I worked a 12-hour shift last week and was busy. I have to think a bit to remember what I did — nothing that required going to the hospital lights and sirens.
Two hot humid day triggered asthmas who got breathing treatments and solumedrol.
An abd pain in a patient with dementia who felt better with IV Tylenol.
A woman with abnormal labs who had her blood drawn the previous day and then got a call to tell her she needed to go to the ED. She had no complaints and was walking around her apartment when we got there, plopped herself right down on the stretcher, been through this before she said.
Two welfare checks at police scenes where we basically had to take refusals on patients who weren’t really hurt at all. A minor with a cut lip and an assault victim who had the assaulter’s blood on her (He’d cut his hand on glass.)
A woman vomiting for a day, who denied smoking weed even though she reeked of it. (She possibly had cannabis hyperemesis syndrome).
A man with suicidal thoughts but no plan.
And a long distance transfer for a patient with chest pain, who slept the whole trip. We at least got out of town for a little while and were able to hit a Mexican food truck on the way back. I got three soft shell tacos (on barbacoa, one carnitas, and one al pastor) for just $6 and they were fantastic.
We had our triage delays at the hospital on a couple of the calls. At one we had to wait for 30 minutes until they could find us a bed. (In the meantime, they did their 10 minute ECG on our stretcher). The other delay there were four stretchers waiting ahead of us, and then a patient in sudden respiratory arrest came in so we had to understandably wait a little longer.
There have been times in the past, when patients or nurses or situations have angered me, but on most days now, I take it in stride. I was short with no one.
In between calls, in one hospital EMS room, I talked to a couple long-time medics, one I hadn’t seen for years (he’d been doing medic work in far flung places including the Ukraine), who just had taken a fire-medic job, and another who said he was retiring in three months and getting ready to move to upstate New York. Good guys both. I went into the other hospital’s EMS room later in the day where there were eight EMTs, none I’d ever seen before, all excitedly talking EMS talk, from smack about triage nurses to would you believe crazy calls they’d been on. I felt like a ghost walking past them, like I was walking past myself 30 years ago.
I was glad when the day was over and grateful I’d made it through the shift with only one stair chair carry down and that was only out the front door and down the porch steps. And in all the calls I never had to get down on the floor to treat anyone. Never had to have anyone offer me a hand to get back up. No one vomited on me and I didn’t have to deal with any physical shit other than smelling it once in a nursing home hallway. The only physical pain I felt was briefly in my back when while treating a patient, we hit a pot hole and I got thrown up in the air just a little bit. I swore under my breath, and then I was fine.
After I punched out (only 15 minutes late) I went home and cooked some hamburgers and then sat out in the backyard with my wife and listened to music and had a couple beers that I brewed myself. (Not bad, a Hazy New England IPA and a Lime Lager).
I say all this as a preface to my thoughts on a memoir I am reading by an ex-paramedic that I am having trouble getting through. It is not that it isn’t well written (much of the writing is vivid) or the stories don’t ring true (they will be familiar to anyone who has worked EMS for any length of time). I think it’s that at this late stage in my career, a book that so accurately (and at times angrily) describes the work conditions and debasing situations that many in EMS face depresses me.
It’s like when I have a partner who bitches all day. I end up bitching right along and it puts me in a bad mood and I don’t like myself or the job. I much prefer partners who are upbeat and unphased.
I agree with the writer. Sure the work conditions can be hard–posting on street corners, sometimes not having time to eat, physical deterioration over the years, unappreciative patients, rude ED nurses, low pay, getting thrown to fight COVID with inadequate personnel protective equipment (etc. etc.). All of that is true. And I have bitched about it and at times, have written about it.
But I don’t feel like a victim. I love my job. I would have quit years ago if I didn’t. Life isn’t roses every day, and if you expect it to be, you will be disappointed. When I come home from work, I feel like I’ve lived a full day. 30 years of paramedic work is a full life. The things I’ve seen, the emotions I’ve felt, the friends I’ve made, the great take-out food I’ve eaten. What a journey!
And aside from a couple weeks earlier in my career with a small mom and pop ambulance service, the paycheck has always been good at the bank.
I wouldn’t have traded EMS for any other job or calling.
If you want a million dollars or a medal, do something else. If you want satisfaction and a life well lived,. EMS might be for you.