Friday, July 17, 1981, I was nearing the end of my Paramedic training at the University of Kansas, school of Allied health. It was a beautiful evening, and our field training consisted of riding with men and women who were there to hold our hands, dry our tears and teach us what advanced life support was really all about.

I was assigned to KARE 43which was stationed in NW Kansas and was home to pranksters, yet professionals. “Reilly. get the booster line for the BBQ in case we have to leave quickly”. I did as I was instructed, not wanting to disappoint, and was promptly knocked on my rear end by a blast of water. All in good fun.

It was dinner time on a hot Kansas summer evening and as is typical in any firehouse across America, hotdogs ,burgers and local culinary specialties were being cooked. I really loved this time in my life. I was soaking up every bit of medical knowledge that I could, yet at the same time developing a bond with folks who had forgotten more than I could ever hope to know.

It was hot, muggy and painfully slow. (these facts are borne from memories and may not be as accurate as one might hope). It seems that around 7:15pm, we got a call for a mutual aid response into Kans City MO. for a building collapse. As we (me being the 4^th on the crew) responded, we got the news that it was the new Hyatt Regency Hotel.

It was chaos in the ambulance with speculation on what was going on. The dispatcher broadcasted that an aircraft hit the building. Other misinformation related that the revolving restaurant at the top of the hotel had failed. This to me seemed preposterous, but I kept my “student” mouth shut. We arrived to a scene of utter chaos. I once wrote of the particular smell of blood and it occurs to me now that this is when I first really, truly noticed it. The stank, smell of iron was everywhere.

Across town was my friend and American hero Jody Gragg. The evening remains fuzzy and confusing, but suffice it to say that my pulse slowed and my comfort level grew when I saw my fellow student and smartest man I know, Jody in and amongst the chaos.

When I entered the atrium at the heels of my preceptors, I almost threw up at horrific scene which lies ahead. Walking into the opening of the atrium, I saw a blond woman’s head. Just her head with blood soaked highlights in her hair. As the walkways failed, glass slid down the railings which held them in place. Her head, with a horrified look was all that remained as the glass, acting like a giant meat cleaver, removed her head from her shoulders. Even now, as my mind grows quiet, I see her head, her face, almost hearing her last screams.

While I was an unwilling and unwitting participant in the events of September 11, 2011 in NYC, I will NEVER write about them. Head first explosions into West Street cannot compare

This event was a failure of one or more architects to do their due diligence. It was a failure of the folks we trust to make our buildings safe.

Bodies without heads, dismembered torsos and architectural failures, are things we sometimes have to deal with. There is a great book “Why Buildings fall Down” that is a must read.

Here is the YouTube video.

https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=9&cad=rja&ved=0CFIQtwIwCA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DczmQS81k9eM&ei=7SPgUt2VBPPJsQTRgYGIAw&usg=AFQjCNHnyK12py6fGA_qxqveR9s867ITQg&sig2=6bIxGL1CMnhuMnPRHoD6eQ&bvm=bv.59568121,d.cWc

As an aside, my son Timothy was days old when this happened. I would be a liar if I didn’t say I was distracted and preoccupied upon this dispatch. One cannot let that distraction happen, and for that I ask God’s forgiveness.  

Death of a beauty at the hands of a monster

Responding to a call for domestic violence is never an easy task. there is this autonomic function that occurs when one hears the words "Child injured by father". You move more swiftly, pulse races more quickly and you find yourself wringing your sweaty hands in what can only be described as a response to anticipated vengeance.

February 1983 was a particularly cold winter month in New Haven. I remember this vividly because my wife was pregnant with our youngest son, Christopher and she suffered terribly with the cold. We lived in a run-down neighborhood full of violence and chaos. Truthfully, we never felt safe there. Our eldest son Tim was almost 2 and a day did not pass that i didn't fear for his safety. It was not uncommon to hear screams, gunshots and the harried cries of neighborhood children. Why not move, you might ask. We couldn't afford anything better. Paramedic salaries at the time were abysmal and Kathleen worked as well, as an evening dispatcher in the 911 system. Even though we are not together any longer, I am still supremely proud of her for her calmness under fire and doing so while pregnant.

She wasn't working the night we got the call (around 2 am I think) for the injured child. As we got closer to the scene my mind raced, as did my partners, of what would await us. We thought of our own children and the children we had come to love. 

New Haven, while home to Yale University, was a poor city. The impoverished were well hidden away from trustees who had deep pockets and sang the Yale fight song at the Yale Bowl, Saturday afternoons during football season. The dichotomy struck me cold. 20 year old players wearing helmets, pads and the like were well protected from the violence they hope to make an NFL living at some day. Children, with underdeveloped orthopedic structures, malnourished bodies and bloated bellies from poor diet didn't stand a chance from abusive, alcohol or drug fueled rage.

There was snow on the ground on Ashman Street where low income housing once stood. As we arrived, there were tears, screams, signs of self flagellation; prayers offered to God, as a small girl lay half impaled on a security fence and the bottom half of her torso lay a few feet away, transected and lifeless.  Steel from the fence protruded through her long locks of beautiful black hair.

This beautiful child was not injured. This stunning beauty who now lies in peace, was lifeless, and to add the exclamation point to the sadness, she was in two distinct parts. Naked from the waist down, her life blood still yet not frozen, but steaming on the sidewalk, surrounded by crime scene tape and a mother who just stared at her lifeless daughter in shock and disbelief.

Dad, and I use that term with disdain, was manacled in the back seat of a New Haven Police Car. He was sitting there smiling and for one brief solitary second I wanted a piece of his flesh. I am ashamed to admit it, and I hope God will forgive me.

