It’s pure awesomeness when you find out a respected blogger, *coughRogueMediccough*, enjoyed a post so much that he went and wrote an answer to it.  It is quite humbling and awesome all at the same time.  Thank you, RM.

Here’s the link to the article.

Anywho.

So, I was sitting at the EMS Base getting some paperwork done when I heard a car accident dispatched.  At the end of the list of Engines, Rescue Trucks, and Ambulances, I heard something very peculiar that I hadn’t heard before…or just hadn’t paid attention to.

“A Helicopter has also been dispatched and is enroute.  Company 99 for a LZ at SmallTown Elementary, approximately 10-15 minutes until HEMS reaches the LZ.”

I scratched my head, very confused.  It was almost routine back home, for accidents that happened out in Farm Country, for a Helicopter to be put on standby if it sounded bad, i.e; “Medic 234, your being dispatched for a 18 year old male, leg ripped off by a Combine.  XYZ Helicopter is on standby, flight time of 20 minutes after activation.” Out there, the nearest Level 3 hospital could be easily an hour if not more away from the scene, let alone the nearest Trauma Center.  Here, we may not have the best hospital in the world, but we sure as anything have a hospital within 30 minutes from anywhere in the county to a Lvl 2 a bit over an hour away.

When the first unit got on scene, it was discovered that, while there were injuries, they were easily handled by the ambulances that were arriving.  There was no need for the helicopter, but it sat probably no more than a quarter mile from the accident scene just to take off again and return to quarters.

When one of the units that responded returned to the barn, I asked about when HEMS started getting dispatched from the start.

“Oh…it’s all about the Mechanism of Injury. If the accident looks or sounds bad, that means the patients are probably hurt real bad.”

I wanted to cringe, shudder, and cry all at the same time.  Coming in as a Medic, I get to see what many young-in-the-field providers are learning as they leave EMT school versus what they pick up along the way.  The trend is leaning towards MOI.  I can remember sitting in EMT class, learning about MOI and I will always remember my instructor preaching:

“It’s not how crumpled the vehicle looks, it’s about how crumpled the patient looks.”

All too often, I hear providers on the radio screeching for extra medical units prior to even getting on scene.  Yes…rollover accidents can be devastating, but I personally know more people who have walked away from a rollover crash with barely a scratch on them than have had serious injuries.  The flip side to this argument is that I also know several people who have been in comparatively minor accidents but have broken multiple bones and required long term stays in the hospital versus not.

MOI is a relatively small part of the grand trauma picture.  It can give you an idea of what to look for, but it can only be a very rough guide as to what’s going on under the surface.  When I get the chance to teach, I liken MOI to frosting on a cake.  You know by glancing at it if the frosting itself is vanilla, chocolate, or another flavor, but just like MOI, it doesn’t tell you what is going on under the frosting.

The preaching of MOI as a deciding factor in treating Trauma Patients seems to be most prevalant in areas where a Trauma Hospital isn’t within driving distance.  Unfortunately, instead of teaching new providers the difference between a legitimate trauma and something a local hospital could take care of, they teach them to look at the vehicles for intrusion into the passenger compartment, ‘starring’ on the windshield, deformed dash/steering wheel, or total vehicle body damage.  Watching a bunch of EMTs getting their panties in a bunch over seeing some inside a car with a torn up fiber glass fender and suddenly the patient is being boarded and collared for a several thousand dollar helicopter ride to the local Trauma Center, only to be released an hour later with a Snoopy Bandaid on their forhead covering a small cut from a piece of glass.

It can’t be completely blamed on the provider, though.  You also run into the situation where the local hospital does what they can to discourage “bad” patients.  Some of the local hospitals acted like they never saw a broken arm before.  The other “signal” is how the hospital staff interract with the crews.  To a young EMT or Medic, a nurse/doctor/tech who blasts the provider for bringing a sick patient in…even if the hospital staff is just having a bad day…is a deterent.

In the end, education is what is needed to change the mentality of MOI is the deciding factor in treating patients.  We as providers need to be proactive in teaching that MOI is part of the problem, but not the whole thing.

Happy Teaching,

MT.

Warning: Pretty emotional with racial slurs.  Giving you pretty advanced warning.

“Medic 390, come back to base…”

“That’s received. Thank you dispatch…”

I smiled and winked at my partner, Beth. “And this is how you get to sit in the relative comfort of the station on Saturday, answering county calls instead of sitting out on the side of the road waiting for a nursing home call.” She pulled the ambulance onto the highway and she smiled over at me.

 “Teach me, Master.” We laughed, turning up the music in the truck as we made our way to the station. Beth was the first female partner I had ever worked with that I had gotten along with. From the moment we were partnered together, it was perfect harmony. It was my first time working at a For-Profit ambulance company and the company didn’t do anything to dissuade my opinion of For-Profits’; the equipment was at best sub par. The trucks barely made it through a shift and we wondered just how they passed inspection. The unit we were in by far was the best; it was a Type Three that could haul balls when needed. We affectionately called her Betsy as we trolled the streets shift after shift.

 She had a working heater in both the back and front and her windows for the most part worked. We treated her well, and she returned the favor in kind. As we pulled into the back parking lot, I gathered my things. Among them was several large containers of diet Iced Tea, the local variety. It was my gift to the dispatcher. I learned early in the new company that simple bribes of coffee, food, and drinks could keep me in the comfort of the station running emergency calls instead of doing non-emergency transports. I had a running deal with the Saturday dispatcher; my partner and I banged out all four dialysis transfers, both dropping them off by 0600 and picking them up and having them back at their respective nursing homes by 1230, and we picked up her daily Iced Tea and cigarettes on our way back in to the station, and we’d get to cover the 911 calls while the other two units covered the nursing homes.

