http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-wxPnJlJoFo

Dave Statter has provided the youtube link to this video…

If you have been hiding under a rock up to this point, head over to STATter911 for a full update on this.

I only have one question. Why did the medic exit the ambulance right away when the dumb ass Oklahoma Highway Patrolman pulled up behind them?

Further, vengeance is a piss poor tool for LEO’s to use when deciding who to pull over. How many times does a cop have somone “fail to yield”? Does he freak out and pull every one over? How often do motorists Fail to yield to ambulances? I think we should be authorized to do the PIT manuver on vehicles that take longer than 3 seconds to yield.

An ego can be a dangerous thing.

Sources:
STATter911
Rogue Medic

I have some great partners. I’ve also got some really, really crappy partners. Some of them just know what to do. Others need me to hold their hands while they take a crap. Some just can not figure out what being a partner means.

So……

A partner is:

-A friend who shares a common interest or participates in achieving a common goal

-A member of an intimate relationship

-A member of a partnership

-A business partner

-Partner (business rank), a member of a law firm or accounting firm which is formed as a partnership; sometimes senior employees of the firm may have the title "partner" (e.g., "salaried partner") to indicate a profit sharing status; salaried partners are distinguished from equity partners, who own the business.

-A participant in a partner dance

Things partners should NOT do…

-Throw you under the bus every chance they get

-Use you in a piss poor attempt to further their own careers

-Kiss your ass after doing so

-Ask you for favors after doing so

-expect you to do them favors after doing so

-expect me to NOT give them a reciprocal bus-throwing-under

-Expect me to NOT succeed and leave you bloodied in a ditch off a dirt road in Idaho.

Seriously. When the oldest person at your station is the most immature, idiotic, and pigheaded dumb ass staff member, you know you’re in a ginormous cluster fuck…

Oh, and some things you should not try to tell me that you are "allergic" to:

-Epi. Seriously? You’re adrenal glands are going to have to disagree

-Sugar. Specifically Glucose. You’re fucking kidding me, right?

-Ammonia? You do understand the difference between an allergy and a hypersensitivity? You get that NO ONE likes how breathing in ammonia makes you feel…

-Right?

-PS… since you are allergic to ammonia, sugar, and epi… what would you like me to do about your "allergic reaction" now that you are in anaphylactic shock? Fucking black magic?

-If you are allergic to sugar why are you drinking a humongo gas station Reese’s Capafrapasugarladencino?

The pediatric dose of Benadryl would actually give you MORE Benadryl than the adult dose… based on weight. F-tard(that is me restraining myself.)

How in the HELL did one small company with 8 full time employees end up with a concentration of 3(THREE) people with the same set of nearly impossible allergies? 

You are a walking, crazy talking, plumb fucking nuts train wreck.

We don’t do many Psych transfers here. My particular county requires a Mental Health board to meet to place someone on an involuntary hold. Not many people come to the local ED to commit themselves…. While on Internship I did so many 72 hour holds it wasn’t even funny(no seriously… it wasn’t). 

So… Took my CBT exam today. Walked out feeling like a huge moron. There were questions I just absolutely didn’t expect. Even worse… the whole “choose the MOST correct answer” bullshit just riles me up. You aren’t choosing the CORRECT answer. You are choosing the MOST correct answer. The answer is often not the one that I would chose to do in the field.

Computer Adaptive Testing(CAT) also makes judging your performance on the test very difficult. Unlike a written test in class, this test will either get easier or harder, depending on how big of a moron you are.

Whatever. I’m pissed, anxious, and preparing myself for the reality that I might have to retest. Hopefully I’ll have something to tell you tomorrow. I’m well on my way to being my own Psych patient.

“You’re a stupid bastard! You Stupid Bastard! You’re just a government cronie!”

This was how the trip to the ED of my LAST call of internship started. We found Mr. Happy Pants sleeping ON the street with his head on the curb. A rather busy street at that. Oh, and by “sleeping” I mean passed out. Drunk as a Skunk. Bombed. Inebriated.

