Job Hazards

So I get a page to pick up a patient I have transported many times before. I had not seen her in a couple months since I dropped her off at her nursing home. She is an enjoyable patient. One who is always engaging me in conversation and telling me about her life, the history of the area, and her family and philosophies in general. Thats one of the great things about some of the patients. You learn real history. Not just the stuff in books. After all history is written by the winners of the wars and those with the most influence so as a rule it is not always an unbiased and true history. So I walk into her room to say hello while getting the stretcher ready. She is in pain and I call for a nurse to make sure this is not a new problem coming to light that she needs to stay in the hospital for. Everything is fine in my mind until I ask her how she has been. I quickly realize that she does not remember me anymore. Its a weird feeling losing someone in that way. I dread having to deal with it in my family as my grandparents and parents get older. This woman was only 12 years older than my own father. Cherish those stories your parents and grandparents tell you. The stories of how things were and those moments they truly felt alive and excited. You never know when you might have to remember them for them. So I sat on the transfer and heard some of the same stories again, I helped out with the missing pieces and that made her happy. I told her about myself again, all the things we had talked about before, and a few new things that she had never asked. This was in a way more important than the basic care I was providing. I look forward to talking to her again. And if I have to I will remember for her again.

Another night at work

Perspective is a funny thing. Today I had a patient who was an admitted IV drug user going through withdrawal symptoms. She was in alot of pain and discomfort. After a couple people attempted to start an IV another nurse and myself were asked to take a look and give it a try. IV drug users are notoriously hard to stick. Due to scar tissue and the destructive nature of the drugs combined with infections caused by dirty needles eventually you develop very poor circulation in the places you shoot up. So we went into the room to take a look at her. Her arms and hands were covered in years of scar tissue, sores, and a few fresh track marks on her hands where she told us she had shot up this morning. So as the nurse prepared to start the IV the patient looked up at me and said “Could you hold my hand? I hate needles, they scare the shit out of me and hurt like hell”. Without a snappy remark about the irony of the situation (that I am notorious and well known for) I went over to the opposite side of the bed, took a seat on a stool and held her hand while rubbing her shoulder and talking in a quiet voice to distract her. She looked at me tearfully and said “Thank you for not judging me” and winced in pain as the nurse plunged the needle into a well abused and scarred vein.

Well I had a great day boys and girls. "Why was it so great?" you may ask. Well it was a particular patient that made my day. So today I went out on a call to pick up a patient for a psych eval. Well When we get there he is waiting out front with two of the staff. Now this guy is dressed in boots, Jeans, a camoflage photographers vest and a boonie cap. He carries his worldly possessions on his back for he is a street prophet (fanfare) and one thing I have learned. Street Prophets are a voice in the silence, a candle in the darkness, a brilliantly stark perception snap. So this guy starts out by telling my partner and I "Well I have been seeing alot of alligators lately and it is beginning to scare me"

Fair enough.....

So then he proceeds to tell us he has also been seeing people fall out of trees. But it does not stop there. The people would then rush away in blue pick up trucks.

Ummm Ok. How about lets go to the hospital where you can get some meds

Yessir thats what I need. SO he gets in the Ambulance. Now normally I do not relish the thought of being in a 4 fot by 8 foot space with a guy who has in all likelyhood not had a shower since dinosaurs roamed the Earth and puppies were the oldest mammals, but I had to hang out for a minute or two while he explained to my partner about how the people falling out of the trees incessantly call out for help but then change their mind and told him "we are alright now" right as he gets near them. Hallucinations can be quite fickle like that. He then explained that he had injured the back of his head when he was younger and when they fixed it they put in a volume knob.

Oh yes....
You know you want to ask...I certainly did

What is that for? "Well you can stick your finger in the back of my head and mess with it so I can hear everything or turn it down so I can't hear a thing"

I could not make this shit up people

Well then.....I guess I did ask.....Anywyas We drive this guy to the hospital. During the trip he tells us about his life. He was a jet pilot in the afgani air force (russians made him do it) he had also learned how to fly a helicopter (apparently this guy he knew taught him how in an afternoon) And he had been "satanically abused" in some foreign country accidentally.

I resisted the teptation....oh yes...it was difficult

He had also joined the Army Reserves but was tracked down for being AWOL. Well he did not mean to be AWOL he had apparently gotten so stoned that he forgot to show up. So, as he tells it "A lietenant came to my door and my uncle answered it and said 'hey some army guy is here' and thats when he took me to the back yard where he had landed a helicopter to take me, and four other guys he found, back to the Army."