 It worked out in everyone’s’ favor. Too many times, dialysis patients were dropped off late and picked up late, and both the dialysis centers and nursing homes were getting angry. Saturdays afforded the company only three crews and one had to be available at all times to cover the city. In one weekend, when we were down to just ourselves and one other crew, we did all the dialysis transfers in record time. In one moment, we made the dispatcher happy and in turn, she did the same.

 As I gave up my offering to the dispatch deity, I checked the scheduled transport board. It was double scheduled as usual; there were four pick-ups scheduled at the exact same time. I didn’t want to do any of them, but I turned and said with a half hearted smile.

 “Hey…Beth and I can bang out the two transports that are just right over the bridge if we can pick up the one at SMC fifteen to twenty minutes early. Traffic isn’t that bad, so we should be able to drop the one off and get the other one with a minute to spare.”

 Lisa, the dispatcher, shook her head, “Sorry. Per Chris you cover the city. After last week when you two helped to clear up the drama that was Saturday, he’s mandated that the three crews that were on Saturday do nothing but cover the city when they’re on. Looks like you get a break.”

 Who says busting your ass doesn’t get you anywhere.

 We sat in the main room and I went through my drug box. The lull that I was graciously afforded allowed me to go through my drug box with a fine tooth comb. There had been a rash of thefts from the communal drug boxes stored on the trucks so everyone was issued their own personal box. The drugs were handed out with care when it came to the narcotics, but I had noticed some of the others were missing one or two that were supposed to be there. I had backups in my main bag, but I wanted to make sure I had the perfect number in my drug box.

 Beth was planning on going to Medic Class, so we sat together and I gave her a run down on the drugs, explaining how they were used. She started to take notes, but I gently reminded her that, while it was flattering, I would trust what her teacher explained over myself; she was going to a different school and I did not want her to memorize my explanation when she was given another. As we sat, I heard the Bat-Phone ring. The Bat-Phone was the line that came directly from 911. I heard Lisa begin to take information. Suddenly, her voice rose a bit and she began to ask all the important questions pertaining to a shooting. We hurriedly packed up the box and I grabbed the dispatch sheet while Lisa input the information into the computer.

 “I got the address. Cops there?”

 “Yeah, go!”

 I nodded quickly and disappeared. As I locked my seat belt into place, I heard the radio crackle.

“Medic 390, respond emergency to the corner of Oxford and Richmond for the shooting. Police on scene, scene is secured.”

 We took off and it didn’t take us long to get to our destination. Our entrance was halted by nearly 12 squad cars. We grabbed the necessary equipment and the Reeves’ stretcher, and we took off at a run. I could see the victim laying face down on the concrete and my heart sank in my chest and I slowed down. His white shirt was bright red, and the puddle of congealed blood around him was huge. People with any chance of survival didn’t look like that. As we got to his side, I shook my head; half of his head was gone. I took a three lead to show the Asystole, but it was quite obvious that there was nothing I could do even if I wanted to. I took the sheet from the Reeves’ pack, and I laid it over him. I shook my head, looking up at the cops.

 “I’m callin’ it at 1456, but let me get on the horn with Command and I’ll get you a Doc’s name and authorization.” I got on the phone and within moments, we got the authorization to call it officially. As we cleaned up, one of the cops motioned for me. He pointed to a woman who was being stopped by a group of officers.

 “That’s his mom. Can you get her into the truck so we can tell her?” I nodded and helped them escort her to the ambulance. Once inside, they told her the bad news. I sat in the front, trying to distract myself from hearing them break the news. The primal howl of sheer sadness emulated from the truck. I felt uncomfortable, vulnerable, and voyeuristic. I got out of the ambulance and leaned against it, my head hanging. When asked what part of the job gets to me, I reference this moment, the moment of giving bad news.

 Beth and I stood around near the back of the truck, waiting to be told what to do. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone come running from a house, then I heard her. We immediately moved into the middle of the street, and we watched a woman run screaming up the street, right into the arms of the cop.

 “Let me see him!”

 “Ma’am…we can’t, we just can’t…it’s a crime scene…” More and more people poured from their houses, watching the scene unfold before them. We moved to the growing cluster of cops as the woman started screaming and crying.

 “What happened?!” The cop explained that he had been shot. She looked at him, then at the growing crowd of locals, then to me. She stood on her own two feet, and she began ranting. Her words were like venom as she poured out her heart, screaming her promise of vengeance upon those who did this to her family member. She then looked at me. I was easily identifiable as Medical. She came to me, her face inches from mine. I stood, my face taking on a look of compassion.

 “And you…” she growled, “You didn’t help him…”

 “Ma’am…there was nothing I could do…” She growled again, putting her index finger in my chest. My temper rose a bit.

 “No, you didn’t help him, because you don’t like white people, you stupid, ignorant, nigger…”

 She then spit in my face.

 My clipboard fell from my hands. I turned my head, looking at Beth. Her eyes were wide. Everyone waited for me to do something, anything.

 “Beth. You have any of those 4 by 4′s we grabbed on the way here?”

 She nodded. I held out my hand to her. She tore open one of the packages and placed the white cotton square in my hand. I took it and I folded it around my index finger. I slowly wiped the spit off my face, looking dead at the woman. No one moved. I had a reputation as being a hardcore hard ass; you mess with myself or my crew in any physical way, it wouldn’t be long before we were all jumping in on the dog pile. I had been spit on once before with disastrous results for the person who did as such.

 You could see the officers rest their hands near their tasers. I looked at the woman again, my eyes narrow, and I pocketed the 4×4.

