I was looking through some old posts today, reading some comments I never saw because the post are so old and I found this gem of a comment. I love it for last two lines.
Anonymous said...
It's 2 in the morning. I am looking for information on croup. My 3 year old has it bad. Trying to decide if we should go to the hospital. Stuck his head in the ice-box. Kinda helped. He's in bed now calmer but kind of wheezy. Scary, don't like it. His name is Joe. He likes ambulances too.
Those last two lines just made me smile. Kids are wonderful little creatures. I don't know how old this comment is, but I hope Joe feels better. Croup sounds alot worse than it is and smart thinking putting his head in the icebox. A steamy bathroom also works.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Friday, January 26, 2007
so yeah...
So everyone has their weakness. Even God-like paramedics, like myself (ha!), have something that they just aren't that great at. We are not perfect creatures, especially after a grueling 36 hour shift. I am not on my A game. At about hour 27 I lose all capacity to form real sentances, it mostly becomes a series of grunts and sighs. But thats neither here nor there. My real weakness, Is math. I just can't ever grasp a hold of it, which in my line of work can mean giving a patient Four mgs of Epi instead of point four mg of epi which can result in the patients heart actually exploding. Now, with that said, I do drug calc after drug calc, I carry a calulator in my pocket at all times, along with a whole notepad of doses. I have a chart for all my RSI drugs, I have a chart for all of the drips we carry on the truck, I even have a chart that has all of my pediatric drugs and doses. I have no problem looking things up in my feild guide, my standing orders or whatever esle I have handy. Even if it makes me look a little bit rookie-ish. Because I'd rather look like a rookie to a live patient than a dead one.
The reason I'm telling my secret is that this is why I totally scared to get my Acting Crew Cheif. It's really, really scares me that the powers that be want me...the math retard...to be in charge of a truck. It's not like I can turn to the compleatly green part-time basic and say...So how many drops make 5mcgs per min per kg? Not that I wouldn't trust my Basic, because they can save a paramedics ass. But it's something they don't need to know. It would be like asking the stock boy at the grocery store...so...what should I do about my 401K? The Basic's job is to turn to the overzealous medic who is getting all distracted by all those advanced things like IVs and various tubes and say..."Shouldn't we expose the patient all the way because the cop said the dude heard 4 shots, but I'm only seeing 2 bullet holes? It' might explain why the dudes crashing but the holes we see wouldn't cause that" Yes, we medics have been known to over look the basic stuff because we are so into all that really cool blinky, beeping advanced stuff. But thats another post, so back to me...and my drug problems. You wouldn't think a little thing like a few math problems would have me all worked up like this, but it does. I may be able to read a 12 lead quickly, yet efficently. I may be able to restrain a violent psych in les than 2 minutes. I know that help is only a radio key-up away. But when it's just you and your partner out there, and they have put you in charge of not only you partner, but also some other person's life. And I have to know that you give .5mg every 5 mins up to a dose of .04mg/kg of atropine to the dying bradycardic and also how much fluid goes into that syringe to make .5mgs of atropine. That just scares the hell outta me.
But practice makes perfect. So I will continue to do drug calc after drug calc...drip after drip. Just so when the narc keys are tossed to me on that first shift as an Acting I will be able to quit hyperventalating and be able to help the sick and stupid of my county.
The reason I'm telling my secret is that this is why I totally scared to get my Acting Crew Cheif. It's really, really scares me that the powers that be want me...the math retard...to be in charge of a truck. It's not like I can turn to the compleatly green part-time basic and say...So how many drops make 5mcgs per min per kg? Not that I wouldn't trust my Basic, because they can save a paramedics ass. But it's something they don't need to know. It would be like asking the stock boy at the grocery store...so...what should I do about my 401K? The Basic's job is to turn to the overzealous medic who is getting all distracted by all those advanced things like IVs and various tubes and say..."Shouldn't we expose the patient all the way because the cop said the dude heard 4 shots, but I'm only seeing 2 bullet holes? It' might explain why the dudes crashing but the holes we see wouldn't cause that" Yes, we medics have been known to over look the basic stuff because we are so into all that really cool blinky, beeping advanced stuff. But thats another post, so back to me...and my drug problems. You wouldn't think a little thing like a few math problems would have me all worked up like this, but it does. I may be able to read a 12 lead quickly, yet efficently. I may be able to restrain a violent psych in les than 2 minutes. I know that help is only a radio key-up away. But when it's just you and your partner out there, and they have put you in charge of not only you partner, but also some other person's life. And I have to know that you give .5mg every 5 mins up to a dose of .04mg/kg of atropine to the dying bradycardic and also how much fluid goes into that syringe to make .5mgs of atropine. That just scares the hell outta me.
