Qualifications

Scott asked a very good question in the comment section of my last post, and since I'm getting a few more readers who aren't Canadian, family or close friends, I think I should explain my qualification a bit.

I am an Advanced Medical First Responder in the Canadian system, which is comparable to EMT-B in the American System. The next level of training for me would be Primary Care Paramedic, a 2-year college degree, which I believe is similar to EMT-I. Then comes Advanced Care Paramedic, or EMT-P. That is my understanding of the system, but then we have Critical Care Paramedics too...not sure what they would be considered in the States.

I think the main difference between AMFR (usually just called MFR) and EMT-B is that we cannot transport patients on a normal basis. We are only allowed to transport if the roads are closed, (like during a marathon) or there is a state of emergency. Our trucks are fully stocked to BLS standards in case we get called out though, we are to be ready at all times. Barring disaster, we are usually just first response units at major events. Having us there cuts down on a lot of needless 911 calls, as we usually treat and release without any need for activating the next level of care. This means we get a high volume of not-so-bad calls, and very few crazy ones. I rather like this at the moment, I'm creating a solid knowledge base, getting more and more comfortable with the simple calls and basic skills. After I finish my degree I may move onwards and upwards to Paramedic, but we shall see. For now, I'm happy where I am.

The Star of Life

Wrestlemania simply does not appeal to me, so I opt to sit out at the truck with the radios. I can hear the calls better out there, and I don't have to watch the nastiness that is taking place in the ring. Shane and our observer Mary decide to snag seats and watch, I wander in every now and then to say hi. About halfway through, the crowd begins to roar more loudly than usual, so I pop in to see what is happening. Yet two more massive dudes are harassing each other in the ring, I have no clue what the fuss is about. As I walk over to Shane, he beckons me close, "Red, take a look at the lady to the left in the T-shirt. What do you think?" I glance over and take in the scene. She is slightly bent over, holding her chest and searching for something under the seats. Even from the next section I can see she is having trouble breathing. I glance back at Shane, "Looks like a testing scenario gone wrong." He nods in agreement and heads in her direction, Mary hot on his heels. I hang back, it tends to get rather crowded in the stands, and watch. He starts to talk to her, then glances over his shoulder as he helps her out of her seat, giving me THE LOOK.

I grab the trauma bag and head back to the truck, radioing for stadium medical on the way. I grab a chair for her, make sure the AED is within arm's reach (without being obvious), radio my other team to let them know we have a call and grab a PCR as Shane and Mary help her back. As we hook up the O2, Shane tells me she is having chest pain and difficulty breathing, and dropped the only nitro pill she had with her. Lovely. 911 is called and we busy ourselves with treating her, taking vitals and doing paperwork.

Less than 10 minutes after we pulled her out of the stands, the paramedics show up with the fire department. They look at us with slight apprehension, we are volunteers and sadly, many of our members don't always leave the best impression. Shane rifles off a crisp report as I hand them our completed PCR. Her breathing has improved, we have multiple sets of vitals and all the other information they need to continue patient care and fill out their own paperwork. Happily surprised, they re-assess the patient, slap on the monitor pads, lift her onto their stretcher and head off. "Good job, guys." They say as they leave, "Thanks for the help."

It is so nice to be appreciated by the professionals who do this, Shane and I are very pleased. The call was perfectly by the book, although if it were a testing scenario, she would've ended up VSA. It was the first chest pain call we had ran together, and we worked as a perfect team. It's such a nice feeling when our knowledge and treatment is recognized by the responding paramedics, we may be volunteers, but many of us take our job seriously and are darn good at it. We really are an important part of the chain, I think about what the arms of the Star of Life represents and realize we played a large role in it. It have just been an angina attack or something small, but then again, maybe not. Either way, we were there to help her, and that is a good feeling.

Simple Joys

"Is there any felicity in the world superior to this?"
(Marianne, Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen)


We roar down the highway in the ambulance, on our way to our evening duty. I'm with Shane, my new favourite partner. We become better friends every time we work together, he's a country boy with a heart of gold, and completely in love with his girlfriend (which is great because no rumours fly about us!). We work so well together, thinking alike and able to read each other with barely a glance. We laugh and joke, swapping stories and sharing dreams. The rain pours down relentlessly, pelting off the roof and windshield as sheets of water fly up from the passing cars. One of my favourite country songs comes on the radio and Shane obligingly cranks it. I enjoy the moment, staring out the window as I absent-mindedly sip the sweet deliciousness of my mint chocolate iced cappuccino. What better way can there be to spend a rainy afternoon?

I trust my partners.....right?

Somehow in the course of playing patient for the new people last night, I agreed to let John and Roy practice their IV skills on me.

One in each arm.

Simultaneously.

