No, I am not poison control . . .

One of our frequent fliers calls 911. We get called out for "an overdose on unknown substance." Nice, so it could be bleach or Tums. Upon arrival we find our resident system abuser who says this: "Why are you here?" Behind me I can barely make out my engineer whisper, "I was wondering the same thing."

FF: "I called poison control"
Me: "No, you called 911."
FF: "Well yeah, but that was because I wanted the number to poison control."
Me: "That's what 411 is for, not 911."
FF: "No, 411 is information not poison control, everyone knows that"
Me: "Clearly not."
FF: "So are you going to do your job and give me the number?"
Me: "Did you take something you think is dangerous?"
FF: "No, I wanted to see if this pill my girlfriend gave me is really a Vicodin."
Me: "Right. Go back in the house before I call the cops."

Pain in the . . . oh, you know.

Actual dispatch: "Respond to the front of the city administration building for a female down in the lawn complaining of pain in the rectum and buttocks."
No one moved for the truck for a good second. "Are we getting punked?" "Is this the cops' idea of a joke?" "Is this a joke from our union negotiators?"

Oh no. Actual call.

Pain was not secondary to a fall, a bowel movement, heavy lifting or anything else we could find. May have been secondary to sitting on concrete for awhile down at the city park? Who knows, my medic's assessment provided no magical insight.
"Do you want transported to the ER?"
"No."
"Seriously? Then why did you call 911?" (She was in fact the original caller)
"I want an aspirin."
At this point my Captain looks like he might strangle someone.
"SEE THAT BIG SIGN THAT SAYS 'Walgreen's' AT THE END OF THE BLOCK?!"
"Yeah."
"THEY SELL ASPIRIN."
"I called you out here, I want you to do something. I'm not buying a whole bottle."
"We're leaving."

Public safety partners quiz . . .

Take the following quiz and give yourself a point for every answer you can say "yes" to:
(The partner can be your husband/wife/significant other/or your work partners)

You've ever been hung up on preceded by any of the following statements:
a. We've got a run.
b. I've got a call.
c. Some dumbass just about took off the front of my cruiser.
d. I've got to go help this unit/person.
e. WHAT THE F*CK WAS THAT?!

You've ever been the last one in the restaurant of your party and ever had to say:
a. They're on duty, they have a call.
b. Sorry, we're on call.
c. Could we have that to go?

You've ever been woken up to a phone call that starts:
a. Did you know I had court?
b. What are you doing right now? (Extra point if the answer has ever been, "SLEEPING.")
c. I forgot something, can you bring it to work?

You are perfectly comfortable with long silences in phone conversations due to:
a. Someone running a tag.
b. Answering the radio.
c. The other person typing/eating/yelling loudly at traffic.

Any of the following is in your personal vehicle/work vehicle:
a. Disposable gloves.
b. Extra handcuff keys/handcuffs
c. Extra uniform parts.
d. Anything your partner has had to move off of their seat and rolled their eyes about.

More than five? Congratulations, and welcome to the edge of reality.

Uncommon criminals and other myths . . .

This is starting to be my new least favorite line from new prisoners: "I'm not a common criminal, quit treating me like one!" Guess what? I treat everyone who comes through my doors the same. Just because you've never been to the county jail does not mean you're special. You have to follow the same rules as everyone else. Sorry. I don't care if you're innocent, that's the court's problem. Don't complain it's not fair that you have to go through the same processing as the girl we've arrested five times for prostitution. Five times this month.

Landfill fires are not "cool" they are not "a training opportunity" or anything else you might try to make them. They suck. The last one took me two months to get the stench off of everything I own. Let's just call a spade a spade . . . it's flaming garbage.

You can not answer medical assessment questions during an actual seizure. If you are faking however, you definitely can. Try harder, we're like American Idol, we've seen it all.

Bring in the cot . . . and apparently the spinal immobilization devices

During one of those nights at work where you swear the clock has gone backwards at least twice, I get this call from my control room officer. "Uh, can you go back into the infirmary? I'm pretty sure they have a problem back there." Not good.


