27 February 2005

Not for the Weak at Heart

28 February 2005

"Not for the Weak at Heart"

Well. I was actually in the middle of an entry when I was researching something to add to my blog in regards of suicide....

When I came across this...

Click here...but be warned

All I can say is WHAT THE F***!!!!!

You know, suicide, itself is a very scary topic and an extremely vunerable time in which a person feels alone and hurt.  The thought that someone wants to take their own life and bypass self preservation is beyond comphrension to us, the lay person, and 99% of the time poses the question "why?"

Many orgainzations throughout the country, along with police, fire, and EMS work hard to prevent these tragedies everyday and even if one person is saved, a sense of gratification is lived within.

But then this....

This guide.

A step by step guide as to how to kill yourself.





Sorry, I fell out of my chair in disbelief.

Here is my thoughts on this.

Dude, what the Hell were you thinking when you wrote this?  I mean, do you really think that someone is going to go "Wow, I am depressed and I want to end  it all right now, but I have no clue as to how to do it. I wonder if there is a book for it?"

If they call for it within the first 20 minutes, do they get a free obituary or something.

Get F***ing real!!!!!!!!! (sorry for the profanity, I am really fueled right now.)

Skimming through this, it seems that you, the author, have methodically thought this through, yet you still live to produce this crap that is open to any child to find on the internet. (BTW. I found this site on Google...and no passwords or warnings were given when I opened the site).

You know, living in this world today is tough enough as it is with all the war, the poverty, and the commercialization of everything that used to be free and enjoyable within itself for someone like you (again, the author) to go and muck it up for someone.

Here is a little bit of a retort for your so-called publication.

Over 90% of the people who attempt suicide, don't really want to do it. It is a cry for help, I will admit, but who are we to judge them and assist them in taking a relative easy way out. We are not God, we are not judge, jury, or executioner.  Everyone has problems, and most of them can be worked out. Yes, it may take some time, but is it really worth offing yourself for it.

The sad and pathetic thing is that I bet people actually read this for insight and think "Hmm..now that sounds like a plan." 

As I look at the web address, I see the word "satan" in it. Now, although, I believe in God, I am not gonna go theological on you, but I will let you in on a little secret.


Give it up, bro. Whether they say it or not. No one wants to die of free spirit or on a whim because a boyfriend or girlfriend broke up with them.  They are being driven on sheer emotion and once the clouds lift, a clarity will surcome them that will show them that there is meaning in life...and that there is always hope.

Okay, I am done rambling. I could go on, but I may throw something.

Let me all know what you think. I have to go and throw up now.

Rounding Third and Heading Home,


21 February 2005

The Stand-off

20 February 2005

"The Stand-off"

Fate: n ('fAt)

1 : the principle or determining cause or will by which things in general are believed to come to be as they are or events to happen as they do : DESTINY
2 a : an inevitable and often adverse outcome, condition, or end b :
DISASTER; especially : DEATH

Do you believe in fate?  Do you believe that for every chance meeting, every event, every moment in one's life is due to some sort of freak alignment in the celestial unknown above us.  Do you believe that one event in one's existance can spark a chain reaction creating the path that we lead and the lives that we live?

Think about it.

0512 Hours

Opening my eyes, I felt the sleep ambiate throughout my body as the darkness of the room was illuminated only by the faint red of the alarm clock that laid to rest next to me. Figuring out what was real and what was still a dream, I determined that the sound of the phone hitting the hook was not only real, but time to override the mind and get my butt out of bed.

"Okay, let's go." Ken said wiping the sleep from his eyes.

Awaking from the best sleep that I had in a long time, I threw my boots on and meandered to the truck. (You meander at 5 AM.)

Opening the door to the squad, this is what I saw.

Two of them...

 (I did say two so here is the other one)

Both were going at a high rate of speed with their lights on.  Seeing them, I could only ponder a guess as to where we were going.

Somewhere after them.

Looking on the MDT, my suspicions were soon confirmed...and it was gonna prove tobe a long, long morning.

 (This is one of the MDTs that are in one of our older vehicles,or one like it. I will tell you more about these later.)

The MDT read...

"50M suicidal with a gun".

Call me when he DOESN'T have the gun.

Ken got into the truck and asked if I knew what we were going for and I nodded in confirment. The call was 2 blocks away. We drove down there without lights or sirens.

Taking the quick jog down, we parked about 5 houses up from the actual site where a good 6-8 police cruisers laid parked.  I just knew we would be here for a while.

Ken turned our secondary radio to the police frequency. They have already cleared the channel for this incident. From the sounds of the officers, it sounded to be a little tense.

Unable to see inside the apartment from the outside, the police approached with more caution. One radio transmission even stated that the person inside was shooting at the door.  God...please don't get shot.