 “Beth…” I started, never taking my eyes off the woman, “Let’s run back to the station. I need to organize myself for a moment, get paperwork started.” She nodded quickly and began walking back to the truck. Me asking to organize myself and to do paperwork was our code for, ‘We need to get the hell out of Dodge.’ I motioned to one of the cops and told him we would be back in a few moments. We both hopped into the ambulance and we rode back to the station in silence. As we arrived, pulling up to the dispatch office, I walked inside and directly to the supply closet. I pulled out a new uniform shirt and I hurriedly pulled it over my shoulders.  I needed to collect myself.  I pulled a cigarette from the pack and I sat outside, taking slow, deep breaths.  I was tired.

 The Bat Phone rang again, and Lisa grabbed it. I listened to her talk with the person on the other end and she began shaking her head. She wrote some information down on a sheet of scrap paper, and she handed it off.

“Hand Injury, not too far from your scene. PD will be there if you need them; they’re body-sitting until the ME and Detectives get there.”

 I pulled out the map-book and I looked at the address. We were no more than a block away from the original scene. If I scream loud enough, I’m sure someone will get there…I slammed the map-book shut, throwing my stethoscope around my neck. I looked at Lisa and Beth, my face filled with determination.

“Let’s do this.”

“Dispatch from Medic 390.”

 “Go ahead.”

 “Any word on the ME and Dectectives?”

“None…will advise when they are on scene.”

As we pulled up, one of the cops walked up to me, his hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet, making him look even younger than the 23 he was.

“Hey, um…some guy in that house is asking for medical. He punched a wall and we think he broke his hand.”

 I nodded. “You coming with me?” He looked even more sheepish as he dug his toe into the concrete and nodded. “We all are. That’s the loco puta’s house. She’s tearing the house apart from the inside, and we figured you didn’t want to go it alone, especially because of her last performance.”

 I nodded and grabbed our Jump Bag. I handed the clipboard to Beth and we walked towards the house, picking up straggling cops as we went. By the time we got to the door, we had almost a dozen cops with us. We walked inside, and I saw the same woman who had spit on me, laying on the ground, sobbing. She stopped as she heard us come in and she keyed in on me.

 “Why is that…that…that thing here!?” She screeched, pointing at me. “Get out! Out out out!”

 I had enough.

 “LOOK!” I shouted. The woman stopped her mantra, staring at me. “I am the Paramedic on duty. I am here to help your brother. He asked for help, you didn’t. I don’t care what you have to say. As far as I’m concerned, you can leave the room, or I can have the police escort you out. Your choice.”

 “I don’ want no niggers in my house!” She stood up and stormed up the steps. I grit my teeth, nearly giving myself a headache in the process. The womans’ mother came around the corner with her surviving son, who’s hand was severely broken. We sat him down in the kitchen so I could get a better look at his hand.

 “She’s not like this…” The Mother began. “I swear, she’s a good girl, she’s just very upset right now.” I nodded as I wrapped the kids’ hand. He didn’t want to go to the ER until the situation was sorted out with his brother. I understood completely. I continued to wrap his hand, cracking an ice pack for him to use.

 “I get that.” I started with a calm voice. “Which is why I kept my calm. Grief does nasty things to you. It doesn’t give her the right to do some of the things she has done today, but it makes it understandable, at least from my side of things.” I got on the phone and with both mother and son promising to go to the ED the minute things were sorted out, and explaining the situation to the command doctor. He granted the refusal. I sat there, and I gave mom the once over, checking vitals to make sure she was medically okay as well. As I did so, I heard footsteps coming down the steps. We all turned to see the woman standing on the steps, her eyes burning holes into my chest.

 “I want those…” She pointed to a bunch of bananas sitting in the middle of the table. “I don’ want that Georgia Porch Monkey to eat ‘em!” I sat there for a moment, then I picked up the bananas and handed them to the nearest cop. She recoiled in horror from them, as if I had left the scent of a demon on them that would possess her if she touched them. She smacked the bananas’ from the hand of the cop and stormed back up the steps. I closed my eyes and I shook my head. Standing, I bid my good-byes to the family. As I put the gear back on the truck, Beth watched as I closed the doors and hopped into the passenger seat. She got in, putting the truck into drive, and we headed back for the station.

 “Why…do people still act like that, Shao? We’re in the 2000′s now, not the 1900′s.” I leaned my head back against the seat, closing my eyes.

 “For as long as I live and breathe, in the eyes of a small minority of people, I will always be seen as a second class citizen because of the color of my skin. Even now, in this era, it’ll always be the same way it was less than a hundred years ago. No matter where I work, I will always come up on one person who can’t get their head out of the past. In the end, I do my job and continue on. There is nothing I can do, or would be able to do, to change their minds. It is how it is. The best thing you and I can do is continue on, doing what we do best, and that is to help our fellow man, no matter what they look like or who they are.”

 I adjusted in my chair, “I could’ve not gone in and helped that kid in that house, I had every right to deem it unsafe and that we weren’t going in. That was my right. But what type of people would we be, if we punished that kid for something stupid his sister did in the heat of the moment. I take my job as a Paramedic seriously, Beth. Someone calls for help, I answer it, no matter what color you are, what Deity you pray to, or what gender you decide to share your bed with. I am a firm believer in that, everyone has a bit of good inside them. Does that make me naive? yeah, probably, but it makes bitter pills like that girl back there easier to swallow.”

 I smiled at Beth, pushing the feelings of insecurity and self doubt down. I acted like those words didn’t mean anything to me, like water off a ducks’ back, when in reality, each time she used a slur against me, it hurt more than any bullet, knife, or can of mace she could’ve used against me.  It was a while before I felt completely normal again.

 

Day 5.

