It takes all types(The Bystander)

The Bystander

I've worked with a lot of different personalities in EMS over the years. Some became lifelong friends. Some taught me things I'll never forget. Some could run a call like nobody's business. And then there was The Bystander.

The partner who was always on the scene but somehow never in the call. They weren't refusing to work. They weren't hiding. They were just... there. Watching. Waiting. Looking for the next instruction instead of the next task.

Over the years, I realized The Bystander isn't defined by years on the job. I've seen it in brand-new EMTs who were afraid to make a mistake, and I've seen it in seasoned EMTs who should have known exactly what needed to happen next. They were on the "ROADS" program (Retired on Active Duty Service). Experience doesn't automatically create initiative.

Every call was the same. We'd arrive on scene, and while I was assessing the patient, talking with the family, formulating a treatment plan, and thinking three steps ahead, my partner was standing there waiting.

If I needed vital signs, I had to ask. If I wanted equipment brought inside, I had to ask. If I needed the stretcher moved, I had to ask. Every task required direction. The problem with the first type of bystander wasn't that they wouldn't work. The problem was that I had to think for two people. The problem with the second type was that they only wanted to drive. No patient care, no paperwork, no clean-up, just drive. 

EMS doesn't work that way.

A good partner doesn't wait for instructions. A good partner walks onto a scene already looking for ways to help. They start getting a history. They take vital signs. They begin packaging the patient. They ask, "What do you need?" Better yet, they anticipate what you'll need before you have to ask.

Over time, I realized the problem wasn't that these people lacked one particular skill. They never became an asset to the crew, or they no longer wanted to be. 

One call in particular has stayed with me for years. 

It was early one morning, and we were dispatched to a seizure. The patient was a large man I knew from a previous call. He had survived a brain tumor years earlier, and seizures had become part of his life. 

We got inside, and I immediately started thinking through everything that needed to happen. We were going to need the stretcher. We were going to need fire to help move him. We needed his vitals, a history, and a plan for getting him out safely. 

I left my partner with one simple task: get a set of vital signs. I stepped outside to bring the stretcher in and radio our fire crew for an ETA.

I wasn't gone long. 

When I walked back into the house, they were standing in the exact same spot. The only thing that had changed was that the blood pressure cuff was out of the bag. No blood pressure. No pulse. No oxygen saturation. They were simply... standing there. 

That was the moment I realized I couldn't keep working with someone who required constant direction. I didn't need another patient. I needed a partner. I never worked another shift with them.

 Driving the ambulance was an adventure. Backing the truck required constant coaching from a ground guide, and even then it was dicey. Simple patient lifts became difficult. Vital signs weren't reliable. Reports needed constant correction. Even cleaning and restocking the truck after a call felt like something that had to be supervised.

Individually, none of those things define a bad EMT. Together, they painted the picture of someone who never truly took ownership of the profession. One of the hardest lessons I've learned is that not everyone is cut out for EMS. And when you no longer want to be a helpful part of the team, retire. 

This job demands more than medical knowledge. It demands initiative. It demands teamwork. It demands the ability to think ahead while everything around you is moving fast. It demands becoming someone your partner can depend on without micromanaging every decision. It demands equal teamwork.

I'd rather work with a brand-new EMT who's eager to learn than someone with years on the job who's content waiting to be told what to do.

Patients already have enough bystanders. They don't need one wearing an EMS uniform. A good partner makes your job easier. A bystander makes your job harder.

And your greatest contribution to your partner isn't doing only what you're told. It's seeing what needs to be done... and doing it.