Throughout one’s journey through their EMT and paramedic education, a student is taught a lot of skills, assessment techniques, and they are expected to retain a lot of medical knowledge.  All of that is done with one thing in mind: to make sure that their patient has the best possible outcome. Early on, we are taught CPR to help get someone’s heart going again.  We are taught to splint, to take vital signs, to administer medications that are intended to reduce suffering and save their lives.  No where in paramedic class are we taught to “just let them go.” I did my first code when I was just shy of my sixteenth birthday.  Like most cardiac arrests at the time, we did not save the patient, who died at home with his family.  I did not know how to react.  I did not know if I should be sad, if I should just brush it off, or if I should be angry and disappointed in myself for not getting him back.  With time, I was able to accept that death was part of this job, but it is not easy.  It goes against every prinicple that we are taught. I remember once I had a patient code right in front of me while we were transferring them from the stair chair to the stretcher.  Our time with the patient was short, but it was a typical code: IV, Epi, lots of CPR, and a quick transport to the hospital.  After we got there, the code continued for some forty minutes with the heart rhythm bouncing from PEA to Asystole to V-Fib to V-Tach, back and forth from rhythm to rhythm.  Despite the efforts of two paramedics, two EMTs, two doctors, some nurses, and a respiratory therapist, there was nothing that we could do. In my eleven years as a paramedic, I have done my fair share of cardiac arrests.  I have some saves, but have lost far more people than I have gotten back.  My attitude at this point: “I did my best for them, they did not make it.  It was their time.”  The call I just described was one of those.  A...

Those of us in the blogging community write for a number of different reasons.  We want to share our frustrations, educate our peers and the general public, and sometimes just share a story.  Regardless of our motivation we all have one common thread: we have something to say. A number of people out there have a fear of what might be said though.  They’re afraid that our profession or their specific service might be cast in a negative light.  A respectable blogger maintains a strict code of ethics both when it comes to telling stories about specific calls and patients, and when talking about the services that we work for.  Justin Schorr says it best: when he tells the story of a call, he tries to change as many identifiable features about the call that he can.  If the call was last week, he says it was last year.  If it was a 60 year old male, he writes the story about a 40 year old female.  His goal when talking about the call is to make it so that no one, not even the patient themselves will recognize what is being talked about. Regardless of the service one works for or what may go on at that service, a respectable blogger does not air their dirty laundry.  While frustrations about a partner, supervisor, or subordinate might be aired, this is done in such a way that, again, even those directly involved would have a difficult time identifying the incident or specific person being talked about. It’s all about being responsible, and it’s all about being constructive. Over the last two weeks, in two separate conversations with two EMS related bloggers that I respect very much, I have heard stories of them having to shut down their blogs due to the narrow-minded views of others, one by an educational institution, and the second by his employer. EMT and paramedic school can be a frustrating and exhilarating time.  I remember being told by my didactic instructor to forget about anything else going on in life, because that class was going to take precedence over anything else.  We were given a month at the end of...

Recently, I was asked to review the book We’re Not Leaving: 9/11 Responders Tell Their Stories of Courage, Sacrifice, and Renewal  by Dr. Benjamin J. Luft.  The book is a collection of stories from responders to the terrorist attacks on New York City on September 11, 2001.  Broken into five parts from more than thirty unique points of view, the book starts with the story of responders on the day of the attacks from the viewpoint of the police, EMTs, and firefighters.  The second section of the book deals with the days that followed the attacks and those who participated int he search for survivors.  Part three continues to deal with those who participated in the recovery efforts in the weeks and months following September 11th.  Part four was one of the most difficult for me to read.  It discussed the services, both mental and physical provided both at the site and away from it.  While their contributions were vital, I can only imagine the damage, heartache, and despair that they experienced and witnessed.  In the book’s final section, Renewal, talks about organizations established and contributions made for the long term benefit of the responders who participated throughout the ordeal. We’re Not Leaving is a well written, easy to read first person narrative account of the experiences of a number of different people connected to the 9/11 attacks.  Some powerful words and stories were shared, the most moving for me were some of the statements made by “Marvin” a paramedic who survived both collapses.  In my opinion, he sums up the struggles experienced by the EMS responders who participated that day: “And one of the things that I do resent with this whole 9/11 thing is – and no disrespect to the cops or firefighters, but just so we can make a point – everything was about the cops and the firefighters, and they act like the EMS (Emergency Medical Services) people were all on a fishing trip that day.  And I did not her anybody screaming for a cop or a fireman.  All I heard people screaming for were medics.  And even the cops and firefighters were screaming for medics.  But yet, the way the media...

After a busy September 10th I was looking forward to sleeping in on the 11th.  During my fourteen hour shift, my partner and I responded to nineteen calls.  It was an incredibly busy shift, and coupled with a few drinks afterwards at our favorite local establishment, I was ready for a morning off.  I was living in downtown Springfield in my nice little one bedroom apartment that I had occupied since graduating college earlier that year.  While I had my cell phone, I still had an apartment phone at that point, and its ringing woke me up just before 9am. I had no intention of getting out of bed so I let my answering machine pick it up.  After the greeting played and the beep sounded, my mother’s voice filled the room: “Hey, are you up?  If so, I’m sure you’re watching TV.  If not, I suggest you go turn the news on.  Call me.”  I rubbed my eyes and made my way into my living room, flopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote.  When I turned on the TV, I saw that one of the towers was on fire with reports of a plane having crashed into it.  “Must have been an airline accident” I thought.  Minutes later though, my worst fears were confirmed: as I sat on my couch, I watched United Airlines Flight 175 strike the second tower. We were under attack. I sat on my couch for the next couple of hours and watched history unfold before my eyes.  I was joined by a few friends for a couple of hours before it was time for me to head off to my Tuesday 3-11 shift.  When I went into work, I found that my partner and I were split up and I’d be working with an EMT for the day instead of my usual paramedic partner.  He was on a truck that had been deployed down into Connecticut with the anticipation that casualties from the attacks in New York City would be sent north due to overflow in the New York hospitals.  Those patients never arrived.  Everyone feared and prepared for the worst.  No one knew what to...

Throughout my childhood, there were three things that I feared: Jason from Friday the 13th, clowns, and public speaking. The first two are pretty common, I’d say.  What could be scarier than a psychopath in a hockey mask chasing you through the woods with a machete?  I challenge you to find me something.  And clowns?  Do we really even need to go there?  Whoever over the years decided that they were loveable or even funny needs to have their head checked. The fear of public speaking is shared by more people than I feel admit it.  I think that is because as they get older, avoiding getting up in front of a group of people becomes easier to avoid.  Most people start to gravitate towards the back of the room instead of the front and a desire to blend in rather than stand out takes over. Throughout my childhood, I quickly became more and more flustered when I had to get up in front of a group of people.  I can remember my hands sweating, and the death grip I had on a note card back as far as 5th grade.  Things didn’t improve as time went on either.  It was a nerve wracking part of high school and college.  I just could not do it.  It is hard for me to pinpoint why I couldn’t, but it just did not seem to be how I was wired. Over the last six or seven years, I’ve slowly chipped away at my fear, but I hadn’t completely defeated it.  I’ve taught some classes here and there, and spoke to some groups, but never really truly felt comfortable.  I realized though, especially in my year and a half of involvement with the podcasting and social media community that it was something I needed to overcome if I wanted to achieve the goals that I had set for myself. This year at EMS Today it was pointed out to me how many great EMS leaders are so comfortable in front of a room full of people.  People like Skip Kirkwood, Mic Gunderson, Mike Touchstone and countless others up in front of a room full of people talking...