Monday, July 27, 2009

Clinical Details

So there I was, about to have lunch with all the paramedics I was gonna be working with. We had just placed our order when the tone went off. The two para's I rode over with stood up, so I went with them. As we start rolling towards the accident, I hear the dispatch come on announcing the accident. Motorcycle vs. Car. Motorcycle rarely wins those. So as we roll, I put on gloves and pull the bag out of the locker so I can have everything ready to go when they stop.
We stop and I get out and hand the para his bag and go over to the patient and grab his head to immobilize him. All that's visible of his knee is bone shards sticking thru his flesh, and then I look down at his feet. His right leg is out of the boot and I can see the bottom of his foot when I should be seeing at the top.After the lead Para cuts his jeans I can see that the whole lower half of his leg is in an S shape. NOT GOOD! So we vacuum splint him, back board and call for life flight. He has a broken pelvis, shattered lower right leg and foot, and a broken and torn knee. He had only had his Harley for 2 months and went to wide in the corner, bounced off the front of a truck, and crashed in the ditch. So we transported him to the LZ and loaded him off to Life Flight, which was awesome. In fact my only embarrassed moment came when we were putting him on the life flight stretcher. They just slide it under the backboard, so we were gonna have to lift him up. I forgot that the person at the head of the stretcher controls the count. Guess where I was standing? I'm waiting to lift and look up and see eight pair of eyes staring at me and trying not to laugh, so I rushed thru the 123, lift.
We found out later from a ER nurse at the hospital where he went, that he also had a small tear in the Aortic artery and that the surgeons were unable to save his foot. He was not a young man.

Second call was a lesson in the entitlement mindset that will break any national health care that the a-holes in Washington might pass. 32 year old welfare/ disability king. Had blood in his catheter so he demanded that a helicopter be waiting to transport him to Big City Hospital because he didn't want to ride that far in an ambulance and, I quote, "All the doctors around this town are a bunch of dumbass faggots". Had a med list that read like a junkie's wet dream. He was stoned as hell and alternated from hitting on the female Para to regaling us with tales of how hard his life had been. One foot didn't work, got shot in the back for no reason when he was young( Later we learned he was shot in the back while running away from the drug dealer he had just robbed), missing a testicle, Blah, Blah, Blah... I later told the para's that if we pluck out an eye we could name him lucky. Funniest part was trying not to laugh as the Para tried to question him and stoned boy would go off on tangents.

Third call was Mama's boy. Thought he might have eaten peanuts and said he was allergic to em. His wife drove him to the station and we evaluated him for thirty min. No reaction but he wanted us to take him to the hospital in the ambulance "Just in case" . The hospital was a 1/2 mile away.

The last two didn't bother me a bit because I was still so happy to be a part of the team that helped save the first call. THAT is what I want to do. I know every call won't feel as good. I know there is a lot of drudgery and bullshit like the entitlement king. But, if I can get that one call where I can be of true help then all the rest of it is worth it to me.

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