like i said in a previous post, when people pass away it is a paramedic's job to place the ecg on the patient to ensure that there are no signs of life and pronounce death. even if it is so painfully obvious, i show up, print a strip, look at my watch, and officially give a time of departure... which leads me to this little tale.
so a while back the tones go off, the computer screen lights up, and i'm called to a shitty little residential hotel for "the obvious doa." there are two cop cars outside of the hotel, and as i walk in i see a police officer fanning his hand across his nose giving me the heads up that this call is incredibly foul. great... my favorite smell: human decomposition.
this fragrance is like no other and a bit difficult to describe, but every policeman, paramedic, and firefighter is very familiar with this scent. it's not like rotting meat, and it's not like ignored garbage. it's very pungent and putrid, but there's a little sweetness behind it. human decomposition is so specific to humans... it's not the mouse behind the stove or the dog in the ditch. it's truly awful, and yet as natural as life. the odor escapes rooms, crawls under doors, and races down hallways and stairs searching for nostrils. it is this odor that gets us out the call in the first place, when neighbors know that things just aren't right and decide to finally pick up the phone.
that odor raced toward me the moment that i entered the hotel. the call was on the second floor, and as i was walking up the gummy, carpeted stairs the odor just snowballed to a powerfully repugnant level. being prepared, i took out my vicks, gave a wipe to my mask, donned it, and headed toward the patient. there were three officers outside of the room having a terrible time with this call. they were so uncomfortable and sick to their stomachs. we run these calls a bit with varying amounts of odor, but this one was pretty much as bad as it gets. it was summertime, the room was hot, and obviously this speeds up the process quite a bit. i handed them my vicks and a few masks.
this day i was working with a great paramedic who happens to be a female, a little girly. tough, but still feminine. she was not having this at all, gagging and turning away, so i volunteered to take care of it. i opened the door to the hotel room and walked inside.
this hotel room was like so many others. cluttered, dirty, dishes in the sink, generic brand canned food and top ramen, ashtrays overflowing with butts, empty beer cans, television on. the patient was lying on her back on the bed. nightgown, uncovered, bloated, blue and black all over. the cause of death looked natural enough. i placed the ecg on the bed and started placing stickers on the patient's hands and feet to run this strip.
a skinny white cat darted out from under the bed. "hey there, kitty." i went over to pet it, it was a little skittish, but thankful for the attention. after 30 seconds of that i went back to the patient. i gave her another scan and noticed that a good amount of her left cheek was missing. "could her cheek have decomposed?" i thought to myself. no... there were bite marks and a bit of meat missing. i looked back at the cat suspiciously. i scanned the kitchen again and noted that there were two empty cat bowls. hmmm...
i felt sympathetic for this cat. i don't know what happens to pets when their owner dies and there's no family, but i can only guess that they're placed in a shelter and go up for a potential adoption. this cat was pretty cute and probably stood a good chance at finding a new home. i played this scenario out a few times and was a little amused to think that there was a little boy or a little girl in the near future playing with mr. binkles with some yarn with absoutely no clue that if this cat ever got hungry enough, he wouldn't hesitate to eat their faces.
i suppose after the first time it's not that weird.
Showing posts with label paramedic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paramedic. Show all posts
Monday, February 23, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
nothing in '08
if you read the first post i warned you that i may slack, and boy... did i EVER. nothing written in '08 as if nothing happened. but rest assured, some shit went down. and if it weren't for a friend pointing out fuck you penguin i might have never written here again. what an inspirational site! so, thanks, my fellow penguin hating friend (i can't stand those little assholes either, by the way).
man... this job... how weird. how weird is it to laugh at that which is terrifying just because you're afraid to appear scared? how weird is it to pretend like none of this affects you... it only affects the weak? how weird is it to tell a granddaughter that you did everything you could, but tonight was his time and he's in a better place, assuming that she buys into that illusion? it's pretty fucking weird. believe me.
like the time that i got a call for a shooting in the worst set of projects in the city. these projects are not nestled into the rest of the town like some of the more updated and visually appealing loft-type, condo-looking projects. nope, these projects are well out of the eyesight of any tourist or taxpayer.
sometime in '08 i was just about to log off the system when the tones went off and my unit was summoned to respond to the shooting on the street that these infamous projects got their name. i start the rig and turn on the lights and sirens. didn't know what to expect, but i've had this call so many times that i'm not tripping. might be nothing. we pull up to the projects that look like aging cell blocks and take a deep breath. i see about six cops trying to quell at least forty people that are in the process of losing their minds. my partner and i grab our equipment and get into the center of this mess.
let me first explain the layout of these projects because they're a little unique. these projects lie on the edge of the city where no regular residences reside. they are up on a hill, away from the sight of anyone who may be driving on the street below. up on this hill there are about eight penitentiary-type buildings, each two stories, with about six or so units each. they are in an uneven circle around eachother so that there is open space in the middle with cement pathways connecting each one. in this open space are old clotheslines, broken toys, distressed bicycles, and various garbage. not pretty. there are some lights, but many of them are out, so while you can see, you have to work at it. there are no grocery stores around here and i'm guessing that most the food that these families buy comes from convenience stores. there are no schools around here. there is no hope around here... there's no way out.
