It was only eight in the evening, and really, it had been a slow shift. I was working with a part-timer that night, a cop that had just certified as an EMT-Basic. The plektron on the desk sounded and we lifted ourselves out of the recliners as the dispatcher intoned “medic 4, respond for an intoxicated female, unconscious, lying in front of the Sheldon Apartments.”
At least there won’t be any surprises.
My partner, Chris, hadn’t worked much at the south end of the county so I gave him the turn by turn directions to the apartment complex. We pulled into the parking lot to see two police cruisers and another two police SUVs parked in front of one of the five buildings. All four of the cops had shit-eatin grins on their faces and just pointed down the hallway as we walked approached. Clearly, they were enjoying themselves.
Our patient was a 230 pound female in her 50s, wearing a too-short little black dress and white leather jacket. Apparently, she already had been out on the town as she was fall over drunk. Her neighbor was standing at her side, supporting her when we came up. She was droopy eyed, smelled like booze, and had an extreme slur to her words. Of course, she told us she’d only had “a couple” of drinks, but the neighbor was reporting it was at least a whole bottle of vodka.
I directed my partner to bring the gurney up since I didn’t want her walking and falling. We spun her around and sat her on the edge of the gurney and all the while she was trying to flirt with us. “You’re cute,” she would say, dragging the words out. We started to belt her in, when I noticed a large bulge in the sleeve of her coat. I straightened her arm and extracted a near empty bottle of Smirnov Vodka from her sleeve.
“Hey guys,” I hollered over to the cops. “Do you think you might have missed something?”
“Where’d you find that?” the sergeant replied.
“Up her sleeve, man. That could have done some damage.”
At first, our patient was compliant, but became restless after we took her booze away. Chris and I were having a little trouble getting the seatbelts fastened since she wouldn’t stop moving around. I was standing next to the cot, trying to get the waist belt clasped when it happened.
She reached out with her left hand, quickly and with purpose, and grabbed hold of my crotch.
Immediately, I went from irritated to full-on pissed off. I took a step back, unlatched her hand and fired off a “you keep your hands to yourself!” I was stunned and it was the only thing I could think to say. But oh, things would get worse.
She was a loud drunk, with few inhibitions, and as my partner and I tried to finish packaging her, she started yelling. “Boy, you’ve got soft balls! I want to touch your balls!”
The cops were still standing by and began laughing. “Guys, could we get some help?”
With the cops help, we finished with the seatbelts and wheeled her towards the ambulance. I was red faced with anger and she wouldn’t stop yelling, “your balls are so soft!” And when we were just about ready to load the gurney, she reached out with her right hand and got a hold of my partner.
My patience was gone. As soon as the gurney was locked into place, I told Chris to get the restraints out. He was in the CPR seat, trying to dodge her groping and get the restraints, while I was on the bench doing the same. Through continued cries of “I want your balls!” we fought to keep her hands off of us. She was kicking her legs now, loosening the leg straps and doing her best to get off of the cot. And again, while the cops were standing by and laughing, I had to ask to get them inside to help us. One of the cops sat on her knees while the other climbed into the airway seat and put her into a kind of headlock.
She was getting more and more violent. I had to pin her arm against the edge of the cot with my knee and I worried (but only slightly) that I would break it as she fought against us. She kept trying to pick her head up and bite anyone that came near. We put the restraints on, but with her fighting, couldn’t get them tight enough to do any good. Chris put an oxygen mask over her face to keep her from biting or spitting. Her writhing and fighting was getting worse and worse. She would growl, trying to move the mask with her tongue, then try to bite it out of the way. Then she’d launch into another “I want your balls! Let me touch your balls!” It honestly reminded me of something out of The Exorcist.
Enough was enough. With two previous belligerent drunks, I wasn’t going to let another get the best of me or my partner. I opened up the drug kit and pulled out the inapsine. Using my trauma shears, I cut up the sleeve of her leather coat from cuff to collar without even a second thought and jammed that needle into her arm. I gave her a 5mg dose, slamming the plunger. I told everyone to back off, that she’d relax in a minute.
Within the next ten minutes, we were rolling were rolling our patient into the ER. By that time she was well and truly unconscious. She had snoring respirations at maybe 8 per minute and was only rousable by a deep sternal rub. If we had been any further out from the hospital, I would have considered some airway adjuncts of the nasal kind. Casey, a short, blonde ER nurse with a “if you tell me I’m cute I’ll kick your ass” kind of attitude, met as in the hall. She had her hands on her hips and her eyes were a little squinted when she asked, “you gave her five of inapsine?”
Without breaking my stride, “that’s right.” You see, this hospital recently had a patient with a poor outcome after allegedly receiving too much inapsine. They didn’t want a repeat performance. Frankly, I couldn’t have given a damn.
The cops walked in behind us, still grinning from ear to ear when I began my report. They only nodded their heads up and down in verification as I relayed the events, pantomiming the “violation” when the nurses asked, “what do you mean she grabbed you?” Having heard the entirety of the events, the nurses were sympathetic and didn’t question me again about the sedation.