Yeah. So he wasn’t happy. Being the cautious young moron that I am, I yelled at him when we rolled up. Blew the air horn. Just trying to raise him. Not wanting to walk up to him and shake him awake… since waking drunks that way never ends well. Finally he got up–as PD rolled up, 2 squads, both with new recruits. New officers are fun. They have a certain “gung ho” attitude that can’t be matched.

They jumped into it. One grabbed his arm, “helping” him stand. The other went digging for the wallet. Well, this didn’t please our newly found friend and he went swinging. Remember how I said the new recruits were gung ho… Well, they swung back. As I said before, it didn’t end well.

They go through the ropes, cuff him, shove him in a car, deal with his non-sense… Then say “Detox is closed…. They’re all full. You guys wanna take him to ‘specials’?” Um… Do I have a choice at this point. So I go over to the car, and start talking to him. He’s being rather pleasant to me, since I’m one of the few people who hasn’t done anything to make him feel worse. Offer to help him and tell him he’s going to for a ride in the wambulance. He’s ecstatic. Till he sees the restraints.

Yup. 4 pt restraints… And my favorite friend was handy–the pillow case. Get him down(with the help of my over zealous friends) and on our way we go. We refuse the PD escort since our sleepy pal’s ability to fight is nill with his limbs secured.

As soon as the doors to the truck close it starts. “You’re a stupid bastard! You Stupid Bastard! You’re just a government cronie!”

On, and on, and on, and on. Just repeating versions of the same lovely phrase. But I have to do an assessment, don’t I? So I go into it, SAMPLE, blah blah blah. And then the fun starts. I ask if he has any pain anywhere at all. Rather quick for his level intoxication, he responds quickly with “yup. Yeah. I’ve got a gigantic pain in my ass! You. You are just a pain in my ass!”

So, beings that we’ve identified a new source of pain for him I feel it is important to identify the severity of said pain… “Sir, on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the worst pain imaginable, what would you rate this pain in your ass?”

“10. You stupid bastard.”

EMS is one of the few career paths where other peoples’ misery makes our day interesting. As a matter of fact, it is pretty much essential to making our days complete. If we have boring calls, we are bored. Some of us are Trauma Junkies. Some love medical calls. Me, I like crazy people. Crazy people–I can relate to them. I’m just a few clicks from being off the rocker myself so crazy people are easy for me. Plus, you can mess with them…

Today we ended our shift(literally.. we were pulling into the garage and got toned out… again) with a “psych pt on the freeway”). Yes. ON the FREEWAY. Get your attention?

Apparently our lovely 22 year old passenger had fled(ran away aimlessly) from her group home(I love group homes. They supply 40%(made up statistic) of our patients. Most of them who need an ambulance about as much as I need a meth addiction.

This girl was mildly MR, but not bad. She had some depression, which is commonly associated with mild MR young adults. She said she had thought about killing herself–this was as close to a suicide gesture as she had ever made, and I’m not so sure it was intentional. None the less, she earned herself a 72 hour stay at one of the “finest” mental health facilities in the region. By finest I mean understaffed and overworked. They aren’t bright either–their ambulance garage is 500ft of winding hallway away from the ED.

Here’s where the fun starts. She states that she is 5 months preggers and due in LATE SEPTEMBER. Wait…. I looked at my preceptor, and casually asked him: “Is my math ok?” He looks up. “You’re a friggin’ math genius”. Yup… seems that our pt has planned to carry her twins–or was it quints–a few months extra. Yup. You’re nuts.

She was also the primary care provider to 3 young children from her friend who died in a car accident–or did she kill herself? Anyways. Somehow I’m not so sure that the group home has room for the 3 youngins. Whatev. I love a good story.

At least she has an excuse. Better than the uppity people we pick up who act like they weren’t drinking when then rammed that innocent pole.

Anyways–enough about crazies… more about Craziness.

Our first call of the day was for “one down, with burns”. We hear ‘one down’ as CARDIAC ARREST. Not so much. She wasn’t burned either, but that’s neither here nor there.

