I just realized last night, while we were on our way to yet another call at some ungodly hour, that even though the ignorant public and the lying politicians are constantly yakking about cutting our pay and our benefits because we’re such overpaid gluttons who love raping taxpayers and pillaging budgets like Wall Street executives on crack, not once have I shown up on scene thinking about any of this in someone’s time of need.

Call me classy.

Now go fuck yourselves.

On the scene of countless so-called “medical emergencies” (uh huh…) across the world…

“Can I call my husband before we leave?”

“OK. Make it quick.”

Twenty-one seconds later…

“Alright, hang up, let’s go. You called 911 because you say you have an emergency… let’s hang up and go to the ambulance so we can drive you to the emergency room…”

There’s a long wait at the emergency psychiatric* receiving facility. Our patient wants a cigarette. She has been completely cooperative, and is voluntarily here. My partner gives her a cigarette after asking me and the facility staff if it’s OK. I generally believe in the path of least resistance, and I suspect the facility does too.

We let the patient off the gurney and she smokes. The staff is aware of this, of her steady gait, of her ability to walk, of her absolute lack of medical issues. I even re-make the gurney now that she’s off of it.

So, the wait is over, and it’s time to bring her into the facility.

“You guys have to wheel her in on the gurney.”

“What the fuck? She’s already walking toward your door. And I already made the gurney!”

“It’s our policy. We don’t want her to fall or pass out or run away.”

“WHAT? Use your heads!”

Path of least resistance. Path of least resistance. Well, after some lip first. Assholes.

*Oxymoron

Code 2 for the illness.

“RP said she will meet you in front of the address.”

We turn onto the street. No sign of anyone in front of the residence, which is a boarding house for people with psychiatric issues.

Liar.

I walk up, poke my head around, and then into the open front door. She’s inside the residence, gathering her stuff.

“Please come on out.” Mostly because now that I was told she’d be outside, I’m too lazy to go in. Or get my gear, for that matter.

She comes out, sets her 2 pieces of luggage at the door, locks her door and walks over.

“Get my bags.”

“No, I’m not the bellhop. Get it yourself.” I stand my ground.

Or you can ask nicely.

Jesus.

My partner rescues the situation by grabbing one of her bags.

Some asshole bureaucrat complained to our bosses at our agency that we sat down for a cup of coffee while on duty* in our response district, and the coffee shop – already not a fan of politicians, bureaucrats and small business-related red tape – found out.

So, the next time the same asshole bureaucrat showed up for coffee, the coffee shop told him he was not welcome because he was not supportive of us. I’d like to thank this coffee shop.

*No calls were missed during the consumption of said coffee, and everyone who did not need an ambulance ride for some silly non-emergency that day got one anyway.

Code 3 for the unknown.

A 96-year-old female hobbles down the steps of her mobile home. Despite her complaint, she insists on hobbling.

“Are you guys mad at me for calling?”

“Us? Of course not. You can call us whenever you need us.”

Code 3 for vomiting.

“Please take your jacket off, ma’am.”

“But I’m cold!”

Your next words should be:

(a) “Are you deaf? Take your jacket off.”

(b) “Please, ma’am, I need to take your blood pressure and put electrodes on you.”

(c) “Yes, yes, I know. That’s why people wear jackets.”

(d) “Cab drivers don’t ask people to take their jackets off.”

Funny little nuance about emergency services – we don’t literally work directly for the people who are nominally our employers, whether it’s a city/county/state government department/agency or a private company or whatever. Instead, we work for the people who call us.

At least, that’s how I see it.

Yes, I know who signs my paycheck, and I know whose policies and procedures I work under, but I don’t really work for them in the same way a subordinate works for a supervisor in a typical setting. So as far as our employers, especially chief- and upper management-types, are concerned, I must say that I feel no extraordinary loyalty to them, because the only people who really do matter are the people who call us, no matter how stupid they sometimes can be, and that’s where my loyalty lies.

As a matter of fact, whenever our bosses make poor decisions that affect service delivery – and they make many – guess whose side I’m on. And I enjoy having that recourse. We work for the people who call us.

“It may not be an emergency to us, but it’s an emergency to them.”

Then they’re idiots. And it should be our job to tell them there is no emergency, not flood the EDs with silly patients.

Unfortunately, our bosses are pussies, and we’re choosing what is easy (acquiesce) over what is right (educate).

An agency administrative person, relatively new to EMS, is sitting at her desk, about to eat her lunch.

“I’m sorry, do you have a minute before I go in service? It’s a quick HR thing but it’s urgent.”

She looks at her lunch, looks up, “Not really.”

“You do realize you work with several hundred people who have their meals and sleep interrupted every hour of every day, right?”