I took a breath and stepped back then. The nurses were at work getting her clothes off, drawing blood and placing a catheter. Still simmering with anger, I took my gloves off only to discover three deep scratches on my left wrist. “Damnit!”
“What?” Chris looked over at me.
“She fucking scratched me! Do you realize the amount of paperwork I have to fill out now? Fucking incident and exposure forms, and I’ve got to call the Sup. Damnit!”
The officers, having had their fill of fun watching the ambulance do what should have been there job, looked at me. “Do you want to file charges?”
“No. It’s not worth the trouble.” Besides, I’d got to knock her ass out and cut up her fancy leather coat. I figured we were even, in a sense.
*****
There’s a lesson in all of these. For starters, don’t let me mislead you to think that I take pleasure in “kicking the ass” of a patient. It is my sincere hope that a call doesn’t escalate to the point where restraint of any kind is necessary. However, it is my primary responsibility to protect myself, my partner, and other responders first, sometimes to the determinant of the patient. In this particular case, it was necessary to chemically restrain the patient, to “knock her ass out,” to control the scene and maintain our safety.
The lesson here, and what I preach to my partners but took three calls to put into action, is maintaining control of the scene to maintain your safety. A drunk patient may not be acting of sound mind (we know this, of course) and may in fact want to do us harm. Do what needs to be done to protect yourself.
Stay safe.
The lesson here, and what I preach to my partners but took three calls to put into action, is maintaining control of the scene to maintain your safety. A drunk patient may not be acting of sound mind (we know this, of course) and may in fact want to do us harm. Do what needs to be done to protect yourself.
Stay safe.
Posts
7 comments:
While I agree that you (and other medics) need to do what you need to do to protect yourself, your writing style seems to show a disturbing level of enjoyment . The fact that you "got even" with your altered patient by "knocking her out and cutting up her leather coat" shows that you may need to look at your patient care/compassion skills.
I think medics should be allowed chemical sedation when needed, but from reading your take on this event, and the other "drunks" you've dealt with, you seem a little "quick on the plunger" when it comes to the potential use of inapsine.
Be grateful you even have a restraint protocol, nevermind one that allows chemical restraint- on standing order, even.
Quick on the needle? Hell no. My crews safety always comes first. She probably didn't need a ride to the hospital but to jail. The only problem is most jails can't and won't take them that intoxicated. So here we come to provide the drunk a taxi ride to sober up. A patient that has AMS due to trauma or a medical reason, will also get restrained and drugged if necessary to protect them and my crew. Being drunk is no excuse for bad behavior. Great post btw. Cracked me up and gave me a little flashback to the guy who tried to whip it out and pull me into his lap. LOL
Anonymous7:38 must not have any experience on the street. The leather coat was cut for a very good reason, not for retribution. I suspect any "enjoyment" was secondary. I think we've all seen some jerk "get what they deserved" and derived a little perverse satisfaction from it.
And has it occurred to you, Anon, that someone can do an exemplary job with patient care, and still think that patient is a f***ing waste of skin? Just ask any EMT, Paramedic or ER team member who's saved the life of a drunk driver who's killed an innocent person, rather than letting the drunk lie there and bleed to death?
Thank you for the support, everyone. I value the opinions and comments of anyone that would like to post. I'm not interested in starting a "battle" with the first anonymous commenter over who was right or wrong. My response to their comment can be found in the following post.
Both you and Anonymous have valid points. We all 'enjoy' it when we take down a violent drunk. Perhaps 'enjoy' is the wrong word. We all get a natural 'high' from an adrenaline rush which we find enjoyable, wether the event itself was enjoyable or not. At 25 you do have a lot of growing up to do. No just you, but ANY 25 year old. Personally I can only find two faults with the actions in regards to 'Drunks3'. For one thing, blogging about it could put you in an interesting legal situation in the future. If a seasoned medic like Anonymous can interpret malice in your words, imagine how a jury of uninformed, impressionable lay people my find them. Second, you should have pressed charges. Do you think if she had caused physical injury to a cop she wouldn't have been charged? A paramedic in your parent company was assaulted and sent to the hospital last year and the suspect was released. Apparently, assaulting a paramedic is only a misdemeanor and not a felony as it would be to assault a police officer or firefighter. Respect is not given, it is earned and then demanded. Paramedics have earned the respect and protection of the law, now it is time we demand that people who assault us are prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
Regards, dvldoc13
Anybody with any time on the street will encounter this patient. In some systems many times more then others. Frustration levels run high and sometimes they get the best of you. Even in frustration sometimes people lash out. Yes lay people don't understand. That's why when they say a jury of your peers I would fight for a jury of your true peers. People who have been in the same situation the same amount of times.
I agree these calls should be police matters. When the stress of EMS causes you to lash out at patients in a aggressive way, that gets you enjoyment. It is time to take some time off the streets.
I would not make judgement by the blog but what was in your heart when you did.
Post a Comment