Thursday, April 23, 2009

Bacon and doughnuts . . .

They say you are what you eat. I think I'm screwed. Enter yesterday's post shift "debriefing session" held at the local courthouse eatery before grand jury.
"Sorry to detour the conversation, but I just wanted to let you all know this is delicious bacon."
"Huh?"
"Seriously. Amazing. Bacon."
"Woman what is wrong with you? You just downed bacon, eggs, toast, oj, biscuits and gravy and some form of grits. Are you pregnant?"
"My duty belt is a 30", do I look pregnant? No, I'm not."
"Your eating a damn doughnut too?!?"
"Yes. You're interrupting my moment of doughnut zen. Zip it."
"You're going to be in a food coma during testimony."

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

The North American Emergency Response Guidebook . . .and you

Are you good with primary colors? Can you locate information in a table? Are you smarter than the book itself? Congratulations! You too can operate the Emergency Response Guidebook!!
Ugh. That was definitely eight hours of my life in the academy I want back. NIMS and HAZ-MAT was boring enough the first time around in the fire service. Only four more to go . . .

"Do you know what the best indicator at a Haz-Mat scene is?"
"No."
"A cop. Send him in with a flare. If he drops over or blows up it's not safe."

(Sorry MotorCop and all my brothers and sisters out there . . . but I couldn't resist.)

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Bad days . . .

When I was hired on as a firefighter my chief told me, there will be hard days. When I took the National Registry for EMT class, my instructors told me there will be horrible calls. When I took my oath to serve my county as a deputy, my FTO told me you will see things no one should ever see.
As I sit here at work, I dedicate my shift tonight to a friend of mine. I cannot express in words what needs to be said.

I love you, be safe.

May the Lord bless and protect you all.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Innocent chlidren . . . .

Everybody has walked in that squad call and said "bullshit" to themselves. Not the kind of bs where the patient is faking it, but the kind where the story has nothing to do with the injuries. Unfortunately, when you get that story and it doesn't meet the injuries on a child, it can indicate abuse.
Case in point. 3am. Dispatched for 60 year old male with wrist injury in one of our sections of town you shut off your lights and siren a block away to avoid getting mobbed or assaulted.
Upon arrival find that dispatch apparently was out to lunch, and that the patient is a 6 year old male with rib injuries. (Slightly different.)
Mom says family dog jumped on child, causing him injury. There are no red marks, no claw marks, no paw prints, toys, food bowls, hair or dog anywhere to be found. After several disturbing minutes onscene, I carry our patient down four flights of stairs outside. Let me just tell you that in light of the rest of this call, that made my week. Nothing will ever make you feel like you've earned your pay and you are useful in life like a child. This sweet, sweet little innocent child climbed up in my arms and stayed there. It was a perfect moment in EMS. For about 30 seconds. Until we ask the kid what the dog's name is, and he doesn't answer. And he really isn't clinging to mom, he's clinging to me. And he's in allot of pain for this kind of injury, and now he says it hurts to breathe.
Turned over care to the ED staff with all the information we had. No dog anywhere in the apartment. Scared child in pain. Apathetic mom who's only concern was we weren't going to bill her and make her pay us money. Luckily the doc we drew is also our SWAT medic. He was not born last night. After the CT scan showed internal injuries he called the police. No dog does that, even if you had one to begin with.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Math . . .

The quote of the week when it comes to math problems.

"How did you get that answer?"
"Push equal."

Nice.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Traffic . . . again.

So as much as I love our little traffic enforcement officers, my other half included, it gets old in the academy. Don't get me wrong, but . . .

"You know what traffic reconstructionists are? The chess team of the police department. Nerds."

"Wait . . . what are we taking the square root of again? The drag factor is what? How do you know that? What the hell? If I wanted to do this shit I would have taught math."

You all should know I'm only making fun of you because I'm not good at it . . .

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

That's not me . . . or my brother

So for all of you who remember this post, here is a fantastic follow up piece. I must warn you, the stupidity will probably make your brain hurt.
This guy comes in for a THIRD time. He lies about his name AGAIN. At this point I'm tired, cranky and just want to eat my damn Twix bar in peace. But, no. Special kid here thinks that for some reason, since I was the officer to call his bluff last time, that he will attempt to lie to me again. Communication skills went directly out the window. There was no get out of jail free card, just "Pass Go and Do Not Collect $200."
I print out his real name, his alias, and all the booking photos I have of him. I slam all of this down on the counter with the polite response of, "Are you f*ing serious?"
"That's not me."
"Oh, really? Let me guess. That's your twin brother."
"Uh . . . no. I've never seen those two guys before."
"Really? Because they're the same damn person. YOU!!!"
"No, that' s someone completely different."
"Seriously?"

I hate stupid people.