Not a political post, I assure you. This is about a section of the population that needs to come to terms with their limited abilities. And to remind PAs that I am in charge of patient care at a scene.

THE EMERGENCY

Caller states there has been a car accident and one person appears shaken up.

THE ACTION

Shaken up. OK. Out the doors and a few blocks down we see a large SUV into a light pole, newspaper machines and trash cans in the sidewalk, 2 parking meters down for the count and a little old lady seated behind the wheel of a little hatchback behind the SUV.

Blink. Blink.

The SUV was empty and parked, our little friend is alert and oriented, sitting behind the wheel, clearly upset at what has happened. I think she would likely get out of the car and be fine if it weren’t for the half dozen samaritans encouraging her to go and get “checked out.”

I introduce myself to the group and they all start to tell the story, each pointing different directions and saying different things. Quickly, I duck down and make contact, she is not injured and has no complaints. She describes not having parallel parked in years, let alone on a hill like this, and hit the gas a little to hard backing up (she points over her shoulder to the uphill parking meter). Then she gunned the gas a little too much instead of letting the car roll forward. (She points forward towards the mess down the hill). When she realized what was happening, she tried to hit the brakes, but her foot was still on the gas. She pushed that SUV right up off the street and onto what is usually a crowded sidewalk.

As I completed my assessment and she blushingly refuses an ambulance, a man approaches to ask me if she had a TIA.
“I don’t think it appropriate to discuss her condition with strangers, do you know this man?” I asked her seeing her shaking her head.
“I’m a PA,” he advises, removing his sun glasses, “Are you OK Dear?” He asked her as if talking to a three year old.
“Sir, I have this scene under control, and she has a name if you’d care to ask.” Was my smart ass response that got his attention off of her and onto me, as planned.

“You guys sure have a lot of attitude,” he observed looking me up and down, perhaps looking for my Registry Certificate, State and County Licenses, 48 hours of continuing education, Bachelor’s Degree, instructor’s certificate and years of assessments. I keep them in my other pants.

“I would have her checked out if I was you.” And away he went, placing his sunglasses back on as if nothing was wrong.

“Who was that man?” my client asked looking up at me from the seat of the car, holding her insurance information and license.
It was then that all the BS around that man faded away and I saw what was going to happen to my friend. There is no way her insurance rates will stay affordable, likely resulting in her losing the car. The freedom she has known for close to 70 years of driving will be gone. Then she’ll have to walk to the market, that is until her knees give out. Then she’ll be stuck at home. And the PA so concerned for 80 seconds will never stop by to lend a hand.

The dispatch is for an unknown medical aid.

I press the button for the rickety elevator, wondering how long the trip up to the fifth floor will be.

“Mid 40s female…overdose,” the Fireman says.

I pause

“Early 60s male, respiratory issues,” is my reply.

“Lunch and dinner?” He asks, hand outstretched.
“Lunch and dinner,” and we shake hands as the elevator opens and we pile in.
The ride is shorter than we expected, and we made it all the way up.

As the door rumbles open there is a distinct odor of urine and an open door just down the hall.
“In here!” a tired male voice calls. I turn to enter the little room and see, on the bed, a man in his 60s having trouble breathing, holding onto a woman in her 40s with an altered mental status.

“Well that was anti-climactic” the boss says and we go to work.

Later that night we bought each other’s meals just to keep the spirit of the game going.

I’m working a 48 at a decently busy house when, early on day two we start to notice something extraordinary. Everyone I’ve touched has been cured on the spot. Call them miracles, call it a practitioner’s energy, what have you, but don’t burst my bubble by saying they weren’t sick in the first place. That’s just cruel.

PATIENT 1

A middle aged man at the local gym. The staff heard him singing one minute, then passed out cold on the floor the next. We arrived and found him supine, the water off, his skin still warm. I reached down to check his pulse when his eyes opened and he came to life. “What happened?” he asked me, standing and covering himself with the towel nearby. “You tell me,” I tell him and he does. He’s been up for two days straight and just finished a basketball game with friends. He remembers the water being so warm and inviting…then found himself on the floor. He awoke to my touch. Miracle.

PATIENT 2

Activated to a street corner for the severe asthma attack. The address is well known for drug traffic and asthmatics who rarely refill THAT prescription. the Police officers at the corner are waving frantically as we turn the engine down the last block. They run to my door, not the lieutenant’s door, but mine. This must be serious. “She’s barely breathing, hurry!” I’m told so I grab the bag and hustle over to where they pointed. A woman is leaning over the bed of a pickup truck with her head down. I quickly reach for her chin to assess her breathing when she slaps my hand away. Effective motor control for someone in distress. “Can you breathe?” I ask. “No, I can’t. I have asthma real bad.” Is her response. the stethoscope is out and under her intentional grunting is clear air movement, even way down in the lower lobes.
I can hear a bit of the conversation in the background between my lieutenant and the police.
“She wants into the apartment, hubby won’t let her in, she told us she needs her asthma machine and to call you.”
“I don’t think this is asthma,” reaching down to check her pulse rate, “is there anything-”
“Fine, thank you.” She interrupted standing, straightening her shirt and walking over to the officers. “Will you let me in now or not?”
As the ambulance crew arrived I told them the situation and they agreed I had the magic touch. For sure.

PATIENT 3

An elderly man was seen being escorted from the commuter train, pale and sweating, by two adult males. In this time of increased security, the guard decided to give 911 a ring. When I arrive in the bathroom, the man turns out to have been escorted to the train by his two adult sons, who were concerned he wouldn’t make it to the toilet in time. They reluctantly open the stall door and there he is, pale, cool skin covered in sweat, and a look of embarrassed discomfort on his face. “I’ll be fine as soon as I can go.” I’m thinking the same thing you are so I reach for his pulse rate when he groans. Honestly, the moment I touched him, he pooped and instantly felt better. “My medication makes me constipated.” He says. And my supernatural powers do the opposite my friend.

PATIENT 4

Sometimes you really can talk sense into your regulars, especially when they try playing your game. This time our friend in the lobby of the motel tells us of an elaborate cardiac procedure performed earlier that day that should have meant a scar and a few more days of observation, but hey, at least he’s trying. I explain the details of the procedure and how long I spent in school to learn that as he fidgets with 3 of his 4 extremeties. As my EMT is taking vitals and holding one arm still, the other begins to fidget around. This man’s nervous system is clearly in massive overdrive and the blisters on his lips give me a good idea what’s happening. When I place my hand on his shoulder to get his attention he straightens up, looks at me and says, “If you think nothing is wrong then I don’t care, I’m going back to sleep.” And wandered back up the stairs.
The lieutenant walked up and asked if I’d be willing to touch his throat, he’s had a cough as of late. I told him he should wait until I wash my hands. My miracle hands.

PATIENT 5

Anxiety impacts a large portion of our population and our friend called today because he refilled his prescription for anti-anxiety pills, but sold them for heroin instead. We’ve all been there, right? He walks out of the hallway alert, oriented and breathing fine, all the while telling me he can’t breathe. I talk him through some breathing exercises, slowly calming him and he feels better. As the ambulance pulls up he waves them off. I haven’t touched him yet and am wondering if it’s a fluke. As the ambulance turns the corner he starts to breathe quickly again telling me he needs the pills or he won’t get better.
“Look at me,” I say taking his arm to focus him, “You don’t need those. We didn’t use them today, it’s all about controlling your breathing.” He smiled, turned around and walked away. I turned to the crew, each with a different variation of “WTF” on their face and thought to myself, “This is totally going in the blog.”