we grab our equipment and walk down a steep hill to the scene. people are screaming at us to hurry. there are about six officers, all have their guns drawn and are yelling at people to "back the fuck up!" there are four firefighters, one chief, two paramedics, and six officers vs. forty extremely upset people, all of which probably aren't really big fans of "the man." i get to the patient. bullethole to the forehead. brain matter. bullet hole to the neck. a LOT of blood loss. over eight bulletholes to the legs. again, a LOT of blood loss. check a pulse. no pulse. place leads on patient. asystole. this guy is not coming back. there are no interventions that can save him.
now people are screaming at us, "what took you so long?" honestly, from dispatch to scene time... less than five minutes (i checked later, just in case). the scene was getting so nuts, and we were so outnumbered, that i honestly felt that this might me the night that i really get hurt, or worse. because we were in an open courtyard, there wasn't a wall for me to back up to, but there was a tree. i slowly walked backwards until my back was resting on this large barrier. at least now i would see it coming. the chief made the decision that we transport a dead body. sounded okay to me... a bit unusual, but at least i'd be getting out of there. we loaded him onto a backboard, went back up that steep hill, and got the hell out of there.
but this isn't the weird part.
like i said, this 19 year-old had injuries to the head, neck, and legs. but his torso was in perfect shape. the reason? he was wearing a bullet-proof vest.
this really threw me off. here was this kid who was waiting to die. he KNEW it was going to happen this night. i kept trying to imagine what it would be like to be at my house knowing that i was gonna get it... that it was inevitable that my time was up. i imagined picking up a borrowed bulletproof vest and putting it on. i look in the mirror, turn around, look at my back, check myself out. fix my hair. take a deep breath. "yeah... this might do it. this might give me a little more time," and then continue on to what it was that i needed to do, maybe talk to my girlfriend, maybe my mom. one last time.
man... this job... how weird. how weird is it to laugh at that which is terrifying just because you're afraid to appear scared? how weird is it to pretend like none of this affects you... it only affects the weak? how weird is it to tell a granddaughter that you did everything you could, but tonight was his time and he's in a better place, assuming that she buys into that illusion? it's pretty fucking weird. believe me.
like the time that i got a call for a shooting in the worst set of projects in the city. these projects are not nestled into the rest of the town like some of the more updated and visually appealing loft-type, condo-looking projects. nope, these projects are well out of the eyesight of any tourist or taxpayer.
sometime in '08 i was just about to log off the system when the tones went off and my unit was summoned to respond to the shooting on the street that these infamous projects got their name. i start the rig and turn on the lights and sirens. didn't know what to expect, but i've had this call so many times that i'm not tripping. might be nothing. we pull up to the projects that look like aging cell blocks and take a deep breath. i see about six cops trying to quell at least forty people that are in the process of losing their minds. my partner and i grab our equipment and get into the center of this mess.
let me first explain the layout of these projects because they're a little unique. these projects lie on the edge of the city where no regular residences reside. they are up on a hill, away from the sight of anyone who may be driving on the street below. up on this hill there are about eight penitentiary-type buildings, each two stories, with about six or so units each. they are in an uneven circle around eachother so that there is open space in the middle with cement pathways connecting each one. in this open space are old clotheslines, broken toys, distressed bicycles, and various garbage. not pretty. there are some lights, but many of them are out, so while you can see, you have to work at it. there are no grocery stores around here and i'm guessing that most the food that these families buy comes from convenience stores. there are no schools around here. there is no hope around here... there's no way out.
we grab our equipment and walk down a steep hill to the scene. people are screaming at us to hurry. there are about six officers, all have their guns drawn and are yelling at people to "back the fuck up!" there are four firefighters, one chief, two paramedics, and six officers vs. forty extremely upset people, all of which probably aren't really big fans of "the man." i get to the patient. bullethole to the forehead. brain matter. bullet hole to the neck. a LOT of blood loss. over eight bulletholes to the legs. again, a LOT of blood loss. check a pulse. no pulse. place leads on patient. asystole. this guy is not coming back. there are no interventions that can save him.
now people are screaming at us, "what took you so long?" honestly, from dispatch to scene time... less than five minutes (i checked later, just in case). the scene was getting so nuts, and we were so outnumbered, that i honestly felt that this might me the night that i really get hurt, or worse. because we were in an open courtyard, there wasn't a wall for me to back up to, but there was a tree. i slowly walked backwards until my back was resting on this large barrier. at least now i would see it coming. the chief made the decision that we transport a dead body. sounded okay to me... a bit unusual, but at least i'd be getting out of there. we loaded him onto a backboard, went back up that steep hill, and got the hell out of there.
but this isn't the weird part.
like i said, this 19 year-old had injuries to the head, neck, and legs. but his torso was in perfect shape. the reason? he was wearing a bullet-proof vest.
