Poor Choices

When given the ability to choose between two choices some people just aren't that good at making the right decision. Take, for example, my patient named Julia (yes, I made up that name).

We were called to Julia's house because she had overdosed on sleeping pills. Outside we noticed that her boyfriend was sitting on the curb with standard issue police bracelets on. One of the officers told us our patient was in the back bedroom.

We found Julia crumpled on the floor unable to carry a conversation much less the weight of her own body. On the small of her back was a tattoo that said "Mario's property." Her boyfriend outside was Robert.

After some questioning it became apparent that Julia had taken her grandfathers sleeping pills (he has been dead for more than 2 years) the night before. The boyfriend decided to let her sleep it off. The only reason 911 had been called at all is that her parole officer stopped by for an unannounced visit.

We carried Julia out to the gurney and sent her on her way. I'm sure in a few hours she'll be back making stellar choices. A few of which are sure to involve EMS.

Come on. Seriously?

Just before two in the morning the tones went off. As the computer voice rattled off the address my my mind immediately recalled who lived there. It was one of our frequent flyers. In fact, he had just called 911 the morning before.

We walked up to the apartment and found the door open. Just inside, sitting on the stairs, was my patient.

I said hi to Joe (age 31) and asked why he called tonight. He said that he had a fever of 100.7 and that he had been feeling sick for 2 days. I probed a little further. He had had some nausea and vomited a couple of times. He also had a cough.

About this time his girlfriend appeared at the top of the stairs. She had been feeling the same way for several days but was now on the mend. She had gone to her personal physician who had told her to drink lots of fluids and get some rest. And to take some OTC medications to alleviate some of the symptoms.

So basically, they had the flu. I tried to explain what they would do in the ER (blood draws, possible a chest x-ray and then send them home with the same orders as the private doctor) in hopes that he would change his mind about going to the hospital. It didn't work. Instead he jumped up on the gurney and started moaning about all the aches and pains in his body.

Calling 911 for a mild flu? When you're 31? Really? Come on.

Ever Wanted To Hang Your BC?

Ever wanted to hang your BC? We did. I mean we hung him. Not that we really wanted to.....at least not then.

At my department we have drills periodically assigned to us to complete as a company. Some of them are engine drills. Others are truck drills. The purpose of these drills is to ensure that we are staying on top of our game. That way (in theory), when the time comes, we will be able to perform. And each of these events are timed.

On this particular day we were tasked with setting up the aerial ladder for a high pick point rescue. That is to say that we are practicing using the tip of the aerial ladder as a point from which we can raise someone. It doesn't really matter from where (for all you rescue gods out there I know that's not entirely true but I'm simplifying things).

So with my BC and DC (division chief, aka my BC's boss) watching we set everything up. Everything went off without a hitch. While we set things up we talked about how, with more resources, things would be different like having a dedicated safety officer.

Once we had the rope system in place to lower a rescuer to the victim my BC asked us to set up to raise the victim and the rescuer. This involved setting up another anchor point and building a 3:1 mechanical advantage. During the time that we were setting things up my BC donned a harness. Once we were ready he gave us the order to lift him.

We got him about 10 feet in the air and it suddenly became really tempting to lock him in place and go to Starbucks. Fortunately for him none of us wanted him hung.

Well That's A Fine How Do You Do.

I'm back in the saddle again. My finger is no where near finished healing but it's good enough for me to return to full duty. And the call gods welcomed me back as only they can.

It was close to the end of the day. I jumped in the shower to get the sweat, dirt, grime and whatever else off of me before going to bed. I had just started to shampoo my hair when I heard sirens.

Crap.

A PD unit went screaming by the station code 3. Then another. And another. I immediately knew that we were going to be getting a call.

I hurriedly finished lathering up my hair and started to rinse off trying to beat the dispatcher. I just knew that she was just waiting for the computer aided dispatch system to tell her who to ring down. When it did.......dang it......too late.

While the automated lady gave the address of the medical emergency I jumped out of the shower. I threw on my clothes as best I could while still dripping. In less than 90 seconds I was downstairs sliding into my seat in the back of the rig.

Getting caught by a call while showering is one of those unpleasant experiences that few people outside of first responders will ever get to experience. It sucks. But it's fun to laugh at afterward. It's even more fun to laugh at the other guy on the crew when he gets caught.

Since you probably want to know, the call was for a 20 year old kid that decided to chug a bottle of aspirin. Not too smart. We provide a chaser for something like that. Activated charcoal. And it tastes every bit as horrible as it sounds.

Like A Good Neighbor

The tones interrupted the morning check. We would be responding with whatever the previous crew left us. Thankfully their good about leaving things high and tight. We were responding with 3 engines, a rescue and a battalion chief for the report of a smoke coming from a neighbors house. The call was in the next district over but that crew was already out on a medical call. We were going to be first due.

Arriving on scene we saw very faint wisps of white smoke trailing over the backyard fence. My captain reported that truck 51 was on scene, very light smoke showing, and that we were investigating. While he was doing that I jumped off the rig and grabbed my Irons. I immediately headed for the side gate and then onto the backyard.

Once there I nearly scared an 80 year old woman to death. The poor woman was mowing her lawn and had, as a result, not heard the fire truck approach. As she finished her current pass of the yard she turned and saw me. She was understandably startled.

After the initial jolt and subsequent laugh she asked why we were there. I told her that someone had called 911 because of the large amounts of smoke that her lawn mower was putting off.

Having determined the cause of the smoke my captain canceled the balance of the call. I chatted a little more with the lady and found out she added too much oil to her fuel. Since the mower still ran on the rich gasoline she just went on cutting the grass. She never imagined that someone might call 911 on her.

Thank goodness for good neighbors that watch out for each other. Even if they do call 911 on the occasional lawn mower.