While searching my email account for something else today I found my answer, archived for posterity by the fine folks at Yahoo Mail.
It gave me a chuckle. I left MegaHospital EMS not even a year ago but already I'd started becoming nostalgic for the job.
Not every shift involved so many inebriated or sad patients, but every shift involved at least a few of each.
This email was a nice reminder that it wasn't all wine and roses.
When you read this, keep in mind that there are guys and gals who've lived like this for 10, 15, even 20+ years, and yet are able to practice Paramedicine at a high level.
My hat's off to them. I can't think of many tougher ways to make a living!
"So it's almost 3 a.m., which is when my shift ends.
Here's what tonight was like for me at [MegaHospital EMS]:
Here's what tonight was like for me at [MegaHospital EMS]:
Arrive at 5 pm, get narc keys, radio and perform quick check of truck.
Attempt to get dinner but am immediately sent out to pick up a drunk instead.
Try to get dinner three more times but am sent out for two drunks and a psych.
Eat cold, slimy slice of what I think is spinach and feta pizza at Worcester Med.
Listen as two other trucks get sent out on a code and pedi respiratory arrest.
I do LB instead, the world's most notorious drunk.
Watch four minutes of the Red Sox, go for the psych.
Then get sent to a code that turns out to be a long-dead drug dealer (complete with video camera monitoring system of his entire street) who sampled too many of his own wares.
Spend 45 minutes there, get to enjoy full metal familial meltdown when the dead guy's entire family shows up to profess their grief at 1,000 decibels, although judging from the pharmaceutical paraphernalia and stacks of cash being inventoried by the cops, this outcome can hardly have been a surprise.
Go out for two more drunks.
Try to get midnight snack, instead help an attractive, 18-year-old mildly drunk girl into her brother's car for a ride back to the 'burbs and the comfort of mommy and daddy's glorious McMansion.
She grabs my ass twice and pukes on my boots, so kind of a mixed blessing there.
We then take a well-known psych who's hearing voices that seem to sound EXACTLY like mine, then win the Double Jeopardy round by getting sent out for the person both drunk AND psych.
Top off the shift by breaking up a fight in the middle of Main Street between two drunk personages of Caribbean descent apparently angry with each other's driving habits.
Dinner never achieved.
Currently 42 hours with less than 4 hours sleep total.
Total caloric intake: One slimy piece of pizza, species unknown, believed to be vegetable. One Baby Ruth. One Snickers. Seven cans Diet Coke. One oatmeal creme cookie. Four Graham crackers and a jello stolen from the nourishment center at [MegaHosptal].
I come for the glory, I stay for the pampering........"
Attempt to get dinner but am immediately sent out to pick up a drunk instead.
Try to get dinner three more times but am sent out for two drunks and a psych.
Eat cold, slimy slice of what I think is spinach and feta pizza at Worcester Med.
Listen as two other trucks get sent out on a code and pedi respiratory arrest.
I do LB instead, the world's most notorious drunk.
Watch four minutes of the Red Sox, go for the psych.
Then get sent to a code that turns out to be a long-dead drug dealer (complete with video camera monitoring system of his entire street) who sampled too many of his own wares.
Spend 45 minutes there, get to enjoy full metal familial meltdown when the dead guy's entire family shows up to profess their grief at 1,000 decibels, although judging from the pharmaceutical paraphernalia and stacks of cash being inventoried by the cops, this outcome can hardly have been a surprise.
Go out for two more drunks.
Try to get midnight snack, instead help an attractive, 18-year-old mildly drunk girl into her brother's car for a ride back to the 'burbs and the comfort of mommy and daddy's glorious McMansion.
She grabs my ass twice and pukes on my boots, so kind of a mixed blessing there.
We then take a well-known psych who's hearing voices that seem to sound EXACTLY like mine, then win the Double Jeopardy round by getting sent out for the person both drunk AND psych.
Top off the shift by breaking up a fight in the middle of Main Street between two drunk personages of Caribbean descent apparently angry with each other's driving habits.
Dinner never achieved.
Currently 42 hours with less than 4 hours sleep total.
Total caloric intake: One slimy piece of pizza, species unknown, believed to be vegetable. One Baby Ruth. One Snickers. Seven cans Diet Coke. One oatmeal creme cookie. Four Graham crackers and a jello stolen from the nourishment center at [MegaHosptal].
I come for the glory, I stay for the pampering........"
1 comment:
"This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure" Queen
Preach it!
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