I am not even working full time at EMS yet. I've only done a few ride-outs and one clinical day.
But I've already experienced several odd characters and even odder situations.
My first contact ever with an emergency situation was during a ride-out while I was writing an article for The Buzz. We responded to a call for a patient stopped on the side of the highway with severe indigestion. When we arrived on scene, the EMT and Paramedic I was with performed their assessment and determined the man was not suffering from indigestion but rather, was having a massive heart attack. We loaded him in the ambulance and I did nothing other than hold this guy's hand and spike his IV bag. Other than that, I stayed out of the way and watched helplessly as this grown man cried like a baby at the relentless torturing pain he was enduring.
Once we got to the hospital and he was given some morphine for the pain he was able to relax and speak without much extra effort. I peeked in his room to check on him and he waved me over to him. I grabbed his hand and smiled.
"Honey," he said, "thank you for all you did to help me."
"It was nothing." I replied knowing I didn't do anything really.
"And honey," he began again and paused to breathe.
"Yes?"
"You've got to be the prettiest damned EMT I've ever seen."
And then he called for a trash can so he could throw up.
Then, once I was helping transport a diabetic patient from the hospital back to his nursing home. We were looking over his room making sure we had gathered all his belongings. I asked him,
"Sir, do you need to take anything with you from this room?"
He glanced around the room and then grabbed my arm startling me and said,
"I'd only take you."
I smiled at him once the look of sheer fear left my face. I had no idea Casanova was still making his rounds.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
The EMT (Chronic)les
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Cool Camping Party
So my son turned 6 this past week.
CRAZY, I know!
I wanted to come up with a party that would involve lots of fun activities but without having a bunch of rambunctious little boys all cooped up in a stuffy house. Well, what a better activity than having a camp out?! It was still fairly warm outside so we took it all outdoors and roasted hot dogs and marshmallows on our grill and in our fire pit.
Nice blazing inferno for the children, dad!
*cough* What fun it is *cough* roasting hot dogs. *cough, cough*
Ashley and me. I think we enjoyed the s'mores more than the kids did.
Roasting marshmallows was fun. Few wanted to eat them, they just wanted to roast them and then throw them in the pit and watch them blow up. lol. It was kind of entertaining.
Coloring our camp out backpacks.
Props to a husband who helped to make it all happen by doing such manly things as lighting the fire, operating the grill and handling crowd control.
I was going to make my own camp cake but my oven conveniently went kaput the day before so I had to settle for a Wal-mart clearance cake, (buttercream icing. ICK!). The cake was originally an army theme. So, I took all the army toys off and added the graham cracker tent, the iced sugar cone trees and the pretzel campfire encircled with yogurt covered raisin stones. It was a big hit! 6 candles made the campfire roar!
My little superhero making his big wish. *sniff*
You know momma has to get her birthday kiss in.
Opening the gifts.
This was a gift from his bestest cousin Liam. A picture of the 2 showing their HUGE muscles. It was too cute!
And this was the display of brotherly love afterward. Too cute! (It looks like Liam is choking Garrett but I promise, they were hugging.)
Making homemade trail mix. I lined up leftover pretzels, raisins, gummy worms, coconut, sunflower seeds, nuts, etc. and gave them each a bag to fill with their individualized trail mix snack bag.
This picture just happens to show all girls which I find ironic. All week long Garrett had been asking me, "My party is just for boys, right?" I would reply, "Well, your sisters will be there."
He'd say, "Oh, ok. That's ok, I guess. They can have cake. And you too, Mom. But no other girls, right?" I said, "Well the boys you have invited all have sisters that I'm sure will have to come, buddy." He sighed and reluctantly agreed to their potential presence but not without first proclaiming, "Well, ok. But only the boys will get to play in the tent, right?" I guess when you're surrounded by estrogen on all sides of you at all times and you're as masculine as he is, you beg for some manly birthday time with your bros. lol!
LOL! I thought this was soooo funny!
Everyone with their backpacks and favors. They each got a puppet to make at home, and a little basket filled with a wooden snake, rock bouncy balls, a plastic container with holes on top for catching bugs, a mini flashlight and pop rocks.
Overall, it was probably one of the most successful parties we've thrown. The cake was a hit, the gifts were a hit, and everyone enjoyed themselves to the point of not wanting to leave, adults included!
2 thumbs up!!!
Conversations with a 6 year old...Expanded Edition
My son was spending the night with my mom this last Friday. He was explaining to my mom that he has a hard time remembering which hand is his right and which one is his left. In an attempt to help my son more easily remember which hand was which she says, "Just remember that the hand you WRITE with is your RIGHT hand. And the one that's LEFT is your LEFT hand."
Garrett thinks that's pretty cool except that he remembers something. "But Nana, I can write with both hands." he says.
"Really??", my mom asks him in wonderment.
