Impact 1/4

im·pact

1 : the striking of one body against another

2 : the violent interaction of individuals or groups entering into combat

3 : to have an effect upon; a positive impact upon the community

Words can never adequately convey the incredible impact of our attitudes towards life. The longer I live the more convinced I become that life is ten percent what happens to us and ninety percent how we respond to it. 

Charles R. Swindoll, 1934

We’ve been staging for the assault in progress for almost a half hour and all three of us are starting to get a little tired of just sitting in one place as we wait for PD to secure the scene so that we can safely enter. Normally we would be parked behind the fire engine, as they stage with us, yet this call came in as a Code-2 so we’re running it solo. The police are stretched pretty thin right now as they’re working on the aftermath of two shooting scenes within twenty blocks of us.

My military EMT ride-along is in the back and I have a float EMT partner as Kevin and I got split up today by scheduling. After the excruciatingly slow pace of the day we finally got an interesting call an hour ago – for a GSW that occurred about 20 blocks from our current scene. We rocked that call to perfection and I’m going over the specifics with my ride-along as we sit waiting for a secure scene.

Four young men in the hooded sweatshirt/baggy pants uniform of the hood walk past the rig and down the dark street behind us. One of the black hooded sweatshirts has the white bones of a skeleton on the front – the harbinger of death. My partner is keeping an eye on them in the side mirror when one of them raises his hand pointing at us from fifty feet away.

Thwack…..Thwack..Thwack – three metallic impact noises come from the back of the rig. Don, my ride-along, yells over to us, “Oh shit! They’re shooting at us!!!”

While checking out my narcotics, computer, and miscellaneous equipment from the deployment coordinator I’m told that I have a military ride-along today and head off to the lounge to pick him up for his training day in the hood. He’s an energetic man in his late twenties named Don. I spend a few minutes getting him familiar with the rig and explaining expectations for the day as Jim, my EMT parter for today, shows up.

As usual we seem to have a heavy dose of “third man syndrome” today as it’s very slow and I’m only getting the absolute mundane calls – a fall from a ladder with minor injuries, the febrile seizure, the sixteen year old girl with a tummy ache consistent with menstrual cramping, and an old man who had a seizure in a skilled nursing facility. I do my best to involve Don in everything but there’s really not that much to do on these calls and we have over an hour of posting between each one so we get a chance to talk all day.

Don tells me he’s been in the Army for six years with a tour in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. He switched from infantry to a medical focus and is getting his EMT certification so he can feel like he’s helping his fellow servicemen on future deployments.

Jim and I tell him about calls that we’ve been on and talk about treatments and patient presentations. We pass the time by quizzing Don on how he would do assessments and treat fictitious patients.

We’re finishing up a call and hear another unit get dispatched to a GSW (gun shot wound) with possibly two patients on scene. It’s too far away for us to jump the call from the other unit but the dispatcher sends us to a post that’s near the scene. If there happen to be two patients then I’m sure we’ll be sent in for the second patient so maybe our luck is turning for the day.

I explain to Don how we call this area the killing fields as it’s a flat, 60 by 40 block area of the county where a lot of assaults and gang violence take place. I point out a street memorial – stacks of stuffed animals surrounded by candles and flowers – for the three year old child that was the unintended victim of a recent drive-by shooting. Then we pass by the street where the four officers were killed a few years ago by a banger with an assault rifle. Don’s having a difficult time believing this is happening right here in America. He’s a combat veteran who is no stranger to violence but he didn’t know it existed to this degree in the forgotten urban wasteland of my mostly urban county.

He tells us of his experiences in Iraq where his convoy was often shot at while driving from one base the the next and how IEDs (improvised explosive devices) were a constant source of annoyance and often death.

I hear the unit that responded to the GSW start transporting Code-3 to the trauma center without having called for an additional unit. It appears that there was only one patient and our “third man syndrome” is still in full effect.


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