Secondary Drowning

Now, I have been an EMT for a good many years, this makes me feel very ignorant.

You ever hear of a condition called Secondary Drowning? No? Me either. Leave it up to my English counterpart Tom at Random Acts of Reality to point it out.

Those damn Brits know their business I'll tell ya!

Z

'Tis the season for severe weather. Don't worry though, no matter what mother nature brings you, rest assured that you will be in the squad 50 miles from the station. You will be rocking back and forth like crazy and fearing that you will die in a pile of wreckage that used to be an ambulance.


Returning a patient to an ECF (nursing home) today I noticed nurses scrambling through halls squawking about a "tornado watch". They had every aide go into patient rooms and inform them of the situation and close the patients window drapes. I found this very interesting and being the person that I am, I stopped an aide I the hall and asked what was up. The aide replied to me in a very un-concerned voice... "Nurses have been informed that there is a tornado watch for the next few hours" I said: "Ya, so what's the business with closing the drapes?" He looks down the hall to be sure he wouldn't be over heard by said nurses. "I have no idea man, we used to have to cloths pin them together too, but someone stole the cloths pins. I guess they think the drapes will protect the residents from breaking glass and stuff " I found his remarks interesting to say the least and when were we're comfortably outside of the facility and back in the truck I looked to my partner and told her that they probably close the drapes so the old folks don't stare outside at the impending doom in the form of a funnel cloud. If all it takes are a few yards of fabric and some cloths pins to protect a person from a tornado, sign me up for home economics.


For those of you that may not be as familiar with emergency language during severe weather season I have broke it down barney style for you. I'm sure everyone can relate to a fart.


I'm eating all the wrong foods at all the wrong times, I don't exercise as much as I should and I'm stressed to the maximum load allowable without medication. This is Fart Season.

I'm sitting in the truck and we are on our third run. I haven't been able to take my morning constitutional this AM and I'm not very happy about it. I'm awake earlier than I want to be awake and all this bouncing around has got me a bit on the uncomfortable side. I know that it will be at least 30 minutes before I get back to the station. This is a Fart Watch. Conditions are right for massive gas, but nothing noticed yet.

The 4th run comes in and it's a doosey. I have to crawl under a car and try and extricate a 16 year old kid from some wreckage that used to be his car. I have the family screaming at me, the police would like information on the patient, my partner is pressing me like crazy to get this kid out so we can scream to the hospital. I get back to the station, sit down on the couch and take off my boots. The next thing you should be concerned about is.... This is a FART WARNING. Some mild soiling of the pants has already happened and there is sure to be more.


Z

Boom.... KA-BOOM

Well, as many of you know I'm the commander for a special division of where I work and from time to time we get the opportunity to attend new and interesting classes.

One of those classes is IRTB or "Incident response to Terrorist Bombing". Un fortunately for me I wont be able to attend this one due to scheduling conflicts and the fact that I still have a 2 day class to teach for about 20 of our employees on WMD and I haven't gotten that totally prepared yet. BUT, BUT, B U T.. If you get the chance to take this class please drop me a line and fill me in on all the particulars. It is held in New Mexico at New Mexico Tech.

The government pays for most of your expenses, including travel, food, lodging and rental car, all you would really have to provide would be some free time and willingness to learn about bombs. According the the paperwork I received you will be building and detonating explosives and studying the effect they have on different materials.

Keep in mind though, to a dog, you will smell like Osama after this class. Take pictures of the class, bring your paperwork as a carry on, have your certificate handy... These things might make your wait in security a little less stressing and keep good 'ol Johnny from cramming a finger up your butt and digging for C-4.

Z

Protocol VS. Scope of Practice

Here is something for you to wrap your head around.

You are called to transport Joe a 67 year old cancer pt to his radiation appointment.
The skinny on Joe is.

Throat Cancer
120 lbs
6' 3"
BP 110/70
Pulse 100
SP02 93% with trach o2 mask set at 4 lpm.
Non-communicative, has trach, requires frequent suctioning.

The catch to this senerio is your a basic crew and according to your company protocol you are not allowed to trach suction. Your "state" guidelines say you can, but your company protocol does not have a provision for it.

