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Myself and two other EMTs were hanging out at the firehouse when our pagers go off. A mutual aid to a neighboring town for a diabetic emergency. We hop in the ambulance and go.
The EMT in charge tells me to grab the trauma bag and that we're going to try and run this call as fast as possible. We all agree this would be the best strategy.
Our driver is a firefighter. He's a retired officer and at least 30 years older then all of us. We get to the scene and there are two police officers standing outside on the front lawn. The EMT in charge grabs the PCR book. We enter the house and are greeted by the tell-tale odor of neglect. Our patient is lying in her bed, and easily weighs over 200 pounds. She is groaning and complaining of dizziness and nausea. She is approximately 60 years of age. She has a history of hypertension. She is disoriented and doesn't know where she is. She is a diabetic and has been drinking. We need to move, fast.
One of the EMTs goes out to grab the stair chair. I stay with the EMT in charge and discuss the best way of removing the patient. I am resentful of the police officers and I am resentful of our driver. They are all outside. They all know what the house looks like and smells like. They all know what our patient looks like. They all should be in here, helping.
The room is small, the stair-chair barely fits. There is a dresser and the rest is bed. I climb up onto the bed next to our patient. "Ruth," I say "if I help you will you be able to sit up?" She is disoriented and groans, but we manage to sit her up. I put one of her arms around my neck and lift her up. Somehow we manage to get her out of the house and onto the stretcher.
Ruth is disoriented. She doesn't like the bright lights in the back of the rig. We dim them as much as we can. The EMT in charge radios into the hospital. They want to send us to triage. I remind the EMT to let them know that our patient has a history of diabetes and has been drinking. They take us in the main room instead.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
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