"Yes", he begins, "but this hand (pointing to his left) is messier. It's not very smart."
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Fright Night is upon us...
Welcome...
Come inside and take a peek at my frightfully fun and fiendish home decor this Halloween season.
This is Belladonna, my witch dog.
Every witch needs the correct ingredients to cast the perfect spell. On my spice rack I have owl egg, scale of dragon, chicken pox, things that go bump in the night, sparkle of moon, wool of bat...
...eye of frog, salted lizard, witch hazel, spider legs, evil powder and lust dust. I also have the remains of the little girl down the lane and a picture of My Pretty, which makes me cackle every time I look at her.
It doesn't really show up in the photo but the back wall is a huge spider web that has some vintage Halloween postcards clipped to it with clothes pins.
And of course, there's Mortimer, the Head Waiter.
I just love this little display!
Looks like something's brewing!
Hope everyone has a Happy Fright Night!!
Thursday, October 1, 2009
October Buzz Article "Those Without Passion Need Not Apply" by Carissa Mason
It’s 3 a.m. and a voice echoes through the static of a scanner in a dark room.
“Standby for medical/fire.”
A few seconds later, a loud piercing tone pummels its way through hallways and shut bedroom doors into the ears of sleeping firemen and EMTs.
This sound is what they know as a desperate cry for help and hearts instantly begin to race. Chris Haworth, a Durant Fireman states, “When our alarms go off, someone is losing or has lost something very important to them.” To which Chase Condor quickly adds, “And we may be the only ones who can save it for them.”
To us, as civilians, the men and women who choose to follow a career path that leads them to EMS, Fire Departments, Police Departments and Highway Patrol are our heroes, our lifelines, and even our last hope. But when asked how they feel about being considered a hero, their response is much more meek and humble than their job description. Collin Gordon, a local Firefighter and Paramedic makes the point, “What if the trash man didn’t do what he is paid to do for us? Someone’s got to do it. This is just another job”, and he shrugs his shoulders.
However, they all agree on one thing in regards to their career of choice, whether it be firefighter, police officer, EMT, or highway patrol, “You can’t do this job if you don’t love it. The pay certainly doesn’t keep you coming back. It’s the love of the work you do that kicks you out of bed in the mornings.” John Vietta, another local fireman and EMT says, “Having someone run up to you in public and give you the biggest hug you’ve ever gotten because they recognized you as the one who helped save them or their family member is worth every penny you lack in salary.”
Sacrifices of all kinds, not just monetary, are made in these fields every day. On July 26th, Dan Lyday was at work at the firehouse. It was his normal shift day. However, it was also his granddaughter’s b-day and he was missing her birthday party. “When your work schedule is 24 hours long at a time, you’re bound to miss meals, holidays, family events, sleep.”
Despite these unpleasant and inconvenient sacrifices, when asked what his favorite part of the job is Terry Courtney, a 13 year paramedic, says “7 a.m. - when I come to work.”
“The job is different everyday”, adds Mindy Gerard. “Working at EMS means I may get to see or treat or deal with something I’ve never seen before. I love that.”
David McCutcheon, an Oklahoma State Trooper, says his favorite part of Highway Patrol is keeping the people in this county safe.
It is a rigorous job that requires someone to work 24 hours at a time or throughout an entire night when most others they know are tucked safely in their beds. Sure, there are days/nights when the tones and pagers are silent. No one needs help. No one needs saving. Those times are overshadowed by others that are filled non-stop with emergency calls. Jay Bergner, 36 year old EMT and firefighter who has been fighting fires since the age of 18 comments, “There are nights when we don’t sleep at all. That can be very dangerous, not only to us and our partner, but to a patient as well.”
The absolute toughest part of the job and what takes the most toll on them, they will all tell you unanimously, is dealing with death. Death of any kind is hard, but especially that of children and infants. John Vietta, a 6’4” 265 lb. self-proclaimed ‘teddy bear’, says of facing death: “It’s always hard. I’m a little soft around the edges and when I’ve dealt with something especially traumatic, you may very well see me sitting on the back of the truck crying after it’s all over.”
It is because of those trying times, the harsh realities hitting so close to home, the moments of sheer joy when a life is saved, the close calls, the tokens of gratitude from individuals who have been touched by these unsung hometown heroes that are what have molded these individuals into who they are today. Trooper Mike Green states simply, “I’ve learned compassion towards others.” While preparing to wash his patrol car one evening before his shift began, an elderly man approached Trooper Green with $3 worth of quarters and said, “Here’s a little token of my appreciation for the work you do. Thank you.” And the gentleman hobbled away. It was a small gesture, but appreciated immensely by the recipient. “It’s those little moments of surprise that make my job great!”
