eaten meals, and he has to have six pairs of hands.”

The angel shook her head slowly and said, “Six pairs of hands…no way.” “It’s not the hands that are causing me problems,” God replied. “It’s the three pairs of eyes a medic has to have.” “That’s on the standard model?” asked the angel.

God nodded. “One pair that sees open sores as he’s drawing blood, always wondering if the patient is HIV positive.” (When he already knows and wishes he’d taken that accounting job) “Another pair here in the side of his head for his partner’s safety. And another pair of eyes here in front that can look reassuringly at a bleeding victim and say, “You’ll be alright ma’am when he knows it isn’t so.”

“Lord,” said the angel, touching His sleeve, “rest and work on this tomorrow.” “I can’t,” God replied. “I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound drunk out from behind a steering wheel without incident and feed a family of five on a private service paycheck.” The angel circled the model of the Paramedic very slowly. “Can it think?” she asked.

“You bet”, God said. “It can tell you the symptoms of 100 illnesses; recite drug calculations in it’s sleep; intubate, defibrillate, medicate, and continue CPR nonstop over terrain that any doctor would fear… and it still keeps it’s sense of humor.”

“This medic also has phenomenal personal control. He can deal with a multi-victim trauma, coax a frightened elderly person to unlock their door, comfort a murder victim’s family, and then read in the daily paper how Paramedics were unable to locate a house quickly enough, allowing the person to die. A house that had no street sign, no house numbers, no phone to call back.”

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the Paramedic.

“There’s a leak,” she pronounced. “I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model.” “That’s not a leak,” God replied, “It’s a tear.” “What’s the tear for?” asked the angel.

“It’s for bottled up emotions, for patients they’ve tried in vain to save, for commitment to that hope that they will make a difference in a person’s chance to survive, for life.” “You’re a genius!” said the angel.

God looked somber.

“I DIDN’T PUT IT THERE” He said.

–Author unknown

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Posted by on June 4, 2009 • Filed under: Coping • Tagged:

I hadn't planned on doing this…

5 comments

Really, I hadn’t. AD’s post was better than I could do… But I have to say something.
First, head over to Remember the Fallen. After I read AD’s post I did a little work on google and found that site. I browsed around and then I found the gallery.
It is full of heart wrenching photos.
This one got me.
With a son of my own, the fear of getting hurt–or worse–at work is ever present. The number of kids out there who have lost their mother, father, brother, sister, grandpa or grandma to war is growing. It hurts. I’m a grown man and I was blubbering like a baby.
It hurts.
May God have mercy on your souls.
God have Mercy.
Some Memorial Day Reads:
Posted by on May 25, 2009 • Filed under: Coping, father, Heart Strings, husband, medic • Tagged: , , , ,

What they don't tell you…

5 comments

When I first thought about getting into EMS I didn’t really know anyone in the field. I originally took the EMT-B course in 2003 during my freshman year of college. I didn’t try very hard, and ended up not bothering to take the NREMT exam. I spent some time working various political campaigns, moved a few thousand miles, and never looked back…

Until I did.

I looked back. Over, and over, and over. I couldn’t stop. Something about EMS just caught my eye. Not really “glory”. Because honestly, there isn’t much. EMT instructors are notorious for being negative. They always make everything seem sooooo bad. Something about people in this field leads to trying to make this career seem like it is the worst thing ever.

Honestly, while this career can be challenging–it ain’t that bad.

But what they DON’T tell you is just how boring it can be. How challenging your partners can be. How frustrating patients can be. How heartbreaking the “easy” calls can be. How hard it can be on your family. How much it changes you. Sure–people try. The old, rusty, haggard medic always tries to tell you these things… but there is no way to really figure it out until you are out here, on your own.

When new EMTs walk through our door and want the “truth” all I say is…. “hop in and see. Your perception of my world is going to be completely different that what I tell you. Jump in the seat and see how it feels. You’ll know after one or two calls whether you want this or not. But you HAVE to WANT it to keep going. When you stop wanting it–get the fuck out”.

So… To my readers–When you don’t want it anymore–move on. Shit happens, life goes on, and there are lots of different ways to make a buck–most of them easier.

Godspeed, all. Missed ya!

Posted by on May 25, 2009 • Filed under: Boredom, Coping, Life, medic • Tagged: , , ,

Apologies

3 comments
I’m sorry I made you guys come out here. I’m sorry I made you get out of bed. Sorry they had to bother you. Sorry you had to make such a fuss.
I’m sorry I got so drunk. I’m sorry I crashed my car. I’m sorry I faught the officer. I’m sorry I got my ass kicked.
I’m sorry I forgot to stop. I’m sorry I didn’t slow down. I’m sorry I got your amb’lance so dirty.
I’m sorry you had to see this. I’m sorry you had to come out here.
I’m sorry I puked on your shoes, man. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold it longer. I’m sorry about the smell.
I’m sorry about the mess. I’m sorry, my family just doesn’t understand.
I’m sorry about that kid, man. I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to get caught.
Tell them I’m sorry, about their kid, man. Dude, tell them I’m sorry about that kid.
Posted by on March 3, 2009 • Filed under: Coping • Tagged:

Code 4

4 comments

Little Ambulance, Code 4, Cardiac Arrest, 200 W House you’ve been 3 times in 40 days.

One of the hardest things about small town EMS is that inevitably you run on someone you know, or like today, you run on a “frequent flyer” for the last time.

She wasn’t the bad kind of frequent flyer though. She was the best patient I’ve ever had. Today was my third and last time giving her a ride.

Her husband will probably follow soon. Stage 4 Lung cancer, prostrate cancer, CHF. Like his wife, it will be too late before we even get there. They have no family close, so when he goes hopefully he isn’t all alone.

I   checked him out and tried to make sure he knew we were there for him before I left. I don’t think he heard a word we said.

May God Have Mercy On Your Soul. god have mercy.

Posted by on January 27, 2009 • Filed under: Code 4, Coping, FirstTime, Heart Strings • Tagged: , , ,

It started

8 comments

With Ninja Medic. Then Epi followed suit. 


Really about once a month one of my fellow EMS bloggers(and I’ve done this too) eludes to one of the many stories of terror that haunt our Nightmare Bank. 

There will always be a few memories of calls past that will NOT go away.

The irony for me is that tomorrow I am teaching a SIDS portion of our refresher as well as a Neonatal Care refresher. 

More than a few things are ironic about this:
  • My haunting pt is just a wee 18mo baby. Helpless. 
  • We talk about CISM(Critical Incident Stress Management) in both classes–how often do we actually use those tool? How many systems HAVE them?
  • I’m about to have a baby. A helpess baby. I know far more than I wish I did. 
Be safe out there, all. Godspeed. 
Posted by on January 24, 2009 • Filed under: baby, Coping, Heart Strings, Kids, Life, Pediatric, Stress, Wow. • Tagged: , , , , , , ,