But practice makes perfect. So I will continue to do drug calc after drug calc...drip after drip. Just so when the narc keys are tossed to me on that first shift as an Acting I will be able to quit hyperventalating and be able to help the sick and stupid of my county.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
untitled
So I have now a date. The date that the pins and screw get taken out of my foot. Feb. 9th I will no longer have a bionic foot. Then about two more weeks to make sure I don't have an orthopeadic collapse. I'm not quite sure what that is but it's doesn't sound good. Actully, it sounds like something we go any given nursing home at 0200 to pick up. Medic 5... 76, delta response... to the old folks home for an 81 year old complaining of orthopaedic collaspe. Patient will be in the dinning room.
Seriously.
Then after that I will leave cubicle hell and head back to the streets, where instead of dealing with the HQ crowd I get my freaks and tweeks back. I'm still debating which can cause me more pain. At least at the office I'm not getting spit on. But then again, I go back to what I love. Having the freedom to drive where ever I want and having my free time during the week to do things like doctors appointments and going to the bank. I really am having trouble figuring out how people stuck behind a desk 9-5 get anything done. Like when do they go to the grocery store? Or to the bank? An hour for lunch just isn't enough time to really do much of anything. I can barely eat, let alone be productive. I guess I have spent to much of my working life with such a screwed up schedule that normal hours no longer apply anymore. Going grocery shopping at 3am just doesn't seem all that strange to me. There sure isn't a whole hell of alot of people getting in the way. and the drunk college kids in the Harris Teeter at 3 in the morning are always good for entertainment. Speaking of drunk college kids, I just have to say I was witness to the most spectaular conversation between two fantasticly drunk girls in the bathroom of a downtown bar. There just isn't words for what I heard. It took all the control I had ever needed to muster to keep myself from laughing so hard that I would have to actually sit down to keep from falling over. It was pure drunkinese and a little bit of word salad, but the parts that made sense went a little something like "So...I like totally respect you and our friendship and like all that sisterhood shit...And it's doen;t matter that you ...like...fucked him and all...I'm soooo over that...because you mean more to me than him...because were like...sisters!" Then somethings that I couldn't understand then watching them teeter on 5 inch manolo knock offs and try and fix what was left of what was once perfect make-up. I actully felt better about myself. In my crappy jeans and tee shirt and barely there make-up. Because it made me relize that deep down, we all are just a mess.
Seriously.
Then after that I will leave cubicle hell and head back to the streets, where instead of dealing with the HQ crowd I get my freaks and tweeks back. I'm still debating which can cause me more pain. At least at the office I'm not getting spit on. But then again, I go back to what I love. Having the freedom to drive where ever I want and having my free time during the week to do things like doctors appointments and going to the bank. I really am having trouble figuring out how people stuck behind a desk 9-5 get anything done. Like when do they go to the grocery store? Or to the bank? An hour for lunch just isn't enough time to really do much of anything. I can barely eat, let alone be productive. I guess I have spent to much of my working life with such a screwed up schedule that normal hours no longer apply anymore. Going grocery shopping at 3am just doesn't seem all that strange to me. There sure isn't a whole hell of alot of people getting in the way. and the drunk college kids in the Harris Teeter at 3 in the morning are always good for entertainment. Speaking of drunk college kids, I just have to say I was witness to the most spectaular conversation between two fantasticly drunk girls in the bathroom of a downtown bar. There just isn't words for what I heard. It took all the control I had ever needed to muster to keep myself from laughing so hard that I would have to actually sit down to keep from falling over. It was pure drunkinese and a little bit of word salad, but the parts that made sense went a little something like "So...I like totally respect you and our friendship and like all that sisterhood shit...And it's doen;t matter that you ...like...fucked him and all...I'm soooo over that...because you mean more to me than him...because were like...sisters!" Then somethings that I couldn't understand then watching them teeter on 5 inch manolo knock offs and try and fix what was left of what was once perfect make-up. I actully felt better about myself. In my crappy jeans and tee shirt and barely there make-up. Because it made me relize that deep down, we all are just a mess.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Even SWAT calls 911
Officer Down! Officer Down! Move! Move! Move!
Originally uploaded by artist in the ambulance 190.
So a few days ago I went out with the Tactical Medical Team (TEMS for short) on a training mission with the Sherrif's Office SWAT team. I am my systems Offical/UnOffical Photographer. So we needed photos of all of the special operation teams (we have three, TEMS, TRMT, which is the Technial Rescue Team...That's the one I'm on, and the HAZ-MAT team...or AKA the gloworms) Anyways, The TEMS teams are a gorup of highly trained Paramedics that are deployed with the SWAT teams during missions. They work very closly with the boys in blue.
Now here I was, still casted, having to move quickly to get shots and then get out os the way. I had to have special permission from not only the team, but also from my orthopeadic surgeon to take thses photos. I was really happy with the results. And the SWAT team guys were like "you move pretty well for a cripple" Thanks guys.
