I know you can open your legs

Code 3 for pregnant female whose water broke.

We walk all the way around to the back house. Two toddlers are asleep in the only bed in the house, on either side of a pregnant woman, whose pinkish water is gushing through her underwear onto the bed. Totally gross.

I cut the sides of her panties and try to spread her legs to check for crowning. Third pregnancy, broken water – I can’t believe there are people who still don’t LOOK. She resists, trying to keeping her legs together. I have no idea why. You call me – I’m going to see what your problem is and manage it, and that includes those parts between your legs.

“Oh NOW you can’t open your legs?”

Things people who were involved in traffic collisions say (and what they really mean)

There are only a handful of things we actually hear at wrecks.

“He came out of nowhere!”
Reality: “I didn’t see him because I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“She stopped all of a sudden!”
Reality: “I didn’t follow at a safe distance. I also wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“He was going really fast!”
Reality: “I didn’t see him because I wasn’t paying enough attention.”
Also, he wasn’t really going that fast. I can see the scratch on the car.

“I wasn’t going that fast.”
Reality: “I was going far too fast before I lost control in the rain because I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“Is she drunk?”
Reality: “I know I’m totally at fault because I wasn’t paying enough attention but I’m trying to blame the other driver.”
Also, no.

“I only had 2 beers.”
Reality: “I had more than 2 beers. Also, I wasn’t paying enough attention because it’s hard to pay attention after drinking more than 2 beers.”

“The sun was in my eyes.”
Reality: “The sun was in my eyes and I didn’t bother to slow down.”

What the fuck do you want me to do about it?

Code 3 for shortness of breath. At the university, in a classroom.

Typical.

I think I’ve only ever been to 2 actual medical emergencies at the university. IN YEARS.

We walk into the classroom full of people and find… exactly nothing. Everyone appears healthy.

“Soooo, who called 911?”

“I did,” the instructor speaks up.

“And what for?”

I’m just asking an innocent question, since there obviously is no medical emergency visible to the naked eye.

“She was coughing a lot,” the instructor points toward a student.

“Well, she’s obviously fine.”

“I AM fine,” the student corroborates, “I’ve just had a cough for a few days.”

“Yeah, that’s going around – it took me a month to get over my cough,” I add to the small talk.

“She was coughing so much it was disrupting the class.”

“You couldn’t have asked her to step outside for a second?”

<Silence>

“And instead you called 911?”

“She seemed like she couldn’t breathe,” the instructor weakly offers.

“Did you even ask her if she wanted a 911 response?”

<Silence>

“She did not ask me.”

“And what do you want me to do about this?”

<Silence>

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“We’re leaving.”

You call, we haul. Now get in the friggin' ambulance.

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