I find one of our jail medics with a female having a possible stroke. After notifying one of the on-duty supervisors and the control room we prepare for transport to the hospital. Five minutes later the supervisor calls me on the radio. "Can you bring her down to receiving?"
"Uh. No."
"Do you need the fire department to bring you anything?"

"A cot would be nice."

They arrive. With splints and a c-collar.
"Do you guys know something we don't know?"
"What do you mean?"
"This is a possible stroke."
"Yeah, your Sgt. definitely just told us we needed to bring the c-collar."
"No. The cot. Cot, c-collar, similar but no."

Sometimes I think I'm talking to myself at work . . .

What you do matters . . .

Recently, I was in one of those annoying funks where you're fairly certain your supervisor wouldn't pay attention to you if you were on fire. Then amazing things happed. I wrote a memo. Someone read that memo, and, wait for it . . .

DID SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

I think I'll be in a good mood for the rest of winter now. Sometimes that's all you need, a shot in the arm of "What you do matters."

So for all of you out there with the winter blahs, what you do matters. Thank you.

For every CO that's ever been spit on, for every cop that's ever done their best and still got complained on, for every 2am call EMS has responded to for an earache and for every "structure fire" that's a tiki torch; thank you for what you do.



BROTHERHOOD

Amazing . . .

Sometimes I feel like this is my life. The only warning I give is there is some bad language, and remember this is a joke. I don't want any nurses coming after me with pitchforks and torches.

Firefighter vs. Nursing Home
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6yRpnkPlzg

Why did you have to go and do a thing like that . . .

It has been awhile. I did not think the following was appropriate to post during the holidays. I think it needs to be said though.

Every time someone brings up that our profession has one of the highest rates of suicide, you might think: "Not our department. Not my friends. Not here. Maybe some department 500 miles away of people I don't know."

And then one day someone wakes you out of a dead sleep and sends you flying headfirst out of your little land of denial. It is your department. He was your friend. You do know him, his family and all of the co workers. You spend about two weeks wrestling the question that won't leave: "What the hell did I miss?" Along with a few others. "Why didn't he talk to me?" "What could I have done?"

Eventually you start to understand that it was their choice that they made. Maybe you'll always have those questions unanswered.

If you find yourself in that deep dark place that you cannot escape . . . please, I beg you, come talk to me. Please. Please talk to me.

BROTHERHOOD

Finding Jesus in a bottle of pills and other not so good endeavors . . .

So it's been awhile since I've got to share something worthwhile on here (not that I'm entirely sure any of the following qualifies). Call it writer's block. Or, as my partner in psych pointed out this evening, call it "we're pretty sure not too much shocks us any more." That being said . . .

A girl takes an indeterminate amount of unknown pills. After her ER visit, and various other medical adventures, she arrives at our jail. She proceeds to tell us she has found Jesus. Wonderful. In the pills. Ok, maybe not so good. Apparently we are all going to hell, (according to my partner, not news). We are evil, Godless souls ect. Then she pulls down her pants and presses parts of her anatomy I don't need to see against the cell window. Nice. I don't think Jesus was impressed . . .

Don't decide to eat something that's inedible as a quick way to the hospital. Especially if that something is a bolt, or a pencil, or anything else your mom taught you not to put in your mouth. It will not end well. Trust us.

I had to write a medical report that made my Sgt. call me and say, "I never want to read another report containing 'foul smelling discharge from the vaginal area' again." Sorry, the medical department told me we had to document it. Next time I guess I'll have to put a disclaimer on my reports.

Do not think that the best course of action after rolling a tanker truck (commercial not firefighting) is to get out and walk around. Please, please let us backboard you. You're making me nervous . . .

Please do not eat razor blades . . . see the earlier disclaimer about bad ends.

Never underestimate how short of a fuse your partner may have after his/her beloved NFL team of choice gets beaten.

Say, "Hey, I love you . . ."

I spent my shift the other night working the control room catching up with two good friends also working the main control room. Best shift in a long time. Never underestimate the power a kind word or a smile will have on someone. Always stop and chat with a friend if you have time. Call somebody having a slow night when that hour between 23o and 330 seems like it will never end.

