My Relief

I live in a small town, part of a small county. I know most of the firemen and EMTs in the county by first name. I'm familiar with dozens of frequent patients, care center staff members, and nurses. Because of the closeness of it all, I've also run calls on family members and friends.

I've run on my uncle when he had a massive heart attack, I took my brother to Portland for an appendicitis, I've been on friends of my wife and parents, and just last shift, I transported my sister in law.

I was on the phone with my mom last shift while my mom and dad were driving back from Portland over highway 26. We had to cut our conversation short because cell phone reception tends to cut in and out over the pass. About 10 minutes after hanging up, my partner and I are dispatched to an MVA on highway 26 at milepost 26, a very common milepost for accidents. Now, it took a moment or two, but then I realized that milepost 26 would be right where my parents would have been.

Code 3 out to accident, I couldn't shake the terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that I would be seeing my parent's crumpled car off the side of the road. I thought about terrible scenarios like having to intubate my own mother. I prayed the entire drive out that the size-up we'd get from fire would be a positive on. One vehicle, two injuries is all that we heard.

We rounded the last corner approaching the scene, numerous fire and police cars parked along the shoulder, next to a steep embankment. We slowed to park and I saw my parent's car parked on the shoulder between a state police cruiser and a rescue truck, but it didn't look damaged. Still, I was fearing the worst. The firemen had two patients c-spined on the shoulder of the road, but I couldn't see the patients because the firemen were crowding around them. I placed us on scene, then exited the ambulance and approached the commanding officer.

He began giving my a brief report as I surveyed the scene. There were skid marks on the highway, crossing both lanes. I saw flashlights a hundred feet down the embankment where a car had landed. Then I start looking over towards the patients and I see a familiar white haired head suddenly look up, a stethoscope draped around his neck. There was my dad, a First Responder with Seaside, directing patient care. The relief that I immediately felt took over completely and for a few moments, I wasn't even listening to the firefighter. But I recovered quickly and went to work on the patients.

Looking over to the second patient, there was my mom, no medical training whatsoever but wearing a pair of medical gloves and holding c-spine on the second patient. Relief again as I walked over, touched mom gently on the shoulder to let her know I was there, then continued to work. We transported both patients, minor injuries that had self extricated from the vehicle, back to Providence Seaside.

I talked to my dad the next day and he told me they came across the accident just minutes after it occurred, before police or fire had arrived. He always carries a small jump kit in his car and he grabbed it and went to work assessing patients. He said when he turned, my mom had a pair of gloves on and was asking how she could help. Right then, I couldn't have been more proud of my mom and dad, or more relieved that they were okay.

My second biggest fear in this job is running a call on family member or friend (my first biggest fear is not being able to find the address). I live in such a small place that there is no paramedic back-up, no one to take over when I find myself caring for a loved one. It's a difficult thing and one of the things that makes working in a small system so unique.