Also thanks to the SWAT team and the TEMS team for letting me come out on your super secret squirll medic night mission.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Rambles On About Nothing is my indian name
Well, I really have nothing to report. I just felt like writing. So here I sits, and thinks about nothing in particular. Listening to Some new music I got with my iTunes christmas cards. Wishing I had bought Bloc Party's new one and The Shins, the one with The New Slang on it. But I was feeling more Goldfrapp and TV on the Radio that day. So next time. I shot off a couple rolls of film today. Yes, seriously, film. People still shoot with film. Even I put down the digital Nikon occasionaly and pick up something old skool, like today I shot with a Holga. For those unfamiler, it s a plastic toy camera. It distorts, light leaks, the colors are all twisty. Well, I shot B&W, but I'm looking forward to getting the film developed. Maybe I will go back into the darkroom.
The foot is healing. I have one pin and one screw left. They come out hopefully at the end of the month. Then back to the streets. I miss my job, my real job, not my fake sit in front of a computer all day job. I just don't have the attention span for it. I get all distracted by everything else besides what I'm actually supposed to be doing. I don't know if anyone else out there knows waht ICD-9 codes are, but they are the bane of my existance right now. I do get the read the narritives from the run sheets, which can be entertaining. But people who type there reports in ALL CAPS I hate that. ITS LIKE YOU ARE SCREAMING!. AND IT MAKES THEM HARD TO READ. There is also someone who mispells the same word on every report. Now I'm a terrible speller and my typos have caused more than one of my reports to be kicked back to me. But seriously, its a simple word. And it's on every single report, so I'm just saying. There is one medic in particular who writing style I really like though (makes me laugh) and another who tries to put as many quoted four letter words as possible in one report. (also makes me laugh) The record is 6 F bombs. Some use nothing but Acronyms, other spell everything out. I am partial to the acronyms myself (CHF, HTN, NTG, ASA, HONDA, DFO/IC, NGAH, BBSCTA, CAOx3, PMSx4...ect...ect)I have also learned that two alcoholic beverages is still the average number for the absolutly smashed (who came up with the two drink rule?), but crack binges last on average about four days.
Finally over the strep. Throat's still sore, but at least I feel much much better. And the fever broke yesterday. I have been able to eat something besides tylenol and grape popcicles (my favorite, right up there with green jello)
Okay thats all I got.
The foot is healing. I have one pin and one screw left. They come out hopefully at the end of the month. Then back to the streets. I miss my job, my real job, not my fake sit in front of a computer all day job. I just don't have the attention span for it. I get all distracted by everything else besides what I'm actually supposed to be doing. I don't know if anyone else out there knows waht ICD-9 codes are, but they are the bane of my existance right now. I do get the read the narritives from the run sheets, which can be entertaining. But people who type there reports in ALL CAPS I hate that. ITS LIKE YOU ARE SCREAMING!. AND IT MAKES THEM HARD TO READ. There is also someone who mispells the same word on every report. Now I'm a terrible speller and my typos have caused more than one of my reports to be kicked back to me. But seriously, its a simple word. And it's on every single report, so I'm just saying. There is one medic in particular who writing style I really like though (makes me laugh) and another who tries to put as many quoted four letter words as possible in one report. (also makes me laugh) The record is 6 F bombs. Some use nothing but Acronyms, other spell everything out. I am partial to the acronyms myself (CHF, HTN, NTG, ASA, HONDA, DFO/IC, NGAH, BBSCTA, CAOx3, PMSx4...ect...ect)I have also learned that two alcoholic beverages is still the average number for the absolutly smashed (who came up with the two drink rule?), but crack binges last on average about four days.
Finally over the strep. Throat's still sore, but at least I feel much much better. And the fever broke yesterday. I have been able to eat something besides tylenol and grape popcicles (my favorite, right up there with green jello)
Okay thats all I got.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Happy New Year.
I rang in the new year with a wonderful group of friends and lots of champange. No stairs, no falling, no heels. Both feet still in the same amount of peices I started out with in the beginning of the night. The one still being held together by a couple of pins and a screw. It was a good night to say the least. Then came the next day. Which actually given the amount of alcohol that was consumed, not all that bad really. Its yesterday and today that has been bad. A seriously henious case of strep. The antibotics just don;t seem to be doing the job they are supposed to do. But I'm fighting it. Gave up on trying to eat last night. Now it's just tylenol, motrin, and those little lozenges that taste terrible but work oh so well. I also had dinner with another group of friends, my EMS family. One of which lives in Philly now because she is going to PA school. But she came into town a few days ago. It was good to see her. It was good to see all of them. I haven't seen them as much as I am used to with the not being on the streets right now. Being stuck in the office blows. I don;t do 9 to 5 very well. I'm a night shifter. I prefer the dark. Call me what you will, but I just work better under the moonlight than the sun. I have got another month before I can go back to the streets. The ortho-pods have to remove the hardware in my foot. And I have to build up the strenth back up in my leg. I'm working on getting a place to stay once I'm back on my feet (Pun intended haa) Like I have said before, I love my parents and that I have a place to come if I need it, but I moved out six years ago. This has not been easy on anyone involved. I'm ready to have my own space again. Well its time for my Motrin dose, the CSI: then bed.
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