Day 5 was the hardest day.  We had packed up the night before so that we could get to the convention center when it opened to maximize our time on the floor.  There were a few different vendors I wanted to make sure I got contact information for to take back to my home service, but most of all, I had some people that I had to say Adios to.  It had been a long but fun week; it was amazing just how much I realized I was going to miss everyone.

As I moved through the various vendors for the last time, I caught up with many my newfound friends.  We laughed and smiled, reminiscing about the last week and making plans to see each other soon.  The last place I stopped was the Zoll Booth where I got to see Justin Schorr and Sam Bradley once more.  I started grabbing pictures with some of the various bloggers that started gathering, then, as if by divine intervention, an idea came to us; Group Photo.

I have never gone to one of those in-store, insert your SD card and print out a photo places, but when I got home from Baltimore, it was my first trip.  I printed out a few photos to frame and have on my wall at home.

 

This is my favorite shot.  I think I started blubbering like a fool about 20 minutes after this picture was taken.  It was amazing how much I realized I’d miss everyone in this picture. 

I hope I get to see everyone again in August at EMS Expo in Las Vegas and at other, various events through the year.  I miss you guys!

This is where I’m leaving this post. 

Love you guys!

Have fun and be safe.

~MT~

My dad had heart surgery at 0600 yesterday morning.

I’m approximately 300 miles away from his bedside.

Helpless and scared didn’t come close to describing how I felt yesterday.  To say I felt helpless, alone, scared, worried, terrified, panicked, and absolutely insane still doesn’t come close to describing how I felt and still feel.  I put on a brave face; I’m Medic Shao Trommashere, nothing ruffles my feathers.  In the face of turmoil, I am the one who keeps a smile on her face and a light word on her lips.  I consoled my mother, grandmother, and uncle; answering all their questions, making lighthearted jokes at what was going on.

Every time I hung up the phone or closed my laptop, I grabbed my ragged Mickey Mouse, a present my father gave to me the day they brought me home from my foster family 23 years ago, held it close and bawled my eyes out.  I wanted nothing more than to be next to my father, holding his hand, and telling him how much I love him.  I felt such a fear that I would never see him again, talk to him again that it was a visceral pain.  I didn’t know who to talk to; everyone seemed to be having such a good day which is such a rarity these days that I didn’t want to bring anyone down, so I played Paramedic; I put all my emotions in a nice, neat little box wrapped in ribbon until I had time to deal with it.  Forgive me if this post is disjointed, but crying and typing usually doesn’t work out very well.

My father and I have a very…unusual father-daughter relationship.  Like most only children, I had him wrapped around my finger from the moment he saw me.  I was adopted just before I turned a year and a half old.  One of the first pictures of my father and I is of us sitting on the couch, watching a football game.  In one shot, he’s holding me in his arms, both of us smiling.  The next, I am reaching up for his hat.  The last, I am now wearing his hat and he’s looking at me the way a father looks at his child, the apple of his eye.

We never had mushy gushy moments.  Well…we did, but in the Trommashere sense of the words mushy gushy. My father taking me fishing and us talking about how to catch fish, how best to tie a hook, which lures to use in the water, then how to clean and cook our catch was our code for, “I Love You.”  Talking Football, Baseball, Cooking, and work were also our ways of communicating.  We may not come right out and say it, but we know what each other is trying to say.

Years prior, my father collapsed in our kitchen.  I was 14.  I had just taken my first CPR class not even three weeks prior.  He wasn’t breathing well enough to be effective and he barely had a pulse.  At 14, I did what I could.  At the time, my father weighed in at just under 300lbs; I barely tipped the scales at 120.  The 911 dispatcher hung up on me, saying, “The medics’ will be there soon…”

I did CPR on my dad, in my kitchen at 0230 in the morning with my mum bawling her eyes out.  It was discovered that the pharmacy made an error when filling his prescription.  They added a zero where they shouldn’tve and he received nearly quadruple the dose of a medication.  When he came to, the first words out of his mouth were, “My fucking chest hurts…”  Sheepishly, I stood up and told him I did CPR on him and I broke a rib in the process.  His response, “Good on ya…” and he fell asleep.  Three days later, the morning after they let him out of the hospital, he made Chocolate Chip Pancakes, fresh squeezed Orange Juice, and Bacon for me.  I sat at the kitchen table and we ate in silence.  As we cleaned up, he patted me on the shoulder and said, “Thanks for the broken rib.”

In Dad-speak, he was telling me he loved me.

My father was always there for me.  I can’t count how many times I’d come home from school bawling my eyes out because the boy of my dreams (for that week) kissed another girl, or I got a bad score on a test I tried really hard to study for, or I didn’t get asked to the dance, and my dad would be there for me, telling me that it was no big deal; the boy of my dreams would never make me cry and if he did, my father would make him cry, one bad score wouldn’t ruin an entire year of good scores, and the music they played at school dances was crappy anyways.  He worked hard to make sure I could do anything and everything I wanted, yet he still found time to be there for every Track Meet, Fencing Match, Cheerleading Competition, and Science Fair. 

It’s hard to think about my father being ill.  He’s always been unnaturally healthy for as long as I can remember.  Even after serving as a Marine in Vietnam, jumping out of a third story window to escape a house fire, a near fatal accidental overdose, and having me as a daughter, he has always been healthy.

I have also always been there.

I never once thought there wouldn’t be a next time…

…I had to think about it now.

