well, we caught a fire... of sorts

Not really, but it's been so slow around here that any amount of smoke and flames must, by default, count as a fire. I was working on the ambulance and we caught a call in the far end of a neighboring territory. Twenty minutes later we were cancelled. We caught another call even further away, only to be cancelled off of that one as well. Heading back to our station, my partner declares "I think we lost power steering". Well, that can be a pain in the backside, but it's manageable. I am unimpressed and ask him if he still has brakes. I have been in a truck where the serpentine belt burned up and lost power everything- the brakes are a biggie. He checked, and we had brakes. We made the turn onto the street our station is on, and he was really struggling to get the truck maneuvered. I caught his expression as he hit the brakes; they were going out. He grabbed the radio and put us out of service. As we rounded the curve at a whopping three m.p.h., I caught a glance in the side mirror- we were blowing blue smoke behind us. "I think the engine's blown" I said nonchalantly. We limped her off the roadway in front of our station. As we stopped, smoke enveloped the truck. My partner got out and tried to open the hood.

As he did, the engine burst into flames. I got on the radio and notified dispatch that our truck was on fire. My cell phone started ringing off the hook. I saw that it was one of the supervisors- I answered it and said "yes it's really on fire, call ya back!" and hung up on him (sorry!) I grabbed an extinguisher and passed it to my partner who doused the flames. They would go out, then like trick candles, flare back up, taunting us with small flickering fingers. We coated the engine with the extinguisher, and took all the equipment off the truck. Supervisors showed up. A tow truck had to come haul ol' smokey off to the shop. They say she fried the brain of the truck, and is probably down for the count.

It wasn't exactly the "fire" we were looking for.....

Hello.....OnStar?

This car belonged to an insurance adjuster. Define the irony there. He went to someone's house to file a report on a vehicle, and when he came out his car was gone. He found it here, down a steep hill. It was locked, still in drive, engine running. We read the VIN number and tried to get OnStar to turn it off and open the doors remotely. It took a bit longer than we wanted and the vehicle started smoking, so we had to use the universal key and break the glass. We got it turned off and secured as best as we could. It took two tow trucks to get it out. Thankfully nobody was in it at the time. Weird.

Saved by the seatbelt (and car seat).

Dispatch spoke quickly. Motor vehicle accident with injuries. And entrapment. Initially another truck was sent, but the caller wasn't positive on their location. Once other people started calling, we were sent. The location was in our zone. It sounded bad. Dump truck versus car, positive entrapment. Two guys from my station were out in the rescue truck, so my partner took the ambulance, I drove the engine. I neared the scene and was struck by the layer of smoke hovering around the tree tops, like our own private low-lying black cloud. My partner had stopped the ambulance seconds before, and was showing me where he wanted the engine parked. I stopped it, put it in pump gear, and ran to get my turnout gear on. The SUV was on it's side, smoking, it's roof collapsed, and entire driver's side caved in, the vehicle was on fire. The acrid smell of hot plastic and burning metal burned my nose. There was a large dump truck up against the bottom of the SUV. One of the guys on scene poked around from the car and yelled "I need patient care!". I tossed my helmet on my head and ran over to assess the driver. She was in the driver's seat, hanging by the seat belt. Her arms dangled in midair, blood ran down her face, down her hanging hair, down her arm. I followed a drop of blood, and noted the pool on the passenger window and roof (the car landed on it's passenger side). I saw the color of her arms. Purple and blotchy. The color of dead. To my surprise she moaned. I tried to get into the vehicle, but one of the guys doing the extrication hollered over the noise "no, I'm about to cut there" so I went in through where the windshield had been as best I could. When my head was inside the car, instead of seeing the patient, I saw the car seat. It was in the back seat, a forward facing toddler seat. Then I saw a little mirror in the seat next to it- the type parents use to look at babies in rear facing car seats. Only there were no kids, no babies. It's never safe to assume, so I spoke to the driver. "Were your kids in the car with you?" She responds. "Yes."

We all glance through the car- there are no children to be seen. No little hands or feet poking out from anywhere, no whimpers, no cries. I ask mom again- "Are you sure your kids were with you- did you drop them off at a sitters?" She stopped to think, and replied "no, my 2 year old stayed with grandma, but the baby was with me. OH GOD WHERE'S THE BABY!?!?!?". A sheriff from another county was on scene, and touched my shoulder. He said in a monotone voice "We have the baby. The baby is fine" It wasn't what he said, but how he said it. I took it to mean he was trying not to freak mom out and there was a dead baby here somewhere. I didn't ask any more about it initially. I did what I could to get mom out. The guys had to cut some on the roof of the car, and spread the metal floorboard to get her foot unstuck, so I pulled the officer out of earshot from mom. Where is this baby? "He's up there, he's fine" he replied, pointing 200 yards up the entrance ramp to the highway. There, standing on the roadway, was a lady holding a baby. Someone had pulled the baby- car seat and all- from the smoldering car. She had held the baby, and he did appear to be ok. A helicopter was on it's way for mom, so I asked for another ambulance for the baby. Appearances are one thing- but if this baby was in the car the dump truck hit, he needed to be transported. Kids are notorious for crashing hard and fast with no warning.

