I don't know if it's the unusually mild winter, something in the water, or stronger than normal waves of absurdity sweeping through Kansas that are affecting people, but I'd like it to stop, please.
Yesterday seemed to get off to a normal start. That is rarely, if ever, a good omen. I apparently NEED to drop my coffee cup, forget my pen, miss a turn, or something equally inconvenient to generate a reasonably "normal" day at work. None of that happened yesterday, so other stuff did.
Right after lunch, we had some training on our new scheduling program. It's web based, and (Unusually for a web based ANYTHING.) looks like it's actually going to be a substantial improvement over the system we currently use. It's even user friendly. No problem there. Then we get a call for a subject unresponsive behind the wheel of an SUV. Normally, this type of call is nothing. It's usually called in by some well meaning passer by that sees a car on the side of the road, with the driver's head down. About eight times out of ten, it's nothing. Normally, it's a driver that pulled over to read a text, make a phone call, or pick up a dropped item. When you're driving past, a guy digging for a cell phone looks a whole lot like a guy passed out. Those drivers are usually gone by the time we get there, so we spend a few minutes driving around looking for them, then call it "No Patient found", and go back to the station. It's a pain, but helps us pad our number of calls, which is useful come budget time. The ninth time, the driver actually has a legitimate medical emergency, most commonly low blood sugar. If you're lucky, they knew it was coming on, and managed to pull over and park safely before they passed out. As long as the doors aren't locked, no sweat. Get them out, toss 'em on the cot, go to the ambulance, put in an IV, a little dextrose and some saline, and presto! All better. Or it's something that actually needs a trip to the hospital. That's kinda what we do, so we can handle that, too. Same deal- cot, ambulance, IV, EKG, drive. Piece of cake.
Number Ten, on the other hand, can range from nothing, to entertaining, to being a huge pain in the ass. Yesterday's was entertaining. We pull up to see an SUV nose to the curb, back end hanging out into the street. It had been seen by a city street repair crew driving erratically, and when the police got there, it was still in gear. (Reverse, to be exact.) The driver was over the wheel and out cold. Just after noon, so I'm thinking blood sugar. When we got there, the driver was awake, and apparently totally normal. Vitals good, blood sugar good, want to go to the hospital? No? Great. Sign here. The officers will be right with you. We were blocked in, and there really wasn't room to to a 96 point turn around, so we sat there and watched the rest of the show. The cops drew a straight line on the street, and place the driver at one end of it. Horizontal gaze nystagmus gives us a thumbs up. Intoxicated. Now for the straight line test. Ideally, the suspect takes nine steps, turns around, and takes nine steps back to start. Not our driver. Seven steps. Pause. Sixteen more steps. Turn around. A hundred or so little bitty steps trying not to fall down on the way back. Busted. The driver opted for a breath test rather than blood. Blew a .22 in the field. You get arrested at .08. Buh-bye. Dumbass.
The rest of the afternoon was training time. I got to cut a giant hole in a school bus, so that was good. A little strange breaking a sweat and overheating on February 1, but this winter has been anything but normal, so I called it business as usual. Until evening, anyway.
This was an example of why the most frequently asked question by EMS providers is usually "WTF?"
To start, a transfer call comes out. Normally, it would have been my station's turn to take the transfer, but this one came out as a STEMI. (That's an "ST Elevation Myocardial Infarction" for you non-medical readers. It's a heart attack with EKG changes, and those are one of the very few types of calls that we take seriously 100% of the time.) that means the closest unit takes it, and since Station 1 is just across the parking lot from the ER, they got it. That meant that a few minutes later, I got the call for - you guessed it- a driver unresponsive and groaning. I sense a theme. So, off we go. On the way there, we were told that an officer was on scene with our patient. That changes things, because someone has actually stopped and tried to talk to the patient. This one could be real. Our scene was just outside of town, so it took us a while to get there. While we were responding, a call for a fall came out. We run a lot of those, no big deal. Except for the fact that we only have three ambulances staffed at any given time, so now we were down to none. Sure hope nobody else gets sick for an hour or so. We pull up on our scene. WTF? There are like six cop cars here. And isn't that the drug guy? This is gonna be good. We pile out, grab our portable gear, and start walking in time to see the drug guy walking another guy in handcuffs up to the ambulance. Clearly, NOT unconscious. Get in. What's going on? Guy tells us "I'm fine." OK. The detective tells us he got caught with a big bag of weed, and when they got him out of the car, fell down and was groaning. Remember this, kids. If you want us to believe you're actually sick, try to get that way BEFORE you get arrested. It's more convincing. Guy is in baggy jeans, sleeveless t-shirt over a wifebeater, and a puffy down coat. It's 40 degrees out. I'm in a sweatshirt under my flight suit, and slightly too warm. Oh look, it's an Ed Hardy t-shirt. We're at a 10.5 on the Douchebag-O-Meter now. The guy tells us he smoked a bunch of weed, but he's fine, and doesn't want to go to the hospital. Vital signs are good, so no real reason to take him. I hate to tell him, but I think he got ripped off on his weed. He smells like burning lawn clippings, not pot. The legendary Midwest Ditchweed strikes again. Marijuana does, in fact, grow wild around here. It is definitely NOT high quality. I don't know why people insist on smoking it. The county sprays it with herbicide when it's found, so it's not exactly something you want to suck into your lungs. The last time I checked, Roundup didn't qualify as an intoxicant, you know? Besides, it's not like getting real weed is exactly difficult. If you're gonna smoke dope, I don't really care. Just buy the non-toxic stuff, and stay home, OK?
So we clear the scene. The transfer is rolling, and the boss is on scene at the fall. And calling for a helicopter. WTF? Being the nice guy, I get on the phone and call a helicopter. The ambulance coming for the fall was responding from the far north end of the county, so we're thinking we might need to light it up and head to the scene. Nope, Medic 4 is on scene. Cool. And then the unit taking the transfer comes over the air. "Code blue." WTF? They pull over to work the code and grab one of the volunteer first responders to ride with them. Much radio traffic later, they go back en route. Code Red, so that's a win in the books.
Just another day at the office.
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