I went through today, focusing on the craziness in Japan, calling my friends over there to do my own PAR check.  I worked the dog, trying to put my heart in it.  We had just moved onto a big portion of training and I was just so frazzled that I was kind of glad when TWP started showing signs of being tired.  I gave him the ‘All Done’ signal and we were done.  I thought of everything that I had never said to my dad; each time I could’ve said ‘I Love You’. I also feared for the only two big things left in my life that I know my father is looking forward to; giving me away at my wedding and meeting his grandchild or grandchildren.  I look forward to the day when I can walk down the aisle on my fathers’ arm so he can ‘give me away’ to the man of my dreams.  I look forward to the day when he gets to be called ‘Granddad’.

Around 7 or 8 this evening, I honestly can’t remember, my mum called me.  She said my dad pulled through just fine; he’s more upset at the fact that they shaved his chest and gave him a Foley than anything else.  I got to speak with him for a few minutes.  His voice was hoarse from chewing on plastic, but he sounded fine.  He asked about my Fire Fighting class, (“Fine…got to break some shit today…”), how Baltimore was, (“It was fun.  I didn’t get to go on the boats this year, but maybe next time…”), and when I was coming home, (“Not sure.  Have lots of classes and stuff…”). 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.  I had tears streaming down my face and I was trying not to sniffle too loudly in the phone.  I heard him yawn and move around, muttering angrily at the ECG Stickies.  He then said, “So.  I…uhm…I have a new bottle of wine and a new recipe…oh yeah, I got some more Miles Davis, Prince, and that Temptations CD you were raving about.  Can’t wait until you come home so we can cook together.  I miss that.  We cooked every holiday together for the last how many years.  So…can’t wait to cook with you again. I got a new set of knives that I think you’d like…”

I stopped him, laughing through my tears, “I love you too, Dad. Now, go to bed.”

He sighed, then hung up.

********

PS, Dad.  I love you.

Before I get into the goings’ on of Day 4, I want to re-cap something very cool that happened Thursday Night.

Thursday was the big JEMS FireEMS Blogs Meetup at Uno’s.  I arrived early, finding a place at the bar and starting off the evening right by having a Yuengling and reading my Nook.  People started flowing in, but I had to keep track of the time; the next morning was the Cook-Off and the team wanted to have a last minute run-through of what was going to happen.  As I sat, I saw A.J Heightman wander in.  I went and said hello.  It was then he saw THE trauma shears.  I had already asked for one picture with him and he then asked if he could take a picture with me and The Shears.

I was absolutely honored, hell, I was tickled pink.  I have been reading JEMS for as long as I can remember, so it was an absolute honor that Mr. Heightman even knew who Medic Trommashere was.  Needless to say, I had a smile on my face a mile wide.  I can think of four or five photos taken while at EMSToday that I absolutely love and that is right up there.

Day Four was a busy day.  It was the day of the Cook-Off.  We had way too much fun cooking.  Working against Chris Montera and Carissa O’Brien was a lot of fun.  The friendly banter between our two teams was just awesome.  Everyone did a fantastic job on their respective dishes.  Each and every one of them was something I would have devoured if I had the opportunity to.  Waiting for the results, I got to really dive into the sights and sounds of the Exhibit Hall. 

I saw a lot of products I had seen the year before.  The first place I stopped was to acquire something that I had been looking for since last year; UFO Response Kit.  A company that makes some of the better quality High Visibility Vests also created the infamous “Department Asshole” vest and a bright, dayglow green bag marked UFO Response Kit.  As a sales gimick, it worked.  As anyone who knows me well enough would tell you, I love quirky, fun things like that, so it was something I wanted to have and badly.  I had picked up the vest last year, and I got the bag this year.

Another interesting sight was from an Italian company that showcased a new style of backboard.  It was your standard backboard with a twist; a portion of the adult backboard is removable and the section is a Pediatric backboard.  Flip that particular section over and you have an infant backboard, designed specifically for the way an infants’ head should rest to keep the airway aligned.  The backboard also came with, and I thought this was the coolest portion, a set of spider straps that had a Broslow Tape printed on it.  That in itself was absolutely ingenious, but putting three backboards in the space of one was even better.  The small backboard was also more narrow, compensating for the thin bodies of our smallest patients.

How often do we break out the Pedi-board? Besides, how small is that Pedi board? It works great for any kid under the age of two and a half…maybe…but anything bigger than that and it can leave us scratching our heads if we don’t have a short board.  Even the short boards are a little too short for your kids that are tall for their age, but are still too small for an Adult board.  It also came with a HID that was adjustable; you pulled out the middle section between the head blocks, moved the head blocks in, and voila! Perfect for the smaller head of our peds patients.

Another good vendor was selling some of the coolest handles and blades on the market.  They make handles that are perfect for those with smaller hands.  They are also slimmer than your standard handle, making the need for the super skinny pediatric handle almost unnecessary.  The light at the end of the blade is very VERY bright; you could light up your patient and half the room with the bulb.  The bulb is also fixed into the blade which helps to calm the fear of that bulb falling off into the patients’ throat.  They also sell stylettes that glow under the black light that is also built into the blade.  All in all, if I could, I’d have a set of these blades and handles. 

I saw a lot of Intubation Blade companies going for Hybrid blades this year.  I have faith in the concept, but not necessarily in the delivery.  I had the opportunity to play with some of the blades this year.  One of the hybrid blades, in my opinion, is a poor blade.  The concept is sound, but in the actual design of the blade is poor.  I’m not going to bash any particular company by name, but I just don’t like the blade.  The design is poor; it acts like an oversized Miller without the lenght long enough to actually sit on the epiglottis to keep it up and out of the way.  It sits in the valecula, but is just a few centimeters too long, and it pushes the epiglottis down over the vocal cords.  Unless you rock your wrist back to intubate, which as we all know is very poor form, all it does is make your intubation ten times harder than it should be.