You are 20 minutes into your transport and Joe starts to grab at his trach site and he appears to be turning blue. You immediately contact your dispatcher and ask for an ALS intercept and head for the closest facility that can handle Joe.

Joe is breathing on his own, but it's very noisy and you can hear obvious obstructions with his airway. A yankur suction device is not doing the trick. Joe's SPO2 drops into the 80's, you are 15 minutes out of a hospital and your intercept is at least 10 minutes away.

The question I have for you is. Do you suction Joe as you have been trained by your state? This would go completely against your companies policy. Do you wait for your intercept and hope for the best?

You decide.

Z

New Look

I revamped the look of the blog today. Kind of an "Out with the old, in with the new" type of thing. I'm even considering adding another author or two to the writing so that the content wil be fresher than it has been lately. Give me a few days and I'll have the page counter back and all my links restored to their former glory.

Z

Comment Spam

It's late and rarely do I ever make more than 1 post in a 24 hour period but this is pissing me off.

You know, we blog as a sort of diary. It lets us get things off our chest and share with others who might be able to help with a kind word or a well deserved atta boy.

This business of spamming a bloggers comment box is complete horseshit. I spent the better part of 2 hours de-turding all the bogus comments on my board by people trying to sell me viagra or an online degree I can get in as little as 6 weeks with 900 dollars.

A blogger's face lights up when they see that they have a new board comment. To log in and see that it's just some bogus spam really brings me down.

I have turned on word verification on my comments... Sorry to everyone who wants to post a comment, because of a few asshats you now have to type the little word in the box to post.

Z

Grown Men Dont Cry

Ya! Sorry!

I know I havent written in forever. I honestly intend to write about once a week, something just comes up and I dont have the time or more pressing issues are before me.

I was talking to friend online about EMS today and it inspired me to fire up blogger and give it a whirl.

Things are much the same here, kids, job, bills, more bills... did I mention bills?

I got to thinking today about how desensitized we EMS providers get to violence and death. We like to laugh and joke, but seriously, have you ever taken the time to really reflect on the amount of suffering you see on a daily basis?

My father passed away about a month ago and it never hit me. I was sad, and I wanted to cry for my sons who were without a grandpa, but I never even thought about crying for myself... after all, GROWN MEN DONT CRY. I stayed strong for my boys, and I stayed strong for all the family that was there. Every one hugged me and said how sorry they were. Some were crying, some were not. I never even considered it, at least not in the sense a child would cry for the loss of a father.

We see death and violence on a daily basis.. we come back to the station and turn on the television and watch more while the crew fires up the BBQ and cooks lunch... we never give it a second thought. Sure a child hurt will rattle our cage, and the senseless death of a teenager by their own hand will disturb us, but when someone of "adult" age dies.. no matter what the cause, it's all in a days work. I'm thinking maybe this is wrong.

Maybe we dont push CISD enough (Critical Incident Strees Debriefing). Maybe because GROWN MEN DONT CRY, we dont press the issue of much needed mind flushing.

I think next week, when things calm dawn a bit with the kids and job and home life I might find a quiet place to cry for my dad, maybe in the garage where we used to work together so often. I dont want to go much longer without mourning the loss of a loved one. Come to think of it maybe I'll find time to cry the next time anyone loses a loved one, maybe that will remind me that even though it's all in a days work for me...lives are still shattered and some grown men cry.

Z

Wish You Could Know"

I wish you could know what it is like to search a burning bedroom for trapped children at 3 AM, flames rolling above your head, your palms and knees burning as you crawl, the floor sagging under your weight as the kitchen below you burns.

I wish you could comprehend a wife's horror at 6 in the morning as I check her husband of 40 years for a pulse and find none. I start CPR anyway, hoping to bring him back, knowing intuitively it is too late. But wanting his wife and family to know everything possible was done to try to save his life.

I wish you know the unique smell of burning insulation, the taste of soot-filled mucus, the feeling in intense heat through your turnout gear, the sound of flames crackling, the eeriness of being able to do absolutely nothing in dense smoke-sensations that I've become too familiar with.

I wish you could read my mind as I respond to a building fire "is this a false alarm or a working fire? How is the building constructed? What hazards await me? Is anyone trapped?" Or to call, ""What is wrong with the patient? Is it minor or life-threatening? Is the caller really in distress or is he waiting for us with a 2x4 or a gun?"