It took us about 15 minutes to free mom from the car. She had two deep lacerations angled across her forehead- perfect angles from the steering wheel. She had hit an artery and the blood kept seeping steadily from her face. Her arm was broken just above her elbow. Her hip and femur were shattered. I didn't detect any internal bleeding or airway problems, and am sure she will make it, but she's going to have a long road to recovery. We loaded her up and began treatment. We tried to slow the bleeding, started fluids, and gave her some morphine. The helicopter landed, and we flew her out. The other ambulance hadn't arrived on scene yet, so I tried to secure the baby on our pedi board, but he was too small for it. The best possible way to secure him was in his car seat. I didn't like doing it, but it was the best choice for him. The infant c-collar was too big for his tiny neck, so we made an old fashioned horseshoe brace out of a towel and secured it around him. It would limit his movement decently. They asked me where I wanted to take him. I made the decision to bypass the closer, smaller hospitals that can treat ear infections and sore throats, and make the 40 something mile trip to the children's hospital downtown. I called them to let them know we were on our way.
The baby miraculously appeared completely unhurt. He was in the back seat, directly behind mom. The driver's side took the impact, and the interior of the car had 2-3 feet of intrusion. The baby's seat had major stress marks from the wreck. Dad showed up on scene, and rode in with the baby. The children's hospital stressed to dad that the car seat had done it's job. They said he would need a new seat to leave the hospital in. Dad explained that he had paid that vehicle off two weeks prior- and had gotten the title yesterday. He said finances were tight, and a new car seat wasn't an option for them that day. I promised dad i would make some phone calls and see what i could do. Our county has a very proactive child safety program, and reduced price car seats are one of the services we offer. I was so very happy that before I had even made it back into county, someone was on their way to take him a new seat from headquarters! It makes me feel so good to be able to help people in more ways that just the immediate emergency needs.

Dad got choked up and started crying. He said "I almost came full circle this morning". My puzzled look must have been obvious, because dad went on to explain that he can trace his family tree all the way back to 1900, and there had never been a male in his family who had lived to see his 16th birthday with a mother alive. The women all died before their sons turned 16. His mother had died when he was 10 in a car accident. His nephew lost both parents the day before he turned 16. His dad's mom had died of cancer when his dad was young. A grandmother died in a freak hunting accident. I guess I still looked puzzled- the baby was 9 months old, and there was a car seat for a 2 year old. Dad spoke up "we also have an 11 year old, and a 15 year old son." I didn't know what to say. Goosebumps arose on my arms. Speechless, I shook dad's hand and asked him to keep us updated on mom's condition. I had to turn and leave- there was nothing else for me to do.

Thinking of your dad

"A" was my partner for a long time at my previous department. She was fun, funny, and just as moody as I am . How we never killed each other is beyond me. We laughed, we cried, we did goofy stuff for no reason whatsoever, we knew each other pretty darn well. We could go to a call, and she and I would feed off each other and could work like a well oiled machine without ever saying a word. She could tell when I would work on someone with a sense of urgency but not want to alarm bystanders or family. She knew my next move and would pass equipment without being asked, or do her part with no prompting. She was a great partner.

"A"s dad and step mom lived nearby, and we were often invited to dinner or just to visit. We watered their plants when they were out of town (and yes, we hung an empty IV bag over a plant for them to discover once, just for fun). I got to know them really well. Her dad worked at a local grocery store, and would harass us every time we went in. He was in his 70's with a full head of snow white hair, and he would smile and laugh as he picked on us, all in good fun of course. I remember one shift in particular, we got off duty and she went to go visit them, as I got in my car for the 45 minute drive home. Within about ten minutes, my phone rang. It was "A", and she was hysterical. I couldn't understand what she was saying. It was all garbled, until I finally made out "it's daddy!'. I turned around and drove to her parent's house. I didn't bother to knock, the door was open and I went in. Her dad lay there on the floor of the hallway. He was purple. He was growing cool. He was dead. There was one cop there, and the sirens of the ambulance were still growing louder in the distance. I hugged her, the tears fell. My heart hurt. There was nothing I could do. We sat together and cried and cried and cried.

His wife had said he complained of horrible indigestion, so shehad gone to the store to get him some medicine. She arrived back at the house the same time "A" got there. Her dad collapsed where his wife had left him, apparently as soon as she went to the store. He never let on things were as bad as they were. They think it was his heart.