Say "Hey, I love you . . ."

Pay it forward friends. I had the privilege of being at the right place at the right time a few days ago in our courthouse for a medical emergency. He's actually someone I know quite well. You can make a difference. Don't let the politics and the cynicism get you down . . . it's hard I know. But trust me, it's worth it.

Geodon speed loaders and other things I'd like to see . . .

These are a collection of "I wish they really made that" products from my various coworkers.

From the SWAT doc of a major city: "Geodon speed loaders. Walk in the room, shoot one in the patient and two in the family. Everybody is suddenly happy. Thunk, thunk. Maybe in blow gun form . . ."

From our jail doc: "Prozac in aerosol form. Definitely."

From my shift commander: "Disposable uniforms. This is my second pair of pants today."

From my probie: "Scented N95 respirators, I hate the plastic smell."

From my fire Lt: "Biohazard bags large enough to wrap a patient in, or plastic wrap with that printed on it. Sometimes the hospital deserves to know what they're getting into."

From my intake partner: "Febreeze for humans . . ."

Ideas? Feel free to share . . .

Miranda angina and other things not to teach your kids . . .

Apparently there is a small percentage of my coworkers that has the same mentality of a five year old. And by small percentage, I mean roughly half.
Much like small children you should not say things around them that you don't want repeated. An all time favorite squad "diagnosis" after calls is "Miranda angina." For the non-public safety people out there let me translate; allergic to arrest. The chest pain has an onset directly after arrest or shortly after arrival at a correctional facility. I wish I could take credit for how amusing that phrase is. I cannot. It belongs to "Words that should be in the EMS dictionary but aren't." A favorite column of mine in JEMS that disappeared.
Enter me sharing this with a few co-workers at the jail. Then imagine my surprise and sudden panic attack upon seeing it written IN A REPORT. What the hell?! I immediately called the misguided officer who typed said report, and told him that was probably not appropriate in a legal document. His argument? "It's in quotes, so it's funny."
Thank God he did not quote me.

It's a joke people. Enjoy it. Try not to get us all fired in the process though . . . There's some things you should just keep to yourself.

I remember . . . Never Forget

This morning as I enjoy the quiet darkness of my neighborhood, I only ask one thing of you today. To say a prayer for those who we lost, those who survive and those who are serving.

The FDNY's 343, the men and women of the NYPD and PAPD. The countless emergency service workers who served at Ground Zero, the Pentagon and in that Pennsylvania field.

Your men and women of the armed services who fight for our country. Those who have come home, those who will never come home. KIA, MIA, POW, you are not forgotten.

For those who wear memorial bracelets, and permanent scars on their hearts.

"Let's raise a glass to those that have passed / Raise them for the finest that we knew / Going Home's been played / And the pipes all put away / Let's hear it for the boys and girls in blue"
- The Moonshiners, Boys and Girls in Blue

No you do not have swine flu . . .

As I've mentioned in some of my earlier posts, my department happens to serve the campus of a fairly large university. Apparently, since there have been multiple confirmed cases of swine flu; everybody and their brother thinks they have it.
Case in point: Our squad is dispatched to "female ill" in one of the academic buildings. Of course we are eating lunch, so the engine proceeds to laugh their asses off at us as we leave. Upon arrival we find a girl in the fetal position in the hallway. Assessment reveals vertigo, weakness, nausea, abdominal cramps and the last oral intake was yesterday. Hmmm. My assessment sixth sense along with my law enforcement bullshit meter kicks in. "When was your last menstrual period?" "Uh, right now. Started this morning." Hmmm. "You don't think this is related?" "No, I'm pretty sure I have swine flu."
Are you f'ing serious? (No, I did not say that out loud.)
No fever, chills, sweats or anything else. ER result? Menstrual cramps . . . How 'bout that shit?

Shift Log . . .

