The hits keep coming, Depression(part 4)

 I started my EMS career as an EMT-Intermediate at MedStar EMS. I worked as a part-timer and I worked as much as I possibly could. I mostly needed the money, but I also loved what I did. After nearly a year I was approached and asked by a paramedic friend if I wanted to come full time and be her partner. Tracy was a seasoned medic, and we got along great so I jumped at the chance. Over the years as an EMT-I I learned so much, got to see so and do so much I went on to get my medic. That was when the real fun started. 

As a medic you are in charge of your unit, you make the calls in patient care and you make the choices to keep you and your partner safe. I took what I learned from all my amazing partners and put it into what I did for my patients. We often have students who ride clinicals with us and sometimes they ask us "What is the worst call you've ever had?" or "What is the worst thing that you've ever seen?" My partner Sheila told one of them once, "You are asking us to relive some of the worst moments of our lives just out of curiosity?" I know that people don't mean anything by it but Sheila is right, we see horrendous things, smell awful smells, and do things that nobody ever should have to do. We replay them over and over in our minds but saying them out loud is much worse. 

You can ask anyone in EMS what are the one type of call that you absolutely hate and 99% of the time you will hear "PEDS". Pediatric cases are the absolute scariest especially when you are just starting out. When you hear the call for a baby not breathing your butt puckers and your heart races. 

There are some things in this post that might upset some people, pleased be warned that it might be upsetting. 

Some calls run in your head from time to time, you pass by the area where the call was, or you smell a call that reminds you of it. I was working somewhere on the west side when we got the call for a baby not breathing. We were close to the call and on the way, I told my partner what my plan was. I was going to go into the house, grab the child, and return to the truck. We got on scene and I ran into the house and saw the baby on the floor. Several things on that call play in my head. First was the little 5-6-year-old girl who kept saying "That's my baby brother, that's my brother" as I was scooping the child up. I remember the smell of vomit coming from their mouth as I was running out the door. I also remember the greyish-green color of the baby as I entered the daylight outside. When I finished this call I called my kids, I just needed to hear their voices. I needed to get that little girl's voice out of the front of my brain. You don't forget those things, her little voice still lives in the back of my brain.

Another call that sticks out in my head was on the east side. We were dispatched for a pediatric cardiac arrest, and we had to go through a street that was closed off. At the time I didn't realize that the street was closed because there was a power pole that was broken and it was being replaced. Once we were on the scene this lady came running out screaming "Save my baby" and tossed her child in my arms. I remember the child looked six or seven but the mom said that she was twelve. The child had nothing but a pull-up on and spots all over her body. We did everything that we could for the child and as we rolled into the ER the pediatric staff took over and that was when everything hit me. During the call you're all business, that is the way you have to be or you'll not be on your A-game. I don't know the outcome of that call, that is yet another thing that will weigh on your heart. It allows the second-guessing to start, the doubt will eat you up. I have a bag that I keep on my unit for every shift, I call it my manna bag(Man I wish I had this, man I wish I had that), On That bag I have a pacifier, I have had it on there for most of my career, it was the pacifier my son used as a baby. I look at that pacifier and think of him and my other kids on tough pediatric calls. You have to have something to turn to, to remind you of the good things in bad times.

Years ago at MedStar we had a medic that we called the "Cranky Yankee", his name was Matt and he was from Boston. You could tell Matt was from Boston as soon as he opened his mouth. I worked a roll-over crash with three people in the car. We arrived on the scene and everyone was out of the car and a tiny baby was sitting in the car seat on the ground with the others. I could tell that the child was in distress. Just after we arrived the fire department arrived and here came Matt, I was so happy to see him as I knew that I could leave the care of the others with him and take the baby to my unit. No words were really said, he just nodded and I ran. Once my second unit got on the scene I told the arriving medic what was going on and we took off for the hospital. Once I had the child in the lights of the truck I could see the extent of the injuries and I could tell what happened during the crash. I did everything I could do for the child on the way and there was a team waiting for me when I got there. I think about that call every time that I roll past that area, I still get upset when I think about it. 

The final and most memorable call that I will talk about is the C-130 crash of 2018, My partner and I had just dropped of a patient at the hospital and we were on our way back to our county. The patient that we dropped off was related to my partner so we took a little longer than normal to clear the hospital. As we approached the curve on the west side of Garden City I heard a Rincon First Responder come over the radio and say something about a plane crash somewhere just ahead of us. I didn't hesitate, I turned on the lights and sirens and took off headed to where he said the crash was. As I rounded the corner I saw the thick black smoke and fireball. We navigated through the traffic and arrived on the scene. I gave our dispatch a detailed scene size-up, I told my partner to stay with the truck and I was going to look for possible survivors. There was nothing but flames and wreckage as far as you could see. I made my way all the way around the crash site relaying all the information that I could. I found no survivors, just destruction and fire. By the time I made it back to my EMS unit, there were so many jurisdictions of Fire services, EMS, Law Enforcement, and the Military. I went to the command center that was set up and I was approached by a guy in a white shirt, he called my name and I just looked at him. He repeated my name, then again, Joe grabbed my shoulders, looked at me dead in my face, and said "Darrin, it's me, Joe, it's Joe." That was when I realized that it was Joe Bandy, I've known Joe from the streets for years, and my brain just wasn't comprehending who he was. I will always remember Joe looking at me, "Darrin, it's me, Joe, it's Joe".

The chaos persists, but so do I