About Tuesday I noticed a foul smell in the ambulance -- a smell like someone had left a meat sandwich under the seat or a mouse had died somewhere in the woodwork. We left the ambulance outside with the doors open for two hours, but it didn't help. It was a nasty smell, sometimes it was so bad, when I was sitting on the bench taking care of a patient, I wanted to apologize to them. I also wanted to think it wasn't me, because it smelled as bad as the worst patients I've had -- not the really worst -- the ones with anaerobic bacteria rotting flesh -- but pretty damn close -- the I haven't bathed in five months nasty.
The Tuesday night medic said he'd noticed the night before and thought it was just the musty smell when the front carpeting gets wet. Dude, you have to go to the nose doctor if that is all you smell. The Wednesday night medic told me he had his crew empty out the entire ambulance and hose everything down, then spray it with cleaner. Still the stink remained.
Thursday I'm sitting there and it is overcoming me. I've got one crew member in the back along with my patient -- an eleven year old mentally retarded girl with cerebral palsy who'd had a seizure, and her aide. I apologize to the aide for the smell. I tell her we have looked all over and can't figure it out. It has to be a dead mouse or something. She says, it smells like it is coming from over there. She is pointing at me. I start sniffing. I sniff to the right, then sniff to the left.
I learn over the sharps box my curiosity peaked. I inhale.
Picture this. CSI. The poor victim inhales. A vortex of green flourescent microbes shoots up his nostrils like dual cruise missles. The deadly spores travel throughout the body finding purchase deep in the tissues. Three days later, he's on the slab at the morgue and everyone is wearing white space suits.
I don't know what was in there. Whether some diabetic lost their gangrenous toe in the back of the ambulance and someone picked it up and plopped it in the sharps box, or some alien puked their vile spooge in there, but it was nasty. I was instantly nauseous, my head spinning, my eyes seeing black spots. I fought back the puke that no doubt would have infected everyone in the back and maybe even killed the driver, causing her to go off the road, taking out a few more cars, pedestrians, maybe sprawling across the railroad tracks and derailing a train carrying nuclear waste. We are talking major disater here, affecting the weather patterns, and ultimately ending up in the destruction of earth. A future extraterrestial explorer lands on the devestarted earth years from now, and picks up the bug and carries the Andromeda strain back to its interplanetary galaxy, and we're talking the end of everything here.
Oh Lord, I don't want to die this way. At least I saw the Red Sox win the World Series.
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Friday, October 22, 2004
Daily Special
We get called for a fall at the local fast food chicken restaurant.
Back in the kitchen, the woman is laying on the ground between the fryers and the food prep table. She's maybe twenty-two, but a big woman -- looks like she's been dining on the fast food fare most of her life. I'm guessing she's two-ninety. She says she slipped on the grease on the floor, wacked her head on the table, and now her neck and knee hurt. She's got ketchup and flour and bread crumbs on her uniform shirt.
My partner almost wipes out on top of her when he comes back with the c-spine bag. I'm thinking this place is nasty. Food sitting out unrefrigerated. Crusted mashed potatoes on the counter. Grease everywhere. Flies on the biscuits.
The woman hangs over both sides of the board. We have to reach down under her to get the straps fixed. We slide her on the floor, around several corners. There was no way to get the stretcher in the tight quarters. A police officer and I lift her up on the board, bending our knees and driving up. We set her on the counter. My partner is on the other side -- the customer side. We slide her right across, past the cash register, right onto our waiting stretcher.
A toothless customer, watching with big eyes, remarks, "Daily Special. I'll take an order of that."
Back in the kitchen, the woman is laying on the ground between the fryers and the food prep table. She's maybe twenty-two, but a big woman -- looks like she's been dining on the fast food fare most of her life. I'm guessing she's two-ninety. She says she slipped on the grease on the floor, wacked her head on the table, and now her neck and knee hurt. She's got ketchup and flour and bread crumbs on her uniform shirt.
My partner almost wipes out on top of her when he comes back with the c-spine bag. I'm thinking this place is nasty. Food sitting out unrefrigerated. Crusted mashed potatoes on the counter. Grease everywhere. Flies on the biscuits.
The woman hangs over both sides of the board. We have to reach down under her to get the straps fixed. We slide her on the floor, around several corners. There was no way to get the stretcher in the tight quarters. A police officer and I lift her up on the board, bending our knees and driving up. We set her on the counter. My partner is on the other side -- the customer side. We slide her right across, past the cash register, right onto our waiting stretcher.
A toothless customer, watching with big eyes, remarks, "Daily Special. I'll take an order of that."
Sunday, October 10, 2004
The Stretcher
Arthur is making up the stretcher by the linen cart just inside the ER doors. "I'm going down to the cafeteria to get a sandwich," he says, as he tightens the last strap. "You want anything?"
"No, I'm good. I just have to get times and drop off my report."
I end up getting in a conversation with a doctor, and so its a good ten minutes later when I come back down the hall. I pass a stretcher and the linen cart on my way out to the ambulance, where I find Arthur eating the last of his sandwich.
"Get enough to eat?"
"Yes, thank you," he says. "Not a bad sandwich for $2.25. Ready to clear?"
"All set."
He clears us on the radio and they post us at the hospital
We stay put. Arthur does the crossword puzzle, while I read my book.