In front of the entire division.

Hrmm, this could be interesting. :P

Poverty

I have never seen the truly poor until today. Growing up rather sheltered in a country environment protected me from the harsh realities that many face every day. Shane and I covered a program for inner-city kids today, a truly amazing program that allows the children a chance to escape into a world of song, dance, and laughter with a solid Christian foundation.

The children were ecstatic, jumping and dancing, laughing and singing. They didn't see the dirty, torn pants, the worn out shoes or the threadbare t-shirts in the crowd. The hunger in their tiny tummies was a part of life; the pizza they were served at the end was an enormous treat. The drug bust up the street was just part of the scenery, the cops blended right into the dilapidated houses.

One child was brought to me, a tiny little boy with big, soulful eyes. He avoided eye contact, just mumbled the he didn't feel well and asked for a drink of water. I crouched to his level and started to talk to him, finding out that he hadn't eaten anything all day. Probably nothing since yesterday morning, one of the program volunteers told me later. She said they always feed the children because they simply can't send them home hungry. I almost cried at this. No child should go hungry, no beautiful little child should be that sad or see that much. I have such a good life, I am truly blessed. I don't have any right in the world to bemoan my strict student budget, I have a warm, clean, comfortable house, every meal I need and endless peace, love and security. I watched the kids happily file out at the end of the day, seriously fighting back tears. Who knows what kind of homes these children are returning to, where their next meal will come from or how long they can sustain those innocent smiles.

Right in my backyard, there are children in need of such help. I have never truly seen poverty until I looked at those faces today. I have learned the statistics in my sanitary, impersonal classrooms; about how this neighbourhood is one of the 10 poorest in Canada and 1 in 3 children in this city live below the poverty line. These were only statistics until I saw them in the faces of the children today. Now they are big brown eyes, impish grins, scraped knees and shy glances. I can't get them out of my head. I don't want to get them out of my head.

My Thoughts Exactly

Standing outside the ambulance at a concert the other night, I watch the excited crowd mill around. The side door opens and Shane pops out, his country-boy grin stretched from ear to ear. I look up at him quizzically, "What's up?" "Did you ever think, a few years ago, that you would be doing this?" He responds. "I mean seriously, I'm hanging out in an ambulance, and not only that, I also know how to use all the stuff inside!" He looks down at his uniform, "Back in high school, I never would've expected myself to be standing here in this uniform, doing this." His grin widens as he begins to lope off. "Anyways, I was just thinking about how cool it is."

I grin as well, I have the exact same thoughts. I am standing there beside the truck, in my awesome uniform, a radio on each hip, stethoscope in my pocket, in charge of this duty. I never would have expected this a few years ago, or back in high school. I love it as much as he does, what an experience it is. I know many people who volunteer out of a sense of duty or to build their resume, I am privileged to do this, first and foremost, because I love it so much. The opportunity to learn these skills, treat patients, and smoothly run a duty is incredible. The thought hits me every now and then as well. This IS cool.

An Odd Shift

Tonight I discovered that two of the EMS legends or whatever you want to call them are indeed true. People are a lot crazier when its a full moon, and going on duty exhausted means you'll have a busy shift.

I went on a very tough bike ride this afternoon, 40 km on some very nasty roads. I only had enough time to grab a milkshake and a few crackers for dinner, then shower and jump into my uniform before I headed to the hockey game. Completely exhausted and with a headache steadily building, I was seriously hoping for a quiet, quiet shift. Turns out that the crowd had other ideas, they were insane tonight!!

Puck to the head first - split the poor guy's ear wide open. It was quite nasty, it looked like a mouth that you could make 'talk', and it was bleeding like mad. We got the bleeding stopped, wrapped it up and sent him to the hospital. On the way back to the first aid room, we (I had a female partner and observer with me) had to fend off at least 3 "Oh, I need CPR" "I'm having a heart attack, I need mouth-to-mouth" comments from creepy men. Seriously, do they think THAT is going to work? It's quite the dilemma I have....do I remain professional and ignore them, or turn around and tell them off? Ok, ok, I always opt for the ignore, but I am tempted to say something instead!

People in general were just weird tonight, the cops kept throwing drunks out and the creepy guy population seemed to have doubled. We couldn't find our second patient, 'something in the eye', though that is not an uncommon occurance. The game went into overtime, just because I was wanting to go home so badly, and the other team scored anyways. Halfway out the doors, we get another call.....groan. An old man had run out of his portable O2 and needed more, so we switched tanks with him and sent him on his merry way. Finally, an hour later than normal, we were able to leave.

After a weirdly busy shift, I am finally able to crash. A very welcome moment, especially since I'm busy all day tomorrow and have a concert - that Shane and I are running - tomorrow night. Time to sleep....