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Why I Am Not a Paramedic Any More
allen griggs
Member Posts: 35,229 ✭✭✭✭
I worked as a paramedic at a small, country Georgia hospital for 14 years. The stress got to me and I had to bail out.
To begin with, I saw so many cases in which people who ought to have died, were kept alive by machines for days, weeks, and even months. See the Joan River thread. Nine times out of ten the family lacked the guts to pull the plug. I was horrified to see these pathetic, helpless patients kept needlessly alive, when there was no hope of resuscitation.
The other thing that stressed me out so much was seeing children die.
After several years on the job, it didn't bother me to see a grown adult die. I would work a car wreck, in which a 55 year old guy wrapped his car around an oak tree at midnight, maybe he had had a few drinks, and he was Dead Right There.
I figured, he had lived a life. He had the chance to go to college, or not go. He had the choice to join, or not join the military. He had the choice to have a family, or not have.
He had lived, for better or worse, 55 years. He died so quickly, he didn't know what hit him.
Also, this meant that he would not have a stroke, and waste away for 4 years in the nursing home, unable to walk or speak. He would not contract cancer, and waste away, as I saw so many patients do, waste away to where he was 125 pounds, helpless, and wearing a diaper for the last month, before he finally died.
After several years on the job, working a wreck where a guy died like that didn't bother me. Maybe that was proof that I had gone off the deep end.
But, I could never get used to seeing children die.
I worked a call in which, a little 8 year old black boy had been hit by a car. His mom and aunt worked in a beauty salon. They had taken him into town, to go to work one morning at 7 am. They watched as the little kid walked from the beauty salon, across the road to the school bus stop. And they saw the pickup hit him at 45 mph.
When we got there, the kid was dead. The mother and aunt were out in the road, weeping and shreiking, and holding onto the boy.
We pushed them away, and began working the call. My partner and I knew the kid was dead, right away. He had about 14 broken bones. But of course we did all we could. We hooked him up to the heart monitor, we gave several cardiac drugs, started oxygen etc.
The deputies arrived right after we did and I told the deputy to get that mother away from us so we could work. He pulled her to the side and she was shrieking and moaning.
We took the poor kid to the hospital; they "worked the code" for only about 10 minutes and called it off. That little boy was dead the minute the truck hit him.
I remember the crib death calls. I remember a call at an apartment building about 8 am one morning. A little 6 month old baby was dead in the crib. The baby was all blue and starting to get stiff, rigor mortis. There was nothing we could do. We pronounced the baby dead.
The poor mother was still shrieking and crying. At that point, we had to stand by and wait for the coroner to arrive.
It took 45 minutes for the coroner to get there. I couldn't stand hearing the poor mother wailing and crying, I told my partner, to stand by with the little baby, and I walked around to the back side of the apartment building, trying to get away from the wailing noise the mother was making.
It didn't work, and I stood out there, on that still Georgia morning, and listened to the mother's cries, from the back side of the apartment building.
I never got used to seeing a child die. After 11 years on the job the stress built up on me. I developed insomnia and would go a couple of days without sleeping.
Have you ever had insomnia? It is a real bad deal, take it from me.
The only way I could get any sleep was to self medicate with booze.
I had to bail out of the medical field.
To begin with, I saw so many cases in which people who ought to have died, were kept alive by machines for days, weeks, and even months. See the Joan River thread. Nine times out of ten the family lacked the guts to pull the plug. I was horrified to see these pathetic, helpless patients kept needlessly alive, when there was no hope of resuscitation.
The other thing that stressed me out so much was seeing children die.
After several years on the job, it didn't bother me to see a grown adult die. I would work a car wreck, in which a 55 year old guy wrapped his car around an oak tree at midnight, maybe he had had a few drinks, and he was Dead Right There.
I figured, he had lived a life. He had the chance to go to college, or not go. He had the choice to join, or not join the military. He had the choice to have a family, or not have.
He had lived, for better or worse, 55 years. He died so quickly, he didn't know what hit him.
Also, this meant that he would not have a stroke, and waste away for 4 years in the nursing home, unable to walk or speak. He would not contract cancer, and waste away, as I saw so many patients do, waste away to where he was 125 pounds, helpless, and wearing a diaper for the last month, before he finally died.
After several years on the job, working a wreck where a guy died like that didn't bother me. Maybe that was proof that I had gone off the deep end.
But, I could never get used to seeing children die.