I wish you could be in the emergency room as a doctor pronounces dead the beautiful five-year old girl that I have been trying to save during the past 25 minutes. Who will never go on her first date or say the works, "I love you mommy & daddy" again.

I wish you could know the frustration I feel in the cab of the engine, squad car, or my personal vehicle, the driver with his foot pressing down hard on the pedal, my arm tugging again and again at the air horn chain, as you fail to yield the right-of-way at an intersection or in traffic. When you need us however, your first comment upon our arrival will be, "It took you forever to get here!"

I wish you could know my thoughts as I help extricate a girl of teenage years from the remains of her automobile. "What if this was my daughter, sister, my girlfriend, wife or my friend? What were her parent's reactions going to be when they opened the door to find a police officer with hat in hand?"

I wish you could know how it feels to walk in the back door and greet my parents and family, not having the heart to tell them that I nearly did not come back from the last call.

I wish you could know how it feels dispatching officers, firefighters and EMT's out and when we call for them and our heart drops because no one answers back or to hear a bone chilling 9-1-1 call of a child or wife needing assistance.

I wish you could feel the hurt as people verbally, and sometimes physically, abuse us or belittle what I do, or as they express their attitudes of "It will never happen to me".

I wish you could realize the physical, emotional and mental drain or missed meals, lost sleep and forgone social activities, in addition to all the tragedy my eyes have seen.

I wish you could know the brotherhood and self-satisfaction of helping save a life or preserving someone's property, or being able to be there in time of crisis, or creating order from total chaos.

I wish you could understand what it feels like to have a little boy tugging at your arm and asking, "Is Mommy okay?" not even being able to look in his eyes without tears from your own and not knowing what to say. Or to have to hold back a long time friend who watches his buddy having CPR done on him as they take him away in the Medic Unit. You know all along he did not have his seat belt on. A sensation that I have become too familiar with.

Unless you have lived with this kind of life, you will never truly understand or appreciate who I am, we are, or what our job really means to us...I wish you could though.

KEEP SENDING THIS ON. APPRECIATE AND SUPPORT THE LOCAL EMS WORKERS, 9-1-1 DISPATCHERS, FIREFIGHTERS, LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICERS, AND DOCTORS & NURSES IN YOUR AREA. ONE DAY THEY'LL PROBABLY BE SAVING YOUR PROPERTY OR YOUR OWN LIFE. WHEN YOU SEE THEM COMING WITH LIGHTS FLASHING, MOVE OUT OF THE WAY QUICKLY, THEN PRAY FOR THEM.

--AUTHOR UNKNOWN

Board Troll

I would not be a good host unless I informed all of you that there are a few blog trolls about on this board.

As a result of people with little minds having nothing better to do than post anoymous comments on my blog I have decided to make the comments section registered users only.

Yes, I fully realize that these trolls can just make fake names and still post. That being said, they will have to work just a little harder to do so. Anything that makes it more difficult for a troll is seen as FINE in my book.

These trolls (well one of them) also works for the spelling police. Please use spell check in all further comment postings. I would hate for any of you to have to deal with a heafty ticket for not using the english language to it's fullest scale.

(lol)

Z

30 Somethings ...

In the last week the newspaper has sent my head spinning. I don't know why I bother to pick it up anymore.

3 of my highschool classmates have died of heart related problems. All within the same general age of me. I'm freaked out.

I have clothes to buy and funerals to attend. I have hands to hold and a game face to put on.

At work last night I had my partner hook me up to the 12 lead, RSR. Well that's good, but I'm still making an appt. to see my doc. I'm glad I quit smoking last year and I eat more chicken now then beef. It seems like everything I like to do will only make my children be without their father quicker.

I look at the police officers on the street now and many of them are 5 years younger then me. When did I get old? Or when did they get so young?

I am glad that I'm older though, because if I had to wear my pants falling off my ass and constantly hold on tho them as I walk, I'm afraid I wouldn't get much done.

Whats wrong with kids today? No respect, no responsibility?

Ya I know these were some rambling thoughts today... cut me some slack. I'm not doing real well with the 30 somethings dying on me.

Z