I went to the funeral. I hugged her kids- whom I had met several times before. I hugged her step mom. "A" and I talked. She didn't want to be there. Neither did I. Nobody did. This was part of the line of work we didn't deal with. The pain families and friends feel after a loved one dies is what we avoid at all costs.

"A", if you're reading this- I just wanted you to know I still think about your dad and "S". Give your kids a big hug for me. Hope you're doing well.

Death by ketchup

Listening to the radio today, I had some calls from memory lane come waltzing back to the forefront of the ole memory bank. One in particular stands out. I refer to that call as "death by ketchup".

A few years ago, I was working in a neighboring department and we were toned out to a possible suicide attempt. My partner and I arrived on scene of a newer, middle class home in a nice neighborhood. We parked the truck and headed toward the front door. Immediately I noticed the crime scene tape around the entire outside of the house. The driveway was taped off, the banister, railing, and posts of the front porch had yellow tape around them as well. We ducked under the tape and went to enter the house at the direction of the cops on scene. There are a few general rules we observe when responding to potential crime scenes- Don't become a victim, don't cut clothes where bullet holes are, don't step in blood. I lifted my foot and went to step on the hardwood floor of the entryway. My foot froze midair. I searched for a clean place to step. There was nowhere to step. The ENTIRE floor was covered in blood smears. The white walls had hand prints on them. There was blood smeared everywhere. There were bloody footprints On the white carpet, toes easily identifiable. Our patient had definitely gone for shock factor. The cops directed us to the kitchen, where we found a female, possibly mid thirties, on the floor. She had overdosed the night before, and had cut herself up the full length of her arms and behind both of her knees. Her cuts were long and deep. She wasn't dead yet, but she wasn't far from it. She was cold, ghostly pale, and was only breathing about six times a minute. We put her on a backboard and carried her off to the truck. I remember leaving the house and looking up- there was blood sprayed all over the ceiling of the kitchen and hallway!

We hauled tail to the hospital, and her condition didn't change. The ER took over, tried to stabilize her, and did what they could. To this day I have no idea if she lived or died. I do know that I was mad for a very long time when the cops showed up and informed us that only 50% of the "blood" in the house was really blood- the rest was ketchup. She had tried to go out with a bit of a dramatic flare- and had sprayed the ceiling with ketchup in neat arches and splattered sprays. She had cut herself and crawled around on her hands and knees on the hardwood floor, painting with her bodily fluids. She had eaten bottles of pills and passed out on her kitchen floor.

I remember that scene so vividly. The house was so new and so clean. It was scantily furnished, and there was a mattress on the living room floor. I remember seeing a child's toy there too. I remember the sadness I felt for the possibility that she had children who would suffer the most. I think about that call every once in a while. Mainly when I eat tater tots.

Grim Reaper

It's a slow Sunday here at my station, but the grim reaper has been making the rounds this morning elsewhere in the county. I heard another crew advise dispatch that they had an "obvious 48" around 8 this morning. Someone was dead, and beyond hope. That's not terribly unusual. What was unusual was that there were two more immediately after that at different locations, as well as a man that went into cardiac arrest while at a red light in traffic. So three dead people and one without a pulse who will probably be dead by the time this story hits the web, all within four hours of the shift starting this morning. That, my friends, is pretty darn strange here.

Edited to add- within six minutes of this bad boy being posted, another cardiac arrest was dispatched! Don't drink the water here today....

Suicide A La Roadkill

Don't worry. Despite the title this story isn't gross. It's not gory. No blood. No entrails. No random teeth strewn about the roadway. Dispatch sent us on our merry little goose chase by telling us that someone had called a state patrol officer via phone to report a "skinny white man" laying down the white stripe of the side of the road "attempting to commit suicide". I'm guessing that laying perpendicular to the flow of traffic might have upped his odds of leaving a greasy spot in the road just a smidgen. We headed for the intersection- a desolate country back road off a lonely country highway- and I couldn't help but giggle at the blank stares a cow gave as we drove by.

We checked said intersection, but found no "skinny white men" laying on the white line. The only object of interest on the side of the road was a mound of fur and a half of a jawbone, bleached from the sun. I'm guessing it used to be an opossum. (or is it "a possum"? I am south of the Mason-Dixon line, so not sure how to be grammatically correct here.) In either case it was unrecognizable.

We headed back for our station and passed a bridge near the landfill, where a young man was laying on the sidewalk. He had his ball cap pulled over his eyes, hands crossed on his belly, and appeared to be taking a siesta. He sat up when the cops gave a little warning chirp with their siren. Apparently he just needed a nap, and had decided that lonely country highway was the perfect spot for his slumber. He was young- maybe 18 or 20, and had a tee shirt six sizes too big on his torso. His lower half was garnished with long baggy basketball shorts at least ten sizes too big. They hung down to his ankles and drooped off his hips, showing his boxers. A price tag dangled from his baseball cap, that was tilted at an angle, thug style. I guess that's how we roll here in cow country.