After about 20 minutes, the radios all went quiet. Movement around the apartment building where he was ceased. It was the quietest, yet most suffocating feeling that you can ever imagine.

Ken and I listened for any signs of life...

None were given.

About an hour into the stand-off, more police showed up carrying riot gear and shields.  It looked like a plan was going to be formulated. It looks like they were going to go in.

0630 Hours.

Still no sign from either side as to how this was going to go...until...


Then, radio traffic.

"Tell the squad to come in the driveway." I could hear an officer tell the dispatcher.

Listening in, Ken put the truck in drive and moved down the street to the scene. 

There, out of the darkness of the early morning, emerged two police officers with the male subject handcuffed, unhurt, and most importantly, unarmed.

Assisting him into the truck, I couldn't distingush what was worse, the smell of alcohol that he wreaked of, or the imminent pepper spray that came from his clothing and skin. I can only assume that he was taken by force.

I placed him on the cot and secured him as best as I could. Asking him if he was okay (I know it seemed like a stupid question, but I asked anyways), he began to become beligerant and uncooperative with me.


I tried to get a blood pressure when he tried to head butt me. Remember, this is a big no-no...for any EMS personnel.

Instead of getting aggressive, which, at this point I had every right to be, I just let him go. After all, the man is depressed. Stating "my wife just died" and "I didn't call you".

A mixture of alcohol and sheer emotion had created a man that probably wasn't himself, and to be honest, probably had the right to feel suicidal.

Of course I don't want him to actually kill himself, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. (For them, I want them to hurt a lot...lol).

Looking at him, I quickly placed the face as a regular in whom I had taken in the past but not recently. However, his face rang a bell for some other reason...a reason I would soon find out.

Whisking him to the ER, we proceeded to go inside and place him in a bed.  The quieter the enviorment, the louder he got. More "I just want to talk to my daughter" and "My wife just died".  Then he did something that placed it all together for me. Something that I had long tried to forget, but for some reason, lingers about me.

He called for the ER secretary as if he knew her. She wasn't there that night, but it flipped a switch...and I felt a chill go through me.

February 19, 2004  

2336 Hours.

Putting some gloves on, The voice from up front yelled back at me as I gathered some equipment together to take into the house.

"You want me to call for a paramedic intercept?" the driver asked me.

Telling him to get one started, I began to get my game plan together as to who was going to do what and execute it.

This time last year, I was not a paramedic so needing a higher level of help, I needed to call for it.

Arriving on scene, the driver parked the fire department issued ambulance into the driveway. I sprung out from the back and proceeded into the house. racing to the bedroom, I found a female on the floor, lifeless, with her husband doing CPR.  Beginning my routine, we bagan resuscitative efforts to the patient.  The quarters were small and crampted and just to shock her, I had to lay on the bed and hang over the edge.

Working her, I awaited the paramedic unit to arrive, when something caught my attention.

Have you ever been in a busy crowd and it really don't phase you as to what anyone is talking about until that one trigger word catches your attention? This was that time.

"Hello...yeah, it's Tammy (not her real name). She doesn't have a pulse. Yeah...the fire department is here now>" the male voice said over the phone.

At that point, all sound stopped. All I could hear was my heartbeat. I turned to look at the patient's face. It was someone that I knew. It was someone that I worked with. It was someone close to home.

A secretary in the ER where we went to, she became one of the family as everyone in that deparment does.

My intensity tripled at this point. I was determined to save her. I was not to give up.

The intercept showed up. We loaded the patient...and took off to the hospital.

Inside, every member of the emergency room showed and like one of those scenes in "ER" where the doctors and nurses ran beside the cot as the paramedics brought the patient in, the feeling of scrutiny and determination took effect.

No one wanted to give up on her. No one did.

After two and a half grueling hours, the patient was pronounced dead.

A feeling of defeat overcame the hospital and all surrounding communities.  Her loss is still felt.

Apparently, she was sent home earlier in the day because she wasn't feeling well and her blood pressure went up a great deal.  She thought she had the flu. It was something more serious.

0645 Hours

Looking at the man in the face, the picture came back to me. Whisking me to my past, the suicidal man who placed a burden upon himself, was the man on the phone in that room.

He was the patient's husband.

My heart sank even more.

All he wanted was someone to talk to. So he called his daughter...and told him he had a gun and wanted to end it.

She called the police. They called us. And that is where we are now.

I left before I could find out more as the early morning call volume picked up.

Leaving the hospital, the snow began to fall as a medium blue overtook the darkness of the night sky.  I said a prayer for him. I can feel his pain.

Fate. Destiny. Chance. Whether you believe it or not, it is a part of our lives. For me, it is a big part as to who I am and what I believe. I mean, if it wasn't for all that, I wouldn't be here with you right now...and you wouldn't be reading this.