Epilog: She didn't put away her toys.

A retired Paramedics musings: A retired Paramedics musings: Lunar Events

A retired Paramedics musings:  Lunar Events: January, 2014 I have often wondered, as I am sure many of you have, why certain accidents or calamities happen more frequently during ...

A retired Paramedics musings: Lunar Events

January, 2014

I have often wondered, as I am sure many of you have, why certain accidents or calamities happen more frequently during a certain time of the month than others. Sure, violence seems to increase when the checks come out as do car accidents, but what is it that predisposes folks to act out, other than those factors of certainty like money and alcohol.

Why, when alcohol isn’t involved, does domestic violence seem to be more prevalent when there is a full moon. According to Full Moon Antics (http://www.bubblews.com/news/1427486-full-moon-antics) “Some psychologists say they can tell when a full moon is approaching by their visits with their patients. People are not as in control of their emotions and impulses. That could be because the phase of the moon affects our sleep.

Studies have shown that people have a harder time getting to sleep. They sleep for less time and report a poorer quality of sleep during a full moon, even when they are not aware of what phase the moon is in.”

Frankly, I’m not sure if they sleep better or worse, but wackiness prevails.

Take for example the suicide rate. My educated guess is that most people who take the ultimate step of killing themselves aren’t tired. Maybe tired of living, but not physically exhausted. They are typically depressed, often manic, have taken the time to spend hours or days even to author a note to their loved ones and finally commit the ultimate act of (what some might call) selfishness. We once saw a sad case of a 30 something man who put a shotgun in his mouth and there were 99 messages on his answering machine. He either didn’t answer or was already dead the 99 times his mom called him.

Lunar activity not only affects fish, tides, reptiles and other mammals,, but the profound effect it has on fragile humans is profound and unless recognized, can easily be dismissed as just another person who is acting out.

Those of us who see people at their best and at their worst owe it to our patients to be overly sensitive to the sensitivity that many experience to lunar events.

Do your patient a huge favor. If the sky is clear, look up and gaze at the stars and the moon. The explanation may be paramountly clear as to why they are acting out.

Our job isn’t just recognizing a 3^rd degree heart block or an overdose of xanax. It is to be sensitive to psychological variances in behavior based on things we may not fully understand.

A retired Paramedics musings: Ambulance Drivers

January, 2014

I have often wondered, as I am sure many of you have, why certain accidents or calamities happen more frequently during a certain time of the month than others. Sure, violence seems to increase when the checks come out as do car accidents, but what is it that predisposes folks to act out, other than those factors of certainty like money and alcohol.

Why, when alcohol isn’t involved, does domestic violence seem to be more prevalent when there is a full moon. According to Full Moon Antics (http://www.bubblews.com/news/1427486-full-moon-antics) “Some psychologists say they can tell when a full moon is approaching by their visits with their patients. People are not as in control of their emotions and impulses. That could be because the phase of the moon affects our sleep.

Studies have shown that people have a harder time getting to sleep. They sleep for less time and report a poorer quality of sleep during a full moon, even when they are not aware of what phase the moon is in.”

Frankly, I’m not sure if they sleep better or worse, but wackiness prevails.

Take for example the suicide rate. My educated guess is that most people who take the ultimate step of killing themselves aren’t tired. Maybe tired of living, but not physically exhausted. They are typically depressed, often manic, have taken the time to spend hours or days even to author a note to their loved ones and finally commit the ultimate act of (what some might call) selfishness. We once saw a sad case of a 30 something man who put a shotgun in his mouth and there were 99 messages on his answering machine. He either didn’t answer or was already dead the 99 times his mom called him.

Lunar activity not only affects fish, tides, reptiles and other mammals,, but the profound effect it has on fragile humans is profound and unless recognized, can easily be dismissed as just another person who is acting out.

Those of us who see people at their best and at their worst owe it to our patients to be overly sensitive to the sensitivity that many experience to lunar events.

Do your patient a huge favor. If the sky is clear, look up and gaze at the stars and the moon. The explanation may be paramountly clear as to why they are acting out.

Our job isn’t just recognizing a 3^rd degree heart block or an overdose of xanax. It is to be sensitive to psychological variances in behavior based on things we may not fully understand....

Ambulance Drivers

Ambulance Drivers

Every person on earth , no matter what their profession (or lack thereof) has a name called them that is not only derogatory, but sinister.

I attribute this slang to a lack of educational facts. Lets face it, if we were ambulance drivers, who would take care of the sick and injured riding in the back! The term ambulance driver conjures up anger, a blatant shortfall of our years of training and is akin to the “N” word when it is used.

Emergency medical technicians of all sorts, including Paramedics are held to the highest prehospital standards dictated by a governance of state and federal agencies.  We have to rectify our licenses every 3 years, attend massive amounts of continuing medical education (CME) and the mere fact that you show up does not in any way guarantee you will pass. If you don’t pass, you lose your livelihood and become unemployed. There are no jobs for “ambulance drivers”

We carry medications, do minor surgical procedures, are subjected to physical violence, and have to carry 3 times our own weight. If one responds to a home loaded with cockroaches, quickly you learn not to put your gear on the floor. Roaches climb in and are carried to other homes, or in the worst case scenario, back to the place you call home.

When God calls you home, there is nothing, and I mean nothing we can do. We try to resuscitate you, but God has the final word. Rightfully so.

 Paramedic carries between 30 and 52 different medications. It’s impossible to deliver those medications if you are an ambulance “driver”.

Please help the profession that I have lovingly given over 30 years to and drop the phrase ambulance driver. You have no idea the marked increase in self worth we will all feel.