Sorry about the delay in posts . . . took the parents on a trip and took my first vacation from the SO in two years. Still on vacation from another week or so, spending most of it picking up extra shifts at the FD. We have a new probie, and she is fantastic. I wish I had caught on so quick . . .
So today's shift has gone two different ways today, depending on who you ask. I had a great time with the probie and my buddy back from when we both worked for rural volunteer departments. The shift commander however, is throwing a fit. We hadn't even hit the twelve hour mark yet and we had already knocked out seven calls. Car v. pedestrian, several fire alarms and two calls to two different trailers . . . for the the same patient. Mix all of this with five or six commercial fire inspections and lunch and we have stayed busy most of the day.

Speaking of fire inspections, here's a professional tip to all of you. The place to store paint is NOT on the shelf beside the fireplace. Yes, we found this. Also the thing NOT to say to the fire inspector is that; "That is the most fucking ridiculous thing I've ever heard of. Why do my fire extinguishers have to be in plain sight in my business. They're ugly. Besides it's not like it's going to catch on fire." WTF?

Protip to all of you college kids on bicycles out there, courtesy of our truck crew and your local police. You have to follow all the same traffic laws as a car in this state. Yes, that means YOU. And if you don't, don't cry when my friends ticket you or cite you in an accident. Also, do not tell the cop, "How the hell am I supposed to know that? It's not like anybody tells you!" Just a suggestion, you might want to go look at that driver's ed book you largely ignored . . . just saying.

So we've got that going for us . . . which is nice

So after I posted about wanting a quiet night at the firehouse, God laughed at me.

At two in the morning, the power went out to half the city. Followed by the inevitable alarm drops. Followed by a man calling 911 because his air conditioning won't work; because we have no power. Seriously. I can't make this stuff up.

My friend in the comm center texted me with this. "I cannot believe how many f'ing people call the police when the power goes out. Like I freakin know when it will come back on."

Literally all the the comm center did was tell people to call the electric company. Who then argued with the comm center about how they'd been on hold with said electric company for twenty minutes. As if the police department knows who does and who does not have power.

And then we had the "male hallucinating with violent behavior" call. Direct quote from him: "I have done Ecstasy before, and this does not feel like Ecstasy." As if Ecstasy is regulated by the FDA . . .

I love my job.

Things they never told you about . . .

Call me crazy but I definitely don't remember this scenario being covered in my EMT class. We get dispatched to our favorite state park, because the squad covering it is busy. . .again. By now even the new guy is starting to realize that calls to this place come with their own person brand of craziness.
We arrive for what was dispatched as female in seizures. What we find is a female diabetic who reads 14 on our glucometer. The better part? You know those fifth wheel travel trailers with the bed that is over the hitch? The ones you have to climb up to that have about 3 feet of head room? Yeah. That's where she is. Not to mention it looks like they've packed enough stuff for two months in the wilderness in this camper. I actually think it would have been easier to unpack the trailer and unload her than take her out on the backboard.
We succeeded . . . now we're all headed to the chiropractor.

Really? . . . I mean, really?

So as a nice addition to this post we have the following. A friend of mine parked his cruiser sideways across a two lane road at an injury accident. We landed a medical helicopter in the field beyond. Someone drives around three other cruisers, our fire department staff car, a rescue truck and a tow truck to ask him a question. The question?

"Can you move your cruiser so I can get through?"

As my Sgt. would say, "What are the odds?"

True friends . . .

How to know someone in public safety is really friends with you:
"I would give you CPR without a mask."

The Great Outdoors . . .and you

So perhaps if one was to go camping in say, the woods, at a state park. And one was to wake up with say, itching of the arms and legs. Does this warrant a call to 911?
Yes, apparently. (Did I mention you're camping?)
I'm not a doctor people, but our crew and two rangers took a straw poll. Answer?
Poison ivy. As evidenced by tiny blisters/redness.Thanks for that 300 am squad call. Especially since it's mutual aid for us because the park is packed and squads are tied up on other things. (Alcohol related, I know all of you are shocked.)
Even better? The participants of this fine 911 call already had experienced prior contact with the rangers. Why? Because they were irate no pizza business would deliver back into the primitive camping section of the park . . .