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Code 2 for a fall.

A very large woman with “bad legs” fell while getting out of her car. Her husband tried to get her up, but she’s much heavier than he is. She just needs a lift. She’s nice and polite, but anxious for some reason.

“I’m so embarrassed!”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, ma’am.”

“I’m worried that you’ll be talking about me around the coffee table in the morning with the other guys!”

She is serious.

The great irony is that by making a statement like that, she has just practically guaranteed that someone will mention her. But either way, it won’t be any more than a quick blurb before it is consigned to the giant heap of trash known as “forgettable EMS memories,” where it hopefully does less damage to our collective mental health.

Unless some asshole writes a post about it and her inflated sense of self-importance.

Our backs, on the other hand, will register yet another small amount of cumulative and repetitive damage, until one day, bending over to pick up a pencil, someone blows out a disc.

“Umm… no, ma’am. We pick people up all the time off the floor. Unless someone is spectacularly annoying or stupid, I will forget about the call as soon as I write my paperwork, and so will these guys.”

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