I saw many other hybrid blades that were incredible and ingenious in their design.  They took all the good qualities of each blade and made an even cooler blade.  As a lover of Mac blades, I found myself falling in love with a blade that was shaped very much like a Miller, but had just enough of a curve to get the tongue up and out of the way.  It also sat in the valecula nicely, but if during your approach, you put it in far enough to sit on the epiglottis, it kept the little flap of tissue up and out of the way, even when using proper intubation skills.  It was an incredible,  incredible blade.

I also stopped by some of the ambulances to see what the newest ideas are for ambulance design.  The trend seems to be taking out the bench seat in favor of one or two moveable ‘Airway Seats’.  I also noticed the change in seatbelts; more in favor of the racing harness style or the shoulder/lap belt combo versus just the lap belt. 

 The only thing I didn’t like about the new seating arrangement is the fact that, to make up for the moveable seats, the stretcher was further away from the “bench seat area”.  Ambulance manufacturers are trying desperately to figure out a way to keep the providers from being made into missiles in the back of an ambulance if an accident occurs, but with the lack of mobility while being in a seatbelt/harness, the safety restraint system will continue to be the least used piece of equipment on an ambulance.  I think a Hare Traction Splint gets used more than the seatbelts.

I have seen some seatbelt systems that are on a retractable cord, similar in design to a cord reel or the little leashes you see people walking their little Pomeranians or Poodles on.  They give the provider the mobility in the back to move about as needed, but in the instance of a crash, in theory, it’ll keep the provider stuck to their sear or even pull the provider back to keep them from being the world’s biggest pinata.

All in all, the products this year were going in a good direction.  I really didn’t see any products that made me go, “WTF?”  The other hot button product were cooling vests/wraps/helmets/ect.  It’s obvious that people are trying to figure out the easiest way for providers to impliment the Theraputic Hypothermia.  With the vests, c-collars, body wraps, and so on and so forth, it won’t be long before every jurisdiction will have the ability to cool down their patients when needed.

After wandering around the Exhibit hall for a while, the cook off results were in: We won!  It was such an incredible feeling.  So next year, I’m going to be there with bells on.  Winning the cook-off scored us Gold Passes for next year.  Needless to say, I want it to be Feb. 28th, 2012 as soon as possible.

Now, it was time to go back to the hotel and relax.  It was the last night I was going to be spending in Baltimore.  I started thinking about all the new friends I had made, or the friends that I found myself getting closer to.  It was truly as if we had all known each other for years.  I didn’t want to leave my new friends.  It felt like a party that was ending way too soon.  We had one more day, then we all had to go back to our respective lives….

…it was going to be a long night.

Part 5: “The Long Goodbye…”

“The Day I Danced with Britney Squeals…”

Day Three.

Day Three once again started with a wonderful breakfast provided by the Mount Vernon Hotel staff.  The day was jam packed; a morning and a bit of the afternoon exploring the Inner Harbor, finding out how we placed at the JEMS Games, the opening of the conference, and the JEMS FireEMS Blogs Meetup at Uno’s.  We made our way to the Inner Harbor for a morning of exploring, and we decided, after finding out the various ships were closed for the day, to hit the Aquarium.

I had way too much fun.  We made sure to catch the Dolphin show.  If you’ve never been to the Aquarium, I highly recommend it.  It was awesome.  I had gone last year, but I still saw stuff this time around that I had missed last time starting with the Dolphin show.  I sat closer up this year to get better pictures. 

Yup.  Big Smiles!

We also went through the Jellyfish exhibit.  I got stung by Jellyfish last summer like there was no tomorrow, so I found myself mentally smack-talking the Jellyfish stuck behind the glass in my best LaTwonda voice.

I never once said that what I said was entertaining…out loud.

Anywho.  So we left the Aquarium and went to the Convention center to find out where we placed.  Sadly, we finished in last place.  We did our best, but this year it just wasn’t ment to be.  There’s always next year.  As we made our way back to the Hotel, we saw a woman dancing between the two malls on Light St.  She wasn’t doing a half bad job gyrating on a light pole and just having a blast to a Britney Spears song.  As we got closer, we realized several things:

-The woman was having just a little too much fun dancing.

-The blonde, curly hair was a very bad wig.

-Blondie had a 5 o’clock shadow.

We couldn’t help but stare and watch.  It was like watching a train wreck.  Blondie came up to us and happily posed for pictures with each of us.  “She” was very sweet and kind, actually, and we all had a good laugh.  Then, “She” asked if I would dance with her…

…I suddenly started looking for the nearest rock to climb under.

Then I decided, what the hell.  For forty-five seconds, I danced with Blondie and I had a blast.  Sure, the abject looks of horror on my face as we danced and the laughter made the pictures even better to look at.  I’m not sure if that was a high or low point in my life, but it was definately something.

After an absolutely incredible lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe in the Inner Harbor where I had one of the best Caesar Salads EVER, I found my way to the Exhibition Hall where I got to see the Opening Ceremonies.  The FDNY Fife and Drum group was incredible; listening to Bagpipes always gets me, so as I wiped a tear away, I went inside.

Tomorrow, we’ll discuss the products I saw, who I met at the JEMS Blogger Meet-Up, and one of the coolest moments of my life that I was able to catch on film.

Have fun and Be safe!

~MT~

‘The Day Medic Trommashere Came To Life’

Day 2:

Day 2 started off with a great breakfast at The Mount Vernon Hotel.  Can I just say that the MVH was absolutely awesome!  They had a complimentary breakfast that was to die for; Eggs, Pancakes, French Toast, Bacon, Sausage, ect.  The staff went above and beyond the call of duty.  We spent the better part of the morning attending a few pre-conference workshops, but then it was time to go to the competition.  As we walked, we went over the ACLS protocols.  A small discussion ensued about the removal of Atropine for Cardiac Arrest; reading over the science behind the change was interesting, but that’s a whole other blog post.

