I hate day shifts. With a passion. Days are loud and bright, with far too many people getting in the way on a scene, and far too many idiots on the road. Far too hot in the summertime as well. The calls are different too, more nursing homes and fender-bender neck pain. Many of the full-timers on day shifts are older, more burnt out and crankier too.
Nights are much more fun. I like the younger group of medics and the more relaxed atmosphere. There is a greater feeling of camaraderie among the medics, nurses, fire and police too, it's us against the night. I prefer the drunks, ODs and assault calls, and I love going home and curling into bed when the rest of the world is just waking up. Driving Code 4 is also much more fun and much easier at 3am when the roads are empty and the intersections are clear. Nights are definitely my time, too bad I'm on days all weekend.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
"Soft Skills"
She had, in that moment, lost her humanity. She lay sprawled face down on the floor in front of us, an absolutely gigantic 500+ lbs. The nursing home had called 911 after she had attempted to get out of bed, her swollen, lesion-covered legs giving way underneath her massive bulk.
As we stood around her, 2 medics, 6 firefighters and several nurses, I realized that we were discussing how to move her like she was an inanimate object. I was embarrassed and ashamed by the fact that none of us had introduced ourselves or explained what we were doing, we were treating her just an object that we needed to move. I knelt down beside her head and with my hand on her shoulder, introduced myself and my partner, and explained to her what we were going to do to get her back into bed. Her muffled sobbing stopped and she apologized for trying to get out of bed when she knew she shouldn't have.
Now, it certainly wasn't an easy lift, as she was extremely heavy, covered in oozing sores and presented a truly unique odour, but I was able to sleep easily that morning by knowing that I may have made the situation slightly more bearable for her simply by acknowledging her humanity. Not a super-exciting paramedic skill they teach in school, but something we should never forget to do.
As we stood around her, 2 medics, 6 firefighters and several nurses, I realized that we were discussing how to move her like she was an inanimate object. I was embarrassed and ashamed by the fact that none of us had introduced ourselves or explained what we were doing, we were treating her just an object that we needed to move. I knelt down beside her head and with my hand on her shoulder, introduced myself and my partner, and explained to her what we were going to do to get her back into bed. Her muffled sobbing stopped and she apologized for trying to get out of bed when she knew she shouldn't have.
Now, it certainly wasn't an easy lift, as she was extremely heavy, covered in oozing sores and presented a truly unique odour, but I was able to sleep easily that morning by knowing that I may have made the situation slightly more bearable for her simply by acknowledging her humanity. Not a super-exciting paramedic skill they teach in school, but something we should never forget to do.
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