5/31/07

Dedicated EMS workers deserve much praise
By Brian Jarvis

BRIAN JARVIS/Manning Times

For EMS workers, facing life-threatening situations is just another day on the job. From left: Anthony Geddings, Libby Nelson, Wes Hanson and Randy McKee.

Like firefighters and police officers, ambulance drivers recall images of mythical proportions: poised behind a steering wheel waiting for calls like cowboys gearing up for a 10-pace draw, zooming down city streets at ungodly speeds, sprinting to accidents and delivering CPR amid screams and chaos.

Tagging along on calls this past month, the day-to-day realities proved not as spectacular but no less inspiring. EMS workers endure grueling 24-hour shifts, rarely drive above the speed limit and never run to the scene of an accident for fear of injury. Witnessing their work up close, however, is a breathtaking experience.

For our first call, a man reports that his brother is having a seizure. A simple case, I think, no story there.

Upon arrival, however, what strikes me is the smell. Both men are heavily intoxicated and at least one has defecated on himself – and continues to do so. Neither is able to give coherent information. Used toilet paper litters the ground.

Following the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, the stench becomes unbearable. By the time we arrive at Clarendon Memorial, I can barely hold my breakfast down; I fear we may need two hospital beds instead of one.

“This is the not-so-glamorous part,” notes EMT Intermediate Randy McKee as he mops up feces before filling out a report. “Now it’s time to clean, then it’s time to write.”

“Wait until there’s a 112 degree heat index, the AC breaks and you’ve got projectile vomiting all over you,” adds EMS paramedic Wes Hanson, who has been with Clarendon Health System for a solid decade.

Our next call offers an even grimmer assessment. A man is trapped under heavy equipment, his arm hanging limply to the side. His friends and family are shocked and panicked. Urgency is in the air.

Within seconds, however, it becomes painfully obvious the man is already dead. There is nothing EMS can do except call the coroner and extricate the body.

“It’s those tragic losses that I hate,” Hanson reflects afterward. “The hardest part of the job is stepping into someone’s life while they’re experiencing the worst thing that’s ever happened to them. I’d hate someone in that position to have to explain it to my wife.”

I ask if they encounter death often. Hanson and McKee reply it may happen three times in one shift or not happen at all in three months. While Clarendon County may not have many murders or gunshot wounds, it covers more than 600 square miles, including 34 miles of I-95. Accidents are every day.

The ambulance is silent as we return to base. Glancing at the corpse in the back, I realize it’s the first dead body I have ever seen. In two calls – a mere hour of my life – I have already experienced two extremes, the tedious and the tragic.

But there is already another call to take, a pregnant woman experiencing abdominal pains, leaving no time to process or reflect. Not until 8 a.m. the next morning when the shift concludes.

“It’s a different kind of job. No two days are the same,” McKee says. “But I love what I do, and it’s for the satisfaction, not for the money. When you get that call for a traffic accident involving a small child and you make a true difference, that’s what you carry with you.”

“If you dwell on it, you go crazy,” puts in EMT Basic Annette Webster. “But I love seeing the expressions on people’s faces when I’m helping them, when a person can say that I absolutely saved their life.”

Saving lives, however, does not often occur in the spotlight or the public eye when journalists happen to be nosing around. It’s the work that is not photographed or recorded for which EMS deserves the most accolades. Next time you see a paramedic or a technician, you would do well to thank them heartily for all of their rescues and responses, but especially for the work that goes unseen.