I had just left the locker room at the fitness center and was standing at the information desk when a man ran out of the men’s room and said, “Somebody call 911, he’s having a heart attack!”
Now I hate these situations. I am in “plainclothes.” I am anonymous, yet I carry a card that says I am a licensed paramedic. I have a certain duty to act, yet at the same time, I have a duty to not get in the way because legally even though I am a paramedic, unless I am working, I am not a part of the 911 system, so I am not even a first responder, I am just a bystander. Consequently, I rarely stop at auto accidents, or even announce my presence at medical scenes I happen upon — unless it looks like someone is in dire straights. Most of the time I can eyeball it and see that it is really not a big deal.
When I had just become an EMT I stopped at a crash on the highway, and found a woman who’s face had hit the windshield. While she was conscious, she was quite shaken up and badly bruised. I stayed with her until the police arrived. I told the state trooper I was an EMT, he said, “Big fucking deal! So am I,” and pushed right past me.
Now whenever I happen to get involved in something, I give a quick report to the first responder, and then excuse myself, unless they need me. I also, whenever I respond, make certain to acknowledge and thank anyone — EMT, doctor, nurse or layperson — who is with the patient and has something to tell me.
No one stepped forward and seeing the panic in the eyes of the female staff person on duty who was fumbling to dial 911, I walked back in to the locker room to check it out. I saw a man in the shower now sitting on a chair, surrounded by several people. He looked okay. He was young, healthy-looking. I remembered him from the sauna. He’d been in there before I’d gotten in and was still there when I’d left. I guessed he’d probably overheated himself.
“Keep back, keep back, give him space, give him space,” one naked man in the shower, assuming the role of general, announced to those looking on.
The man, although pale, looked in no serious distress so I went back out and told the female staff person he appeared all right, he wasn’t dying just then, but to keep 911 coming so they could check him out. “Yes, he’s concious,” she said to the operator.
Just then another man came out of the locker room and shouted, “Hey, where’s that ambulance? He’s bad, he’s really bad!”
I told the staff person I’d go in and sit with him, which I did. He said he was okay now. He’d just gotten dizzy. I tried to ask who had seen him pass out and whether he hit his head. One man — who I heard later from the medic was a doctor — said “I don’t know. He passed out three times. He has to go to the hospital. Don’t let him get up.”
I sat there and wrote out a little info sheet to give to the crew when they got there — name, DOB, meds, allergies, address.
Then in came the cops — the first responders. I introduced myself and gave a quick report. The officer nodded, looked at the man and asked “Are you a diabetic?”
“No meds, no history,” I said again. “He had a syncopal episode. He’d been in the sauna. He’s probably dehydrated.” The cop nodded and then asked the man “What happened?”
A few minutes later the fire department came in — also first responders. I handed them my notes, gave a quick report, and then excused myself while they started taking vitals.
Out in the lobby, everything was back to normal, people checking in at the membership desk, buying drinks from the juice bar, reading the announcements on the bulletin board. I saw the ambulance crew coming in on my way out of the place. I knew the crew and gave them a quick report.
It was interesting seeing the incident from the other side. The bystanders reactions, the panic, and then the progressive waves of responders, and a gradual sense of calm. My first EMT instructor used to say the emergency ends when you arrive. I can see that. The public doesn’t know if someone is dying or not. They call 911 and wait anxiously. 911 arrives and life goes back to normal.