The Medic Dad Chronicles

Make Them Feel Better We are in EMS to make people feel better. We are not there to diagnose people. We are not there to cure people. If that happens along the way, great—but that isn’t our primary job. I tell people all the time that one of my goals on every single call is to make my patient either smile or laugh at least once. That doesn’t mean I’m not serious about my job. It means I understand what actually helps people in the moment. We have a lot of what I call “wiz-bang cool crap” in EMS. Monitors, cables, numbers, medications, tools, protocols. We can assess, monitor, and treat a wide range of conditions. And all of that absolutely has its place. But sometimes, all you really need are your ears and your mouth. People want to be heard. They want to know that you are actually listening to what they’re saying and that you’re acting on it.  We carry a drug box full of medications that can treat all kinds of conditions. That’s great. But if you miss the real problem because you ...

 Giving People a Fair Shot A nursing friend of mine asked me to bring up a touchy subject: not treating nursing home staff like they’re dumb. That’s a hard one for me. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’ve seen some truly head-scratching things come out of nursing facilities. The kind of stuff that makes you stop mid-sentence and just stare. The classic “they were just fine a few minutes ago.” I’ve heard it. Lived it. Replayed it in my head later, wondering how that sentence even made it out of someone’s mouth. I’ve also heard, more times than I can count: “I’ve been on vacation.” “This isn’t my area.” “They’ve only been here a couple of weeks. I don’t know anything about them.” After enough of that, something changes. You stop asking questions. You stop expecting answers. You walk in and mentally treat the patient like they were found on the street with no history, no baseline, and no one who knows them. It’s not personal — it’s self-preservation. But here’s the other side of...

  Own It(professional) Mistakes happen. Every one of us makes them. What matters isn’t whether you make a mistake—it’s how you handle it when you do. When I’ve made mistakes, I’ve owned them. I’ve “ratted myself out” on numerous occasions. I’ve called supervisors, training officers, and others in positions of authority and told them exactly what happened. I laid it out clearly: what the situation was, what I did, and whether there were any consequences. I’ve been fortunate never to be in a situation where someone was hurt because of a mistake, and I hope I never am. But sometimes the mistake was outside protocol or just wasn’t right. Once I realized that, I made the call. That’s the right thing to do. I’ve also seen plenty of people try to hide their mistakes. And I’ve never seen that work out well. It always comes back to bite them. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. People are always watching—especially now. Everyone has a phone. There are cameras everywhere. CCTV, dash cams,...

  Would You Want You? I’ve said it before, and I still believe it: I try to treat every patient like they’re family. That doesn’t just apply to the patient. It applies to their family members, too. The people standing in the room, pacing the hallway, asking questions, or just watching quietly. They’re part of the call, whether we like it or not.  One of my goals on every call is this—if I ever see that patient or their family again, I want them to remember me in a good way. I want them to remember that I listened, that I cared, and that I made things just a little better in a moment that probably wasn’t a good one for them. Unfortunately, we’ve all walked into scenes where another crew has already been there, and the first thing you hear is something like, “I hope you don’t treat us like the last crew,” or, “Oh, thank God, it’s not the same people.” That tells you everything you need to know. Somewhere along the way, that patient or family felt dismissed, disrespected, rushed,...

Guard Your Name. Guard Your Life. EMS is a small world. Smaller than most people realize. We operate at a high level, and word travels fast. Your reputation—good or bad—will follow you longer than any certification ever will. And here’s the hard truth: a bad reputation spreads farther and faster than a good one. Every time. That doesn’t mean you have to be perfect. It means you need to be intentional. Be the best version of yourself on every call you can. Treat patients with kindness and respect. Treat your coworkers the same way. Do what is best for the patient, even when nobody is watching. Your name matters. At the same time, understand this clearly: you are replaceable at work. They were hiring before you got there, and they’ll be hiring after you’re gone. That’s not bitterness—that’s reality. You don’t owe a service your health, your family, or your sanity. You owe them a good day’s work. Nothing more. Have priorities and don’t deviate from them. Work what you want to work. Don’t ...

  Tell the Truth We should never lie to patients. We should never lie to their families. And we should absolutely never say we see things the patient sees or hear things they hear when we don’t. That doesn’t help anyone. All it does is create problems down the road. I’ll be honest—I will sometimes keep information to myself if I feel it will cause more harm than good. That’s different than lying. There’s a big gap between not saying everything and saying something that isn’t true. I’ve been in the position before where I told someone, “Everything is going to be okay,” and it wasn’t. When that happens, you don’t just look optimistic—you look like a fool and a liar. Patients and families don’t forget that. False reassurance feels good in the moment, but it destroys trust when reality catches up. If I’m fairly certain someone is having a heart attack, I tell them. I explain what’s happening, what I’m doing for them, and why I’m doing it. I also explain what will happen when we ge...