Alone