Apparently our mid-forties pt had just had lunch with her friends and a nice eatery in one of the burbs. She had got into her car, started to leave and apparently lost control of the car, hit a parked car… and her foot was still on the gas. This caused the front wheels to keep going till the point of starting on fire and thus where the “burns” I mentioned earlier came into play.

A bystander punched out the window(only to get himself a trip to the ED too) and pulled her out after turning off the car.

PD and FD arrived on scene about 7 minutes before us. One of our medics just happened to be at the restaurant too. He stated her BP was 240/120, she was posturing and had lost control of her bladder. Her friends said she complained of a headache.

Upon our arrival she was no longer posturing, but her BP was still 200/100. This is a scoop and go. She responds barely to painful stimuli. Not looking good.

En Route we start two 16′s, monitor, 12 lead, blood sugar, pulse ox, blah, blah, blah. I keep trying to talk to her, occasionally getting a little grunt. 10 minutes into our transfer she starts responding with coherent phrases. Appropriate too.

She can tell me she has had a head ache for a week. She has been taking Aspirin every day for it–shit. She doesn’t remember what happened at all. She can tell me everything before it happened though.

10 minutes ago I had a tube out and ready to go, and now she is holding a bucket and wants to puke. Who woulda thunk.

At that point I was dumbfounded. She presented like a classic bleed. Her history presented that way too. But bleeds don’t wake on their own. They don’t just get better.

Wrong. Her CT showed an 11mm ACA Aneurysm near her pituitary gland. WTF. They planned on going in and coiling it(spring to open the vessel).

Yup, one of those days.

So Today was a day that I can bet won’t ever repeat itself. At least that’s what I’m hoping.

It was really a pretty slow day. 8 hrs, 4 calls, nothing serious–well, that depends on your definition of serious. Calls 1&2 were run of the mill.
Calls 3&4… Well, they make me wanna hurl.

Dispatched code 3 to an Elementary School–on a psych. 11 year old girl who wanted to kill herself. She has made suicide gestures, had a plan(posted on myspace.com) and was very, very depressed. She’s FUCKING 11 YEARS OLD! What the hell is going on here? What happened to 11 year old girls playing dress up, house, reading cute books with pink covers and harassing little neighborhood boys?

To make it better, Dad(the sperm donor) could care less and wouldn’t be coming to the Hospital. Mom–well, she’s in prison–obviously more part of the problem than the solution.

Her aunt is the only one who seems to care enough to come… So she’s getting checked into a Pediatric Psych unit on a Mental Health Hold and she’s all by herself. Why do I see this ending badly. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or next month. Eventually though the system will be done failing her and One of us will get to scrape her off the floor somewhere.

Absolutely disgusting.

Call 4. Code 2, same god damn school. Apparently they have a hold on the niche for kids with overwhelming psychiatric issues.

This one is 10. Yeah, that’s right. 10 god damn years old. He is “diagnosed” (by an overwhelmed, over-eager family practice Doctor, no doubt–not a psychologist or psychiatrist(Don’t get me wrong. I love doctors. They are smarter than me. But Family Practice doctors have as much business diagnosing and treating mental illness as I have treating cancer)) with ADHD and Oppositional Defiant Disorder(my fav… so he doesn’t like authority… find me a kid who DOES).

He decided teacher was pissing him off, so he kicked, screamed, bit, clawed, spit and threw a chair at him. Then the principal. Then PD.

I told him he had to go with one of us. Either with us in the ambulance with cool toys or the Police car with Handcuffs and a spit hood. He calmed down(like most people do when confronted with this situation) and walked out with us. Mom was no where to be found. She is an aide at another school in the district and was on a “personal” day. PD and school staff tried to locate her at home, friends, family. No luck.

One of the more memorable parts of that call–asking if he knew what meds he took. Benedryl. Every night. What could that be for?!?!?! Hmm…. Good Night.

What are our kids being thrown into psych facilities so often now? Case 1 was legit. She needed help. Case 2 needed parents who actually parented. We are failing our kids. We’re failing the future. I’m actually scared out of my mind about it.

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