Friday, March 13, 2009

Perhaps this would be a good time to fake my own death . . .

Sigh. I think I should get colored plastic cards on a key ring to hold up at various times. Here, let me explain. The red card would be the "bullshit" card. As in, "You are NOT having a seizure, you're faking it. I call bullshit." The green card would be, "You can take it from here." You know, when your partner is on a roll with a patient or prisoner and you're loving it. The yellow card would be the "DANGER WILL ROBINSON!!" This is for people not smart enough to realize the patient/prisoner/supervisor is going to KILL them if they don't STFU. The final card, the black "card of death" would represent the point of no return. This card would mean that the atmosphere is now so completely polluted with stupidity there are only two choices. One, slap the person unconscious. Two, fake your own death.

Useful in many situations in all professions . . .

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Saw drunk . . . arrested same

I have been hearing this line now for two years. I never got it until the other night. "Buck Savage" and the Arizona Department of Public Safety have now enlightened me.
I get it now boys, I get it.

Now if we could only write, "Saw stupidity in progress . . . arrested same."

Please sir may I have another . . .

Wow. I keep forgetting that the downfall of being proactive in the jail is ALOT of court overtime and very little sleep. I just got my paperwork for two cases this week. One involves me finding schedule one drugs on someone during a search and one involves me stopping an assault on my partner. Fun times.
All you veteran road cops and disgruntled firefighter/medics with two hours of sleep today and six cups of coffee are rolling your eyes. I know, I know. "Damn kids. Been there done that. Just wait until you're out of the jail. . ." Except I want to be whiny for a second. Between getting off of work in the morning and getting to the academy before four or so, I get NO sleep. And court is going to take forever . . .
Ok. I'm done. I'll suck it up and stop whining.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

That's my twin brother . . .

So here's a tip for all of you. If you're going to lie about your identity, don't get brought to the same jail that booked you in the last time. And if you feel the need to do that, don't lie to the same officer that booked you in. If you choose to ignore that fine warning; own up to your lies when I confront you.
I walked out into the receiving sallyport to do a transport and saw the state police with their prisoner. I looked right at the cop and said, "He's been here before." The prisoner gets this deer in the headlights look and goes, "Who me?" No, the cop. The cop is like, "Are you sure?" No, I'm lying to you.
Long story short as soon as our "alleged" lawbreaker tells the cop his "name" I call bullshit. I thought about it for a minute, ran a master search, and pulled up his actual name. I then printed a nice five by seven booking shot, handed it to the state cop and went "Are you sure that's his name you just wrote on your paperwork?"
Needless to say I kind of ruined their night. They don't like getting shown up by corrections officers, especially girls. In the photo are several distinctive scars and marks. The prisoner's explanation? Wait for it, wait for it . . .

"That's my twin brother." That's the best thing you can come up with? Seriously? When asked how his brother would have gotten the same scars in the same places . . . "We're twins, we were born with them . . ."

The definition of what is NOT an emergency . . .

Please, this is a PSA on what you should NOT call 911 for.

1. An earache when you have a cold, and the ER is four blocks away.

2. Chronic knee pain you have had for more than five years . . . in the middle of a snow storm that has knocked out the utilities and dumped more than a foot of snow.

3. To have the fire department change the light bulb in your oven. (Actual call, no joke)

4. An anxiety attack you had two hours ago and are over, when you have a history of anxiety.

5. To ask why your smoke detector is beeping intermittently. (Hint: Change the battery)

6. To ask what that strange sound is. (The water softener going through its cycles)(Also not a joke, actual call)

7. Because you think you might have any of the following: flu, cold, sinus infection . . .

8. For a cut or abrasion that I have to ask you where it is becuase I don't see it on my initial survey . . . because it's that small. And it quit bleeding before you called.

9. Because your DOG had a seizure.

10. Because your neighbors' lawn clippings are on your driveway . . .

CEUs are overrated and other myths . . .

And by overrated I mean I would have gotten a heck of alot more sleep had I remembered to turn in my crap, er continuing education, to the department of public safety. But no, I had to do it the hard way. My reward? Three hours of sleep yesterday before four hours of police academy and eight hours of work. I'm just now going to bed today and I'm getting up at 2:45. This should end well.
Never mess with the department of public safety. You could end up taking a firefighting exam on stuff you haven't seen in five or so years. But I got an 80%. So chief isn't going to kill me. Yet. This shift at least. Thank God all my EMS stuff is current . . .

Tuesday, March 10, 2009


For some reason when people call for a medic in the jail on the radio they feel the need to scream like someone is dying. Occassionally this is the case, the other ninety eight percent of the time it is not. Screaming "MEDIC!!" on the radio because some inmate just told you the toothache they've had for seven days is still hurting, is not warranted. I guess this just annoys me because I work on a squad and I have a little clearer picture of what is and is not imminent death. My fellow corrections officers however, may need a little bit of a first aid refresher.
The medics employed in the jail have come to realize that if I call for a medic, someone is dying. Some of these guys work on neighboring departments, so we're pretty good about working with each other. They've also come to realize if they need a spare pair of hands during a jail incident, that I can be sort of useful.
Case in point: chest pain during tray pass. I was a "floater" amongst housing units yesterday (this morning, whatever) providing breaks, doing transports and general gopher work. I was monitoring med pass with the medics to assure no insulin needles went AWOL when we heard the dreaded "death call." "MEDIC!!" After a lengthy radio conversation, it was determined I would go with one medic to the other end of the jail for "chest pain" while the other medics did med pass. Upon arrival we found a male in his early thirties with chest pain. Not especially troubling except for the prior history of cardiac problems and surgery. Crap.
So since he's maximum security I shackle him, bellyband him and transport him to the medical housing unit with the medic. After vitals were taken, 12 lead performed and all the other stuff completed the jail doc came in. General consensus? Call a squad. Great. The city fire department already hates us, and they had already been there twice that night and once to another facility. Just before the squad gets there one of the medics who is my friend goes to start an IV. The guy flips out and then passes out. Nice. And urinates all over. Even better. So by the time the guys from the bus roll in with their buddies from the truck, this guy looks like he's at death's door.
The medic and I just look at each other. The guys from the squad are like, "Wow. He's pale, diaphoretic, non-responsive and he's urinated." Well, yes and no.

Let's remember one key point . . . you called me.

I used to think that this phenomenon was restricted only to college dorms, however recent events has clearly proven it is not. One of my all time favorite things is when you roll up with the truck behind you and maybe a cop or three . . . and no one knows why you are there. No one. There are random people milling about, perhaps a small crowd and no caller. Just alot of blank stares when multiple uniformed personnel start asking, "So who called? What's the problem? Who's hurt?" It's either feast or famine. Either forty five freakin' people are flagging you down like you're trying to land on a storm tossed aircraft carrier, or you hear NOTHING. And usually you're getting flagged down to the painfully obvious; like the fully involved structure at 1400 hrs with smoke showing for miles. Thanks. Saw it. From seven blocks away.
This is becoming more and more common when we get dispatched to the "possible intoxicated subject lying on the ground." It's also becoming annoying in those gigantic apartment complexes that have letters for building names. Oh, and those letters are NEVER clearly marked but that's a post for another day about fire alarms and poor landscaping.
So let's return to the title. Let's not forget YOU called ME. I'm not psychic. You need to tell me why I'm here. And where you are.