this really threw me off. here was this kid who was waiting to die. he KNEW it was going to happen this night. i kept trying to imagine what it would be like to be at my house knowing that i was gonna get it... that it was inevitable that my time was up. i imagined picking up a borrowed bulletproof vest and putting it on. i look in the mirror, turn around, look at my back, check myself out. fix my hair. take a deep breath. "yeah... this might do it. this might give me a little more time," and then continue on to what it was that i needed to do, maybe talk to my girlfriend, maybe my mom. one last time.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Saturday, August 4, 2007
all in a day's work
i work the graveyard shift, weekends. most people look at me horrified and empathetic when i tell them my hours, but i actually like them. it's a different world out there at night. there's no traffic, all the clinics are closed, and while there's still tons of bullshit calls ("i have a headache," "i twisted my ankle,") at least at night people are drunk and weird and high and entertaining. their bullshit is better. plus, most the chiefs are sleeping, the captains only show up on major calls... there's much more autonomy. the nurses are way cooler... basically, you're all in the shit together at night. i like that.
so the other night i get a call for the 'long fall > six feet.' you never know what you're going to find before you get there, and i never assume the worst. so i arrive on scene and i see two well dressed women giving cpr to someone on the street, below a 20 foot tall bridge. i exit the ambulance, walk closer, and see a black male on the ground, with an enormous amount of blood quickly exiting the back of his head. this usually means, 'i'm dead.' this guy is on the street, face up, all kinds of nappy dreadlocks... oh... and he's NAKED. okay... i hope i painted this for you, here's this guy, totally screwed, and these two nicely dressed ladies are giving mouth to mouth and i'm like, "STOP! (please, for the love of god... stop...)" i check for a pulse, there isn't one, place the leads on the patient, print a strip, call base... time of death, 0130.
so now i have this scene, where there's this naked black guy with dreads layed out on the street, blood coming from his head, congealing, two completely freaked out, well heeled women crying and screaming at their boyfriends on their cell phones to, "COME THE FUCK OVER HERE AND DRIVE ME HOME YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND FUCK YOU JUST COME OVER HERE YOU DON'T GET IT OH MY GOD!!!" when they get off the phone, i try to calm them down. then i try to convince them to go to a hospital and let them know that they might have been exposed to something nasty because they were giving cpr to a DEAD, BLOODY, NAKED HOMELESS GUY... no good deed goes unpunished.
i grab a yellow blanket, cover the body, and start paperwork. this day i have a ride-along, a young girl who is in paramedic school and who needs to be exposed to this nonsense as part of her training. i look over to her, and she is wide-eyed, stunned. i realize that she has never seen anything like this before, and i ask her, "this must have been pretty weird for you, huh?" she looks to me, and she quietly answers, "yeah..." i tell her, "you know what's even weirder than you seeing this and reacting this way?"
"what?"
"the fact that i'm not."
and so it goes... the stereotypical detached paramedic... the dichotomy of doing something for the public because you want to help and because you care. but not too much.
so the other night i get a call for the 'long fall > six feet.' you never know what you're going to find before you get there, and i never assume the worst. so i arrive on scene and i see two well dressed women giving cpr to someone on the street, below a 20 foot tall bridge. i exit the ambulance, walk closer, and see a black male on the ground, with an enormous amount of blood quickly exiting the back of his head. this usually means, 'i'm dead.' this guy is on the street, face up, all kinds of nappy dreadlocks... oh... and he's NAKED. okay... i hope i painted this for you, here's this guy, totally screwed, and these two nicely dressed ladies are giving mouth to mouth and i'm like, "STOP! (please, for the love of god... stop...)" i check for a pulse, there isn't one, place the leads on the patient, print a strip, call base... time of death, 0130.
so now i have this scene, where there's this naked black guy with dreads layed out on the street, blood coming from his head, congealing, two completely freaked out, well heeled women crying and screaming at their boyfriends on their cell phones to, "COME THE FUCK OVER HERE AND DRIVE ME HOME YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND FUCK YOU JUST COME OVER HERE YOU DON'T GET IT OH MY GOD!!!" when they get off the phone, i try to calm them down. then i try to convince them to go to a hospital and let them know that they might have been exposed to something nasty because they were giving cpr to a DEAD, BLOODY, NAKED HOMELESS GUY... no good deed goes unpunished.
i grab a yellow blanket, cover the body, and start paperwork. this day i have a ride-along, a young girl who is in paramedic school and who needs to be exposed to this nonsense as part of her training. i look over to her, and she is wide-eyed, stunned. i realize that she has never seen anything like this before, and i ask her, "this must have been pretty weird for you, huh?" she looks to me, and she quietly answers, "yeah..." i tell her, "you know what's even weirder than you seeing this and reacting this way?"
"what?"
"the fact that i'm not."
and so it goes... the stereotypical detached paramedic... the dichotomy of doing something for the public because you want to help and because you care. but not too much.
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