It was his chance that put us together one year apart. It was his destiny to live on. It was fate that remains for him to live on...as it does all ofus...one day at a time.

Rounding Third and Heading Home,


17 February 2005

The McBig One

17 February 2005

"The McBig One"


Ahh yes.  One of the symbols of the American lifestyle.

Back in the mid 50's, A pioneer (Actually, a milkshake machine salesman) named Ray Kroc, came up with the idea which would start a revolution today.  Who would have thought that a tiny little hamburger stand ran by Dick and Mac McDonald in Illinois would take off to be one of the most recognized symbols in our society today.

Today, it boast one of the most busiest and most visited restaurants in the world.  With a target group for younger Americans, it is visited by people of all ages, races, and income as the place where friends and happiness go hand in hand.

Some people start their day off with McDonald's every morning, some finish their shifts by it. 

The Chiche "Live by the sword, die by the sword" is devoted to these individuals..as we are about to find out.

1423 Hours

Putting a new IV bag in the warmer, I closed the back door to the squad as the snow started to blow in. The few days of 50+ degree weather had come and gone and it was back to the harsh reality of the winter season. Squeezing the monitor back on the shelf (we were in the back up truck and things didn't quite fit the way they were supposed to) I met Ken and away we went to the station to try to get caught up on some calls that we were behind.

The run volume today was a little higher than normal and I began to feel it in my bones...and my clothes.  The last patient we had was described as lethargic and "just not acting right". No one told us that she was also incontinent. We found out the hard way...with a river all over the stair chair that we moved her in.  Now, her smell was my smell...and it lingered reminding you that it was there everytime that I moved my arm...


I just wanted to change my clothes. I just wanted to shower up.  I just wanted to make it back to the station.

HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!

Yeah, right.

Tones Drop.

The voice comes over the radio.

Ken picks up the mic.

I sigh deeply.

"92, I need you to respond to XXX Street, McDonalds, for a male passed out in the parking lot."

Lights on, siren blaring, we began to proceed the 8 blocks from the hospital to the scene.

Pulling out some gloves, I am wondering is this a homeless guy that is sleeping, is this a drunk guy that just fell after a late trip home from the bar (yes, I know that it is 2 in the afternoon). Or maybe just a patron that slipped in the newly wet conditions and just needs some help getting back on their feet.

Either way, it was McDonalds, so I was sure someone was going to take a trip to the Blue "E" Hilton. (Our Hospital has a big blue "E" on top as its logo hence its classification).

Here comes McDonalds. I can already see the Filet-o-Fish posters. The Big and Tasty ads. The Coca-Cola theme that based inside.

My Stomach started to grumble. The thought of biting into a Big Mac and sipping on a thick chocolate shake teased my senses and sparked my cravings.  I needed a value meal...I needed it now.

Turning into the driveway, we observed the manager jumping up and down on the other side of the lot as if he was on the Price is Right and just won a brand new car.  I guess my value meal will have to wait.

Turning the final curve past the drive-thru speaker, a car impeeded our path, a man laid on the ground, a postal worker was doing compressions, another citizen gave respirations through a pocket mask.

Looking at Ken, I took anothe sign and told him, "Well...this can't be good."

Parking, we grabbed the bag and monitor and went to his side.

Now, because of all the people that were standing around him, there was one thing that I didn't notice when we originally pulled around.

Anyone want to venture a guess???




Was ithis age?

Was it what he had on?

Oh no, my friends....

One last guess??


It was his size.

There he lies. Unconscious. Unresponsive....all 550 pounds of him. (No...this is NOT an exaggeration.)

This was not good.....

I called for fire.

Walking to the patient, Ken asked what chore I wanted to do.  Seeing I had the monitor, I elected to do the defibrillation. I would let him do the intubation. Good, because just looking at him showed that he would be a very hard tube.

Pulling the paddles out of their slots, I placed them on the pads placed on his chest to see what I had to work with.

This is what I got.

Click to view original file

This is what I did.

Three times...without change.

Fire arrived on scene and started to do compressions for me. Ken ran to the truck to get some more equipment.  I began to help the guys get the patient ready.  Looking around, I couldn't find what I was looking for...which began to get frustrating...until I got my answer.

"Hey, where is the backboard at?" I yelled out to the firefighter.

"It's already under him" They commented back.


Pulling the patient up a little, I saw the flouresent orange of the board peaking out with the movement of the patient. 

Umm....now how do I strap him up?

Making some make-shift straps, we got him tied down. Now came the hard part.

Lifting him on the cot.

Picking him up, I could feel the AFLAC duck beginning a trip to my house tomorrow after my back begins to really ache.

It took all six of us just to get him on the cot...and that was almost not enough.  Lifting him in mid air, I heard a crack. Not a crack that you normally hear. Not one that you would want to hear.