I worked a call in which, a little 8 year old black boy had been hit by a car. His mom and aunt worked in a beauty salon. They had taken him into town, to go to work one morning at 7 am. They watched as the little kid walked from the beauty salon, across the road to the school bus stop. And they saw the pickup hit him at 45 mph.
When we got there, the kid was dead. The mother and aunt were out in the road, weeping and shreiking, and holding onto the boy.
We pushed them away, and began working the call. My partner and I knew the kid was dead, right away. He had about 14 broken bones. But of course we did all we could. We hooked him up to the heart monitor, we gave several cardiac drugs, started oxygen etc.
The deputies arrived right after we did and I told the deputy to get that mother away from us so we could work. He pulled her to the side and she was shrieking and moaning.
We took the poor kid to the hospital; they "worked the code" for only about 10 minutes and called it off. That little boy was dead the minute the truck hit him.
I remember the crib death calls. I remember a call at an apartment building about 8 am one morning. A little 6 month old baby was dead in the crib. The baby was all blue and starting to get stiff, rigor mortis. There was nothing we could do. We pronounced the baby dead.
The poor mother was still shrieking and crying. At that point, we had to stand by and wait for the coroner to arrive.
It took 45 minutes for the coroner to get there. I couldn't stand hearing the poor mother wailing and crying, I told my partner, to stand by with the little baby, and I walked around to the back side of the apartment building, trying to get away from the wailing noise the mother was making.
It didn't work, and I stood out there, on that still Georgia morning, and listened to the mother's cries, from the back side of the apartment building.
I never got used to seeing a child die. After 11 years on the job the stress built up on me. I developed insomnia and would go a couple of days without sleeping.
Have you ever had insomnia? It is a real bad deal, take it from me.
The only way I could get any sleep was to self medicate with booze.
I had to bail out of the medical field.
Comments
When someone, who by any standard, ought NOT to survive... Does so and survives.
But the heroes in my mind... Are the Emergency Techs... The ones on the front lines.
Usually with a minimum of equipment... Work actual miracles solely on their personal experience and knowledge.
Often with their bare hands...
It takes a special person to do that kind of job... Be an EMT.
Allen... My hat's off to you for being that person as long as you possibly could.
The fact that you did so 14 or more years... Is 14 years more than I could have.
I thank you for your work with those who needed it.
And IMO... You're a better person for it.
I have always said people in your position or similar are special , to take the job of doing your best to save any one is a great deed , I am not a true religious person , But I do think there should be a express line for the after life for such deeds ,
I have know several in the line of work your in including undertaker's all have the same deep regret for kids , thank you for all you did , and I am sure there is countless people still with us for what you did , it has to be a bad feeling to loose some fights but we are just mortal. please think of all the lives and families you made happy ,
may you enjoy what ever new endeavor you take on ,
when younger I was close to becoming a volunteer in the small town I live by , but after some deep thought like you faced I did not do it
I ought to know: I suffered a cardiac arrest and spent nine days in a mechanical ventilator.
Paramedics are my heroes indeed.
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Godspeed, man. You fought the good fight.
I worked as a paramedic at a small, country Georgia hospital for 14 years. The stress got to me and I had to bail out.
...
I had to bail out of the medical field.
With some similar experiences and background, I'm completely sympathetic to what you write. Not wanting to distract from what you wrote I'll keep my story out of this thread. Except to say that for me the end of my service also came from the children, and finally, one particular child.
Writing or talking about it is a good thing. Sometimes it's better to let the steam out of a pressure cooker than to just keep watching the gauge climb higher, thinking it can all be held back by shear strength.
Sometimes, the right people survive.
I ought to know: I suffered a cardiac arrest and spent nine days in a mechanical ventilator.
Paramedics are my heroes indeed.
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AMEN!!
I've many a time had to perform chest CPR with another Corpsman performing lung resuscitation...all the while waiting for dustoff to come in.
Sadly, only about three pct. made it to the Evac okay, but I'm good to go with that.
What a glorious three percent!! Best.
I sincerely hope that you have someone to do that for you too.
I don't see how ANYONE does that job after seeing what Larry dealt with.
There are a few memories of bad times, I'm glad I got out, but I'm glad I did it.
Teaching CPR/First aid to the new classes of girls at the local dental tech college and nursing school was an unforgettable perk. I actually volunteered for that part.
What was that Nicolas Cage movie where he's an ambulance driver?
Bringing out the dead was the movie.
The term ambulance driver is demeaning to the profession, FYI.