Dirt and Slush

Busy day. From the moment we signed on, we were always on a call. They sent us for a drunk, who'd fallen a few days ago, and now his arm was all swollen and bruised. As soon as we cleared the hospital, we were sent for a man with dehydration, then for an unconcious in an apartment building, who turned out to be a man who fell, got up, walked to his apartment, then slammed the door in our face after telling us to leave him alone, then an abdonomal pain at a doctor's office, then a drunk outside a homeless shelter, then a diaylsis transfer, then a respiratory distress that resulted in a refusal. The man said he'd just had a coughing fit. Seven calls in eight hours.

***

Today was the kind of day when the ambulances were all dirty, and we tracked slush everywhere we went from walking in snowbanks all day. Walking down the hall of the hospital, I always feel like the custodians hate me. They have just mopped the floor, and then I walk by, tacking in all the dirt and slush. I feel so bad. All day long. Here I come again. Sorry, man.