September Buzz article: "The Heart of the Matter" by Carissa Mason
It was a warm Saturday evening of July in a dimly lit turnabout in Nicaragua of 2007 when Jeff Hamblin and Raquel Aburto, the translator who was traveling with him, were mugged. On their way back to their hotel after a long week of missionary work and a final dinner of authentic local Nicaraguan cuisine, they found themselves in a shady side of town. Jeff had phoned his wife back in the States to tell her of his morning flight arrangements when two young boys approached them, one from the side and one from behind. The translator looked at Jeff and said in a slightly frantic tone of voice, ‘Jeff, hang up the phone!’ He looked down to see a gun at his waist and immediately flipped it closed.
When Jeff obediently hung up and handed the cellphone he was talking on over to the two teenagers, he didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to his lovely wife. The barely 15 year old thieves then ripped off the phone he was carrying conveniently on his belt. A taxi driver just down the block happened to catch a glimpse of the commotion and drove over to the scene to help. The two boys fled leaving Jeff and the translator in shock and disbelief. Did that really just happen?
From there, they filed a police report on the stolen items. His flight back home was in less than 12 hours. The local police were as cooperative as donkeys on a rocky uphill slope and 3 hours later he was finally making his way back to the hotel.
Meanwhile, back in the States, his wife, Laura, who heard Raquel tell Jeff to hang up the phone, paced frantically in her home praying for a return call and fighting off thoughts of the worst kind. 10 minutes passed and panic turned to all out fear. The slight clap of the phone being hung up on her was still screaming in her ear. She kept remembering the unmistakable sound of Raquel’s ghostly words “Jeff, hang up the phone” and intuition whispered to her all was not well. She managed to find a way to call the hotel where Jeff was staying only to hear from his traveling companions that he had not returned. It was all becoming very overwhelming and Laura couldn’t handle it all on her own anymore. She called her family over for moral support and mighty prayer.
2009 marks Jeff Hamblin’s 12th mission trip to
They’ve even helped establish an orphanage called Los Ninos Del Ray or Children of the King, where at one time they housed more than 50 needy children.
“Imagine how difficult it would be if you had to come to me and ask me to take your baby into my orphanage because you’re 30 years old, you have 4 children, your husband is dead or ran off on you, and you know in your heart that you cannot take proper care of your baby or she’ll die.” Jeff’s eyes turn red around the edges as he describes the scenario that unfolds in my mind like a pop-up book and I can’t help but envision myself in that situation. My heart creeps up in my throat. I am 30 and have 4 children of my own.
However, the orphanage struggles under the jurisdiction of the government for the simple fact that if an abusive and/or drug addicted parent wants their child back all they have to do is tell a judge and their wish is granted. Because of this fault in the Nicaraguan political society, the orphanage is down to less than 10 children now. The others have been returned to their dysfunctional and sometimes dangerous previous home lives.
Despite the fact that for 12 years Jeff and The Church of Christ Medical Brigade have donated their time, money and professional services to the people of
One of his fondest memories originates from his 2004 mission trip. A brand new mother comes in to the clinic with her husband and their 3 month old baby. The baby boy is ill and has been born with a deformity. His face is only half developed. With only one eye, half a jaw, and an ear lobe that connects nearly to his chin, the parents plead for Jeff to fix him. He is gray in color, not the vibrant pink color associated with healthy newborn babies. Jeff takes his stethoscope and listens to the boy’s heart. He hears what sounds like “a washing machine running in the boy’s chest.” The heart is a mess of holes and murmurs. Jeff sighs deeply and shakes his head, looks up into the mother’s hopeful eyes and says drearily, but as compassionately as possible as Raquel translates for him, “I can fix him for his funeral.” The parents nod, lower their eyes to look at their baby boy and the mother says something in Spanish as Raquel repeats in English, “That’s all they want.”
He performed a primitive plastic surgery on the boy and removed part of his earlobe and remedied various other abnormalities before handing the bundle of very sick little boy back to his disheartened parents.
Last year, as Jeff was walking in downtown
He got to see the man’s nephew, his former patient, shortly thereafter. What he saw amazed him. This was not the same boy. 4 years old and smiling from ear to ear. His skin was no longer gray. Jeff couldn’t resist. He took his stethoscope and listened to the boy’s heart. He then gave the stethoscope to his colleagues and demanded they listen. The “washing machine heart” had miraculously transformed into a smooth and clear rhythm.
As I listened to Jeff tell this heartwarming story I realized my eyes were bulging in disbelief and my mouth was hanging open. I couldn’t help but ask, “How did his heart fix itself?” Jeff’s response without delay: “God is good.” I mentally reprimanded myself for such a silly question and commended his simple, yet profound answer.
God IS good. He takes care of those who take care of His children. The situation in 2007 could have been as detrimental to Jeff and Raquel as the “washing machine heart” could have been to the 3 month old little boy. Instead, both walked away with their lives. The old saying, ‘What goes around comes around’ resonates in my head right now.