Right as he says this I pull into the WWBH parking lot only to hear the angels sing as a LifeStar helicopter was doing a slow approach to the LZ a mere 40 feet from the road.

I slowed down and rolled the windows down to get the sound to travel to the back of the ambulance. And this is when he tells us he was a ranger with "Navy Seal hand to hand combat" training. He then tells us the one revelation that made my day.

"STEVE IRWIN IS TRYING TO GET ME TO HUNT CROCODILES AS WORK"

Yes boys and girls.....Steve irwin had apparently only 2 days prior told this man to carry on with his work.

For those of you that have absolutley no conciousness and have not heard one way or another, Steve Irwin, the delightfully clever, witty, kind, good hearted, stereotypically Australian, Crocodile Hunter died earlier this week. Like 4 days earlier.

Well...I guess thats what people call a "calling"

So we get him inside and turned over to the staff who upon inventorying his belongings find a camouflage net (apparently to conceal himself while hunting aforementioned reptiles)

Wow....I love my job. It is days like this I know I am witnessing a side of life I could not see anywhere else. Not in any other Job. So the next time you see a Street Prophet looking for work or looking for some spare change think about it....they could be a crocodile hunter just taking some time off from their real job....or maybe a superhero...or a prince in rags. They are all kings in my book.

An old story most of you have heard

So it is 11pm and we get called out to bring this sweet old man to his house after a harrowing day in the ER. This trip should take about 30 minutes and then it is back to my cozy spot on the couch checking my eyelids for their light safe characteristics. So everything wwent fine with this guy, good spirits, nice, stable, but well seasoned at 85. I checked the address and I knew where it was (which is good since I was driving) and away we go. So as I pull into this complex the address was B2. I soon noticed after parking and walking through the complex that there was no B2 in the place. So I thought "Hey maybe it is 2B!" Looking at the buildings I soon noticed they went 1 to 3 to 4 and all the way to 12. No 2? This was kind of strange. So after calling my dispatcher who unfortunately thought the address was for a different town entirely, my partner called the mans wife who after explaining that WE had her husband and were bringing him home tod us she lived in "4". So we took the patient to building 4 and began knocking on the door. There was no answer. My partner went around the other side of the building and startled an elderly lady who had no clue what we were doing there or who this poor man on our stretcher was. We called again as the man was gettng quite scared and upset. Apparently he thought we were just going to give him to the first person who opened a door for us. This time we asked the mans wife if she could see our ambulance from where she was. To this she replied "yes". We then asked her what unit she was in and again she told us "4". So we asked her to flip her light on and off for us so we could ascertain the location of the dubious "4" Loking around the complex I see the light flicker on and off at Unit 12a. This did not look like "4" but it was a multiple of the number so we took this poor man to the unit. Nervously I approached and found it to be the right one. We got the man into bed and all was well. Upon leaving I looked at the front door only to find that some sadistic bastard with an equally twisted sense of humor had placed the numeral"4" on her front door. Fair enough I though.

As we are driving away from this adventure I was getting some fresh air, my window down, passing the state hospital when god decided to yank my chain one more time and suck my paperwork out of my window and deposit it at the side of the road next to the creepiest building at the Norwich State Hospital.

But this night only got better. At about 145am we get called out to a "Deranged Person" near the bus station downtown. We arrive and there are three police cars surrounding a very large and very angry man. "Greeeaaaat" I thought. Lucily my partner had dealt with this guy and they had a rapport. So she got into the back with him, his sleeping bag, and his backpack. He had been drinking the better part of a 30 pack and was feeling very angry and stated he had recently lost his father and had just buried him. So we get to the hospital and as he is getting out we helped him zip up his backpack. Well when he said he had buried his father it was only parttially true. Apparently his fathers wishes were that he be cremated. And this guy has "buried" his father under a t-shirt in his backpack. Keeping him close at hand for when he neded him apparently. So into the ER we go as this guy us telling us that he is going to fight everyone he can once we are in there. We sit him down, clutching the backpack, and explain to the charge nurse the situation.

Well he is a bit upset and angry about losing his father and he has also been drinking. He has beer in his backpack.

He has beer in there?

Yes and he says his father is in there too.

Oh his father is in his backpack eh? (sly smile here thinking this guy was imagining it)

No really...his father died recently and he is IN the backpack.

Your serious?

Yep.

I can't make this crap up people.