About fifteen minutes later, we get a call. "857. Main and Pershing for the MVA. Priority One."
Arthur repeats the address, hits the lights on and we roll.
The Fire Department arrives just ahead of us. We get out to inspect the two cars and their occupants. Its a legitamite accident, nothing dramatic, but enough of an impact to take any complaint seriously. One man is up and walking about. He says his shoulder hurts. There is another man behind the steering wheel, who is claiming neck pain. The driver of the other car says he is all right.
"I'll get the stretcher," I say to Arthur.
I walk around to the back of the ambulance and open up the doors. I stare in the back. There is no stretcher.
Maybe the fire guys pulled it, I think. They do that sometimes.
I walk back to the cars. I see Arthur and four fire guys standing around. No one has the stretcher.
"Come with me," I say to the guy with shoulder pain. I walk him around to the back of the ambulance and help him in. I have him sit in the captain's chair. "I'll be right back."
I get a board, collar, headbed and straps and walk them over to Arthur. "Board and collar this guy," I say, "and then carry him around to the back of the ambulance."
"Where's the stretcher?"
I stare at him a moment. "Don't ask."
I see the glint of recognition that comes into his eyes then.
"Just board him and bring him around. He's not too big."
I'm in the back with the other patient when a few minutes later, Arthur and the fire guys carry the now boarded patient around to the back. I take the head end as they hand the patient in, and we lay the boarded patient up on the bench seat.
The four fire guys are standing looking in at the back of the ambulance. They look perplexed.
"Thanks guys," I say, and shut the doors. "Let's get out of here," I call to Arthur.
When we get to the hospital, Arthur goes in and comes back out with the stretcher. We load it in the back, transfer the patient on the bench seat onto the stretcher, then pull him out. I get a wheel chair for the guy with shoulder pain. We wheel them both in.
***
"Sorry," Arthur says later. "I must be getting old."
"Happens to the best of us."
"We'll keep this between ourselves?"
"We will never speak of it again," I say.
"No, I'm good. I just have to get times and drop off my report."
I end up getting in a conversation with a doctor, and so its a good ten minutes later when I come back down the hall. I pass a stretcher and the linen cart on my way out to the ambulance, where I find Arthur eating the last of his sandwich.
"Get enough to eat?"
"Yes, thank you," he says. "Not a bad sandwich for $2.25. Ready to clear?"
"All set."
He clears us on the radio and they post us at the hospital
We stay put. Arthur does the crossword puzzle, while I read my book.
About fifteen minutes later, we get a call. "857. Main and Pershing for the MVA. Priority One."
Arthur repeats the address, hits the lights on and we roll.
The Fire Department arrives just ahead of us. We get out to inspect the two cars and their occupants. Its a legitamite accident, nothing dramatic, but enough of an impact to take any complaint seriously. One man is up and walking about. He says his shoulder hurts. There is another man behind the steering wheel, who is claiming neck pain. The driver of the other car says he is all right.
"I'll get the stretcher," I say to Arthur.
I walk around to the back of the ambulance and open up the doors. I stare in the back. There is no stretcher.
Maybe the fire guys pulled it, I think. They do that sometimes.
I walk back to the cars. I see Arthur and four fire guys standing around. No one has the stretcher.
"Come with me," I say to the guy with shoulder pain. I walk him around to the back of the ambulance and help him in. I have him sit in the captain's chair. "I'll be right back."
I get a board, collar, headbed and straps and walk them over to Arthur. "Board and collar this guy," I say, "and then carry him around to the back of the ambulance."
"Where's the stretcher?"
I stare at him a moment. "Don't ask."
I see the glint of recognition that comes into his eyes then.
"Just board him and bring him around. He's not too big."
I'm in the back with the other patient when a few minutes later, Arthur and the fire guys carry the now boarded patient around to the back. I take the head end as they hand the patient in, and we lay the boarded patient up on the bench seat.
The four fire guys are standing looking in at the back of the ambulance. They look perplexed.
"Thanks guys," I say, and shut the doors. "Let's get out of here," I call to Arthur.
When we get to the hospital, Arthur goes in and comes back out with the stretcher. We load it in the back, transfer the patient on the bench seat onto the stretcher, then pull him out. I get a wheel chair for the guy with shoulder pain. We wheel them both in.
***
"Sorry," Arthur says later. "I must be getting old."
"Happens to the best of us."
"We'll keep this between ourselves?"
"We will never speak of it again," I say.
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Coming and Going
We're sent on a priority to for the unresponsive, but when the cops get there they slow us down. It's a 10- a dead body.
We go in and walk down into the basement where we find the cops standing around the body.
A man in his forties is sitting on a couch, his head face down on a table covering a girlie magazine. On the right side of his head is a crack pipe, on the left a open can of Budweiser beer. His pants are around his ankles, and his right hand is riggored stiff clutching himself.
"How about that," my partner says. "Died coming and going at the same time."
We go in and walk down into the basement where we find the cops standing around the body.
A man in his forties is sitting on a couch, his head face down on a table covering a girlie magazine. On the right side of his head is a crack pipe, on the left a open can of Budweiser beer. His pants are around his ankles, and his right hand is riggored stiff clutching himself.
"How about that," my partner says. "Died coming and going at the same time."
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