It was the board. It began to break.

With the "Oh Shit" look pasted on all 6 of us, we double-timed it to the cot and then to the squad.

Loaded, I had a lot to do..and I had 3 minutes to do it. That was the time that it took to get to the hospital once we were secured.

Ken jumped to the head and secured the tube.

I grabbed an IV line...then hit him again with the paddles.

"Charging 360....clear....." I yelled.


No Change.

Time to Drive it like you stole it.

Ken Jumped up front and took off for the hospital.

I started to push drugs.



narcan.jpg (6482 bytes) (In case of an overdose)


 (In case it was a sugar problem)

And finally...



The Hospital got there in a hurry. The patient was on the fence. 

Hitting him another time with the paddles, we took him in and presented the case to the staff.

30 minutes later, he had expired.

According to the people at Mickey D's, he was in the middle of an order at the drive-thru when he went quiet. The people looked out and saw his car drift into a parked one. Checked on him and found no response. Apparently this person frequented there a lot. By a lot, I mean, if they gave out flyer miles, he could have went to China...like 3 times.

I don't know what the autopsy shows (they did it that day) but I am sure that I can only render a guess.

The Big Mac didn't seem to appealing anymore.

Live by the sword, Die by the sword.

Rounding Third and Heading Home,

05 February 2005

Doctor's Tales

05 February 2005

"Doctor's Tale"

Here is a few things to tie you over till I can actually get something worth writing about.

   A man comes into the ER and yells, "My wife's going to have her baby in
the cab!" I grabbed my stuff, rushed out to the cab, lifted the lady's
dress, and began to take off her underwear. Suddenly I noticed that there
were several cabs-I was in the wrong one.
--Dr. Mark MacDonald, 

    At the beginning of my shift I placed a stethoscope on an elderly and
slightly deaf female patient's anterior chest wall. "Big breaths," I
instructed. "Yes, they used to be," remorsed the patient.
--Dr. Richard Byrnes, Seattle, WA

    One day I had to be the bearer of bad news when I told a wife that her
husband had died of a massive myocardial infarct. Not more than five
minutes later, I heard her reporting to the rest of the family that he had
died of a "massive internal fart."
--Dr. Susan Steinberg, 

    During a patient's two week follow-up appointment with his
cardiologist, he informed me, his doctor, that he was having trouble with
one of his medications. "Which one?" I asked. "The patch. The nurse told
me to put on a new one every six hours and now I'm running out of places
to put it!" I had him quickly undress and discovered what I hoped I
wouldn't see... Yes, the man had over fifty patches on his body! Now, the
instructions include removal of the old patch before applying a new one.
--Dr. Rebecca St. Clair, 

    While acquainting myself with a new elderly patient, I asked, "How
long have you been bedridden?" After a look of complete confusion she
answered ... "Why, not for about twenty years-when my husband was alive."
--Dr. Steven Swanson, 

    I was caring for a woman from Kentucky and asked, "So how's your breakfast this morning?" "It's very good, except for the Kentucky Jelly. I can't seem to get used to the taste," the patient replied. I then
asked to see the jelly and the woman produced a foil packet labeled KY Jelly."
--Dr. Leonard Kransdorf, 

    A Nurse was on duty in the Emergency Room, when a young woman with
purple hair styled into a punk rocker Mohawk, sporting a variety of
tattoos, and wearing strange clothing, entered. It was quickly determined
that the patient had acute appendicitis, so she was scheduled for
immediate surgery. When she was completely disrobed on the operating
table, the staff noticed that her pubic hair had been dyed green, and
above it there was a tattoo that read, "Keep off the grass." Once the
surgery was completed, the surgeon wrote a short note on the patient's
dressing, which said "Sorry, had to mow the lawn."

and Finally . . .

    A new, young MD doing his residency in OB was quite
embarrassed performing female pelvic exams. To cover his embarrassment he
had unconsciously formed a habit of whistling softly. The middle-aged lady
upon whom he was performing this exam suddenly burst out laughing and
further embarrassed him. He looked up from his work and sheepishly said,
I'm sorry. Was I tickling you?" She replied, "No doctor, but the song you
were whistling was 'I wish I was an Oscar Meyer Wiener'."
--Dr. wouldn't admit his name


Rounding Third and Heading Home,


04 February 2005

The Better Half

04 February 2005

"The Better Half"

Hey all. Here I am at the grind again. I don't have anything for you yet, so I am going to pimp a new journal that has come into the births of our family.

It is Bev's.

By Request, Bev has created a journal as to her life and her job.  She carries a very similar writing style as I do and looks to be a good read.

I hope that you will come by and read it and be so kind to leave a comment, even just to say hello.


Another Day at Happy Acres


Tell me what you all think.

Rounding Third and Heading Home,