It's been a long week. Well, I only worked 68 hours, so, I guess I can't complain too much. But, I definitely said "hooray for the weekend," when we finally got off around 1300. I have two whole days--TWO DAYS--that I don't know what I am going to do with. What should I do?
Well...tomorrow I am having a meal on Bonnie to celebrate my 24th. So, that's something. Twenty-four. I can rent cars and my insurance premium goes down. ...awesome.
Is it bad that, like holidays, my birthday has just become "another day"? I think that's probably bad.
Anyway, a couple of funny things. First, a true conversation I had earlier yesterday, and--I think--a wonderful little piece of irony.
We, naturally, got a late call. A freaking mile from corporate, so no amount of trucks coming 10-8 could take it off our hands. Luckily, the people who found the patient noticed he was "stiff", so we figured at least we wouldn't be walking into a full cardiac arrest.
When we arrived on scene, we got all the necessary supplies out of the truck and walked to where the patient was reported to be. My partner of the day yanked the monitor from the cot and carried it into the messiest RV I have ever seen in my life. I am pretty sure, if we had run a code, it would've been pretty delayed just getting access. It was horrifying.
So, my partner steps in and looks closely at the man while I lean in from the door with four firefighters crowded around me. Steve gives me the universal he's-dead-head-shake and we call it, signal forty-eight. Even from where I was standing in the doorway, I could see the lividity and the obvious rigor. He was dead.
So, as I am walking our equipment back to the truck to load it, and fire is backing their engine to depart the scene, a man walks up to me saying something I don't quite understand:
"He gonna be okay, huh, precious?"
Huh? See, I was pretty sure everyone who had been on scene when we arrived had looked at the man and could probably figure it out themselves. But, here he was, asking me if he was okay, like our patient was just sleeping and we woke him. Any minute now, he's gonna come on out the RV and do some bid'ness.
So, I say, "I'm sorry?"
He walks closer, and smiling, asks again, "he gonna be okay?"
At this point, because he is smiling, so am I. It's like a weird, baffled, smile that was 100% reaction, 0% thought.
"Um, he's dead." I said, pretty matter-of-factly, still with that stupid smile on my face.
And, it was like magic, the way his face changed, so instantly from jovial to disbelief. The shock was palpable.
"What?! He's dead?! REALLY?! Oh my--really?! Wow." Hands to his mouth, eyes bugging out, staring blankly at the RV wherein his now deceased friend lies. And, there I am, watching, baffled smile still there on my stupid face, still not sure what happened, but pretty sure he was going to fall out.
"Are you going to be okay?" I sputtered, really, really not wanting to run a code today.
"Yeah, no, I'll be okay, baby. I'll be fine...."
Super.
I thought it was funny. Maybe I have a weird sense of humor.
Anyway, I learned today that I can spot anxiety from a mile away.
Well, okay, from a few feet away, but anyway...this ALSO happened earlier:
Pt: I can't see! I can't see!
Me: Sir, take a deep breath for me, okay? In and hold it for a few seconds, then let go. Do that again, and again.
Pt: still freaking out, still hyperventilating, still can't see.
Me: Sir, do you have any medical history? Do you take any medications?
Pt: Yeah. gasp. I've got. gasp I'm a vet. gasp I take. gasp Anxiety and mental stuff. gasp, gasp, gasp.
(REALLY?)
Me: PTSD? And anxiety? Did your doctor give you a medication to take?
Pt: gasp, gasp, gasp Yeah, gasp But I don't gasp Take it.
(REALLY?!)
Me: Okay, sir, I really need you to take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds before letting it go, and try to calm down.
Pt: finally freaking slows respirations.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER:
Pt: I feel better, I don't want to go to the hospital.
My Partner: ...oookay, I guess that's okay, except that we've treated you for some things and you have a tiny catheter in one of your veins...but, we can call someone and you can tell them you don't want to go.
Pt: Yeah, I'm fine now.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, STILL:
My Partner: He didn't want to go. He felt better.
Me: He was having an anxiety attack.
My Partner: Yeah...I didn't even THINK that's what it was, until you just said it to me.
Conclusion: I AM A GENIUS.
Or, I have anxiety. Whatever...same thing.
So, that's it. No cool medical stories today. Essentially, it was a long week, but it was full of people we could do absolutely nothing for.And, now it's over.
I've been awake now for about twenty-two hours, and it was a pretty full day, what with working all morning, hitting the street for some cardio, washing laundry, and meeting new people--I'm tired.
So, goodnight people.
No Damage to the Bandage.
1)Happy 24th!
ReplyDelete2)Ahhh long dead pts. Well at least you had enough sense not to bring them into the hospital emergent.
3)You're alot nicer than me usually I am about panic attacks. Usually I just ask how much crack/cocaine/meth they have done. Your way is much better I'm sure.
4)Dude take it easy on the hours. You won't look back when you get older and say "Man, I wish I worked MORE!" Enjoy life, go out have fun!