Entering the sequestering room, all of our nerves were on edge.  It seemed like hours, but within minutes, it was our turn to throw down on some EMS Skills…

…and throw down we did.

We did as best as we could; we stumbled in some places, but we soared in others.  It was an awesome experience all around.

After the competition, we hung around in the Inner Harbor for a bit, going through the malls, trying to waste some time.  My mind was already thinking about 8pm, the Zoll Pre-Conference Blogger Bash.  I wasn’t sure how it was going to go; who would believe that I was Medic Trommashere.  For a moment, I truly wondered if being an ‘Undercover Blogger’ was such a good idea.  There was no ‘proof’ that I was who I said I was.  As I got dressed, I slipped my Trauma Shears in my back pocket; a reflex reaction from years of having EMS pants sans the Trauma Shear pocket.

I made my way to the Pratt Street Ale House, feeling my heart racing the whole way.  I was nervous.  As I walked in, I saw a few people; everyone else would be coming in after the EMS 10 dinner.  I immediately ordered a Yuengling and I sat down, ruminating about how I was going to do this when people started flowing in.  The first person I met was Ms. Sam Bradley.  She walked right up to me and I introduced myself…

…using my real name.

I then switched gears, adding, “But I think you know me better as Medic Trommashere.”

It was, as The Happy Medic has spoken of, the Second Introduction.  I had felt like I had known many of these people for a very long time.  I come from a very VERY large family, so family reunions are very natural for me.  I felt like I was back at a Trommashere family reunion.  It was incredible.  I had my trusty Pink Handled Trauma Shears with me and they were passed around freely.  I have never felt so much warmth and camradere in one room before.

I spent several hours taking pictures and drinking with some of the best people I’ve ever met.

Later that night, as I was going to bed, Medic Dolphine asked me to describe my day.  I summed it up this way:

“Dude.  It was the best night ever.”

Tomorrow, we’ll cover Day 3, also known as, “The Day I Danced with Britney Squeals and A.J Heightman Held my Trauma Shears.”

Have fun and be safe!

~MT~

These past few days have been INSANE.  I have never met so many wonderfully awesome people at the same time. 

So to everyone I met:

The Social Medic.
Hybrid Medic
Ambulance Driver
The Happy Medic
Thaddeus Setla
TOTWTYTR
CKEMTP
The creator of the KED device himself, Mr. Kendrick.
NJDIVEMEDIC
ssgjbroyles
Sam Bradley
MsParamedic
The Medics from Queensland, Australia.
Rogue Medic
A.J. Heightman

Chris Montera

Carissa Caramanis O’Brien
Nancy Perry

…and everyone else that I got the absolute pleasure of meeting, yet for whatever reason, I cannot remember their name or Twitter/Facebook/Blog handle at this exact moment, you made this girl happier than a kid with a Thousand dollars in a penny candy store.  I have never met so many wonderful people at one time, in one place. 

Considering that none of you knew who I was, once I introduced myself, I felt like I had known all of you for a long time.  I hope to see all of you again soon.  I miss you already!
Now, onto Day One of EMSToday!

Tuesday, March 1st.

So, EMT Double D, Medic Dolphine, and myself made our way to Baltimore.  We left The White Puppy and The Princess Puppy behind.  Bustling around the house all day, the dogs knew what was up.   As I wrote a last minute E-mail, TWP made it clear that he was not pleased at the idea of me leaving:

We finally got on the road, and our first pitstop was at the local Wine and Spirits store.  We acquired two bottles of Red Wine and a case of Yuengling.  As we were checking out, at the cash reigister, we spotted a can of Alcoholic Whipped cream in four flavors: Original Cream, Peppermint, Caramel, and Chocolate.  My first thought: a new and very inventive topping for Irish Coffee or when I make a Rum Cake, or even just as a fun suprise for an Ice Cream topping.  The Guys…well…I don’t think it’s legal to write about their first thoughts.

We raced to Baltimore, singing along to every song on the radio.  We had a blast on the drive.  As we neared the city, we made a wrong turn (oops!).  We had to be in Balitmore for the JEMS Games Check in at 6pm and it was nearly 5pm.  We quickly offloaded at our hotel and we walked the nearly 15 blocks back to the Convention center…

…with two very loaded EMS bags.

The night prior, we were up until about two or three in the morning, getting the bags set up and ready to go.  As we were getting our bags checked, we suddenly realized that we had no adult oxygen supplies; they were moved over to an auxillary bag as we were getting packed.  With abject horror, Medic Dolphine raced the 15 blocks back to the hotel to retrieve our supplies. 

Returning with only seconds to spare, we were ushered into the main room where the orientation would begin.

This is where I had my first interraction with the Medics from Queensland, Australia.  I will refer to them from now on as ‘The Aussies’ as there were five of them, and three of them had the exact same name.  I never saw one without the other four.  They were, outside of the various bloggers and podcasters I met, the nicest and kindest I met while at the conference.  They were excited to be there and just from the first conversation I got to have with them, I was excited to be sharing the EMS Wealth as it were; talking about the similarites and differences between US EMS and AUS EMS.  It was a fantastic conversation.

I got to chat with several teams that I had remembered from the previous year, most notably the Surry Co. EMS.  They had a fantastic showing last year as well as this year.  It was an honor to compete with them.

After the orientation, we walked back to the hotel, excited about things to come.  Sleep came quickly; carrying who knows how many pounds of equipment will do that to you.

Tomorrow we’ll discuss Day Two, also known as ‘The Day Medic Trommashere Came To Life.”

