Don't Tell My Sister

Slow day, which is just what I needed. After three twelves in the city, a slow start to Thursday is always appreciated. I slept, got caught up with my blogs, checked on the status of medic supplies, and generally took it easy.

Only call so far has been a man with a syncopal episode after taking a nitro.

I'm hoping for another slow day tomorrow so I can get caught up with my regional EMS work in preparatation for the meeting next Tuesday.

Tonight I am hoping for a quiet night at home. I may stop at the new supermarket and get a steak to grille. The last couple nights I have had one cold beer before bed with my late meal, and in addition to it tasting good, I have slept well. That could be because the meal was cold turkey and lime nacho chips. I think another cold beer tonight would be nice. Maybe even a hot tub. I like the weather this time of year the best -- cool and crisp.

45 minutes to go.

***

Oops. Cursed myself. With 44 minutes to go, the tones go off. Diabetic. We find the patient -- a man in his late fifties -- in his driveway. He's fallen off his tractor, his feet still in the air, lying on his back with his head against a stone wall. I c-spine him, then move him into the garage, where I check his sugar. Its low(less than 20). I give him an amp of D50 and he comes around. He is a regular for me. I have been treating him for over ten years. His sister is there as she often is. She is the one who found him. I saw him in fact yesterday at the hospital. Another crew had brought him in, which was unusual because he is normally a refusal. They found him in a car in another town -- in a bad part of town -- unresponsive. As the man beomes alert today, I ask him what he was doing today. "Don't tell my sister," he says.

"He won't tell her," his sister says.

The man swears.

We take him in to the hospital because he says he hurts all over and because he is somewhat hypothermic from being outside -- probably for at least six hours. I have to give him another amp on the way in.

***

On my way home I stop at the supermarket to get a steak. Because of the call, it is much later than I wanted, but I still have the taste for steak. I come out of the store and my car is dead. I walk across the street to a gas station and they let me borrow a portable jumper. I get the car going, drive home, and when I check my car again, it is dead. I think the problem is corrosion on the battery so I take the cables off and scrape them, but that doesn't work. I try to jump the car, but it won't work this time. After an hour of trying to fix it, I end up calling Triple A to tow it to a gas station near where I work. I figure I can get a ride in the morning with a friend, then pick the car up in the afternoon. Triple A comes, takes the car. I go back inside, but ten minutes later I see they are still there. Their flatbed has broken down. They are out there for two hours until another flatbed comes. They end up leaving the broken one in the street.

I hate it when my car breaks down. I guess at least I wasn't stranded. That's good. But no steak for me tonight. I settle for leftovers. Maybe tomorrow night I'll get to eat it.