Have Fun and Be Safe!

…and I’m not talking about the type that needs a special pill or shot to cure.

Check out your favorite Ambulance Driver’s blog for more information.

We always talk about wanting to show that EMS is more than just the Red Headed Step-Child in the Public Safety Family.

We talk about the brother/sisterhood and how we band together to help each other out.

Let’s show them just was this family will do, not only for their own, but for others in their time of need.

Let’s show why EMS is awesome wrapped in win by giving what we can to help a brother and sister out to go to Haiti and help out those who are calling out for help.  They’re dialing 911…

…who wants to mark up and answer the call?

I’m in, who’s with me?

~MT~

So, I received an E-mail a few days ago and the questions asked I feel may help others in their EMS quest, so with the authors’ permission, I decided to post it here.

Hey! I just wanted to let you know how much I love your blog & how much it inspires me. I am currently an EMTB student. (I’m writing this during a study break for a test I have on Monday. ) This is my second time taking the EMTB course due to a year ago passing out & having a seizure in class caused by Dysautonomia.My disorder that I was foudn to be in remission of in July! Althought I still have relapses. Whenever I feel overwhelmed with class & my disorder your blog reminds me that there is light at the end of the tunnel  as long as I continue to work hard. The first night that I found your blog I stayed up all night reading every post. I was instantly hooked on your stories, EMS, & willing to put in 100% to be the best EMT I can be. If you don’t mind, can you answers some questions for me?

 As a 5ft female how do I respond to people who see this as a handicap for me? I enjoy the challenge in proving people wrong but when they are flat out rude about it, what do I even say back? I want to remain professional, but not allow myself to be walked all over either.
Also, what advice would you give a newbie? I feel like I am not even on the tip of the iceburg to the knowledge of EMS, but I am so eager to learn!!

Thanks so much for your time & blog!! You are amazing! Stay safe out there.
L.

L,

First of all, thank you very much for your kind words!  You are awesome in your own right.  Good on you for continuing with your goal.  Yes, there is a light at the end of the tunnel and I’m glad you can see it.  That’s the hardest part for a lot of people; being able to focus on the fact that yes, it’ll be over, they just have to get there first.

Onto your questions.  As a vertically challenged sort of person, I feel your pain.  EMS is filled with lots of very tall and strong people.  Usually, they’re men.  Unfortunately, sometimes men, and even the vertically gifted women, leave the filter that is inserted between their brain and mouths at home and they say not so nice things about those of us who are under the average height of 5’7″.  When I first started in EMS, I was just over 5ft tall and weighed in at 120lbs.  I heard it a lot that I was too small to do this job.  How could someone as small as myself go ten rounds with a junkie hopped up on PCP?  How could I lift the stretcher the recommended amount to get the back wheels up off the ground so that they could unlock, when the recommended height would put my hands nearly above my head?

People were usually joking around about it, but yes, some people were very rude and cruel about it.  As for what to say? I usually diffuse the rudeness with humor.  For example, someone starts really getting on me because I’m short?  My response: “I’m not short, I’m just fun sized!”  Usually, I can get some good laughs off of it and that’s about it.  Also, and this is a big one; don’t ever claim to do something that you can’t.  Don’t be afraid to admit that you have some, excuse the pun, shortcomings.  It’s hard; you want to prove you can run with the big dogs and show that, even though you’re the smallest dog in the fight, your bite is just as big if not bigger.

There are going to be things you will have to work on; developing good upper body strenght and developing a thick skin.  Not to be bashing men, (God knows I love ‘em…), but sometimes they just say the wrong things.  They can be rude and crude, but once you show that you can be a team player and that, even though you can’t reach the ‘oh shit’ bar on the ceiling of the ambulance, you can still do what’s needed, you’ll be fine.

As for advice for a newbie…don’t ever stop learning.  Always be hungry for knowledge.  You will never, ever, EVER learn everything there is to learn about EMS.  This job field is constantly changing and evolving; one day one drug or treatment will be super popular, and then the next day you find yourself having to change your mentality; suddenly this drug or treatment isn’t recommended anymore.  No two medical or trauma calls are the same.  One STEMI you treat one way, then the next STEMI you have to treat differently.  The minute you find yourself thinking you know everything there is to know, that’s when you need to sit back and re-evaluate your thought process.

Don’t get complacent.  The best…the absolute best, is your best.  Don’t allow yourself to get into that rut that has you not performing at your optimum.  It happens some days; you just can’t get started and your mind is somewhere else.  That happens once in a while, but don’t be that EMT that people know for only doing the bare minimum.  Be the one who goes above and beyond for your patient; your patients and your partners will thank you for it.

Don’t hide your mistakes: Everyone has made them through their careers.  Fess up, and quickly.  Even if you don’t think it’s that major.  Honesty is truly the best policy when it comes to things like this.  I have known several great Medics and EMT’s ruin their careers after hiding a mistake. 

Above all else, just enjoy yourself.  You are stepping into a new and exciting world.  Some days, you are going to hate this job.  It happens.  Stuff goes wrong, crap goes down, and you go home telling yourself that you don’t want to get back on that ambulance.  Get back on that truck; don’t let one bad day get you down.  You will have many more good days than you will bad.  If you need to, find someone to talk to when the going gets very rough, don’t bottle it up.  You need that stiff upper lip when on those hairy calls, but let it out afterwards, you’ll drive yourself crazy if you keep your emotions bottled up.  Seek out those who have been there before; they will be your source for talking it out.

I hope above anything that you enjoy this journey you are embarking on. Relish in the little moments; they will be some of the biggest things you will remember when you become a little old Medic, sitting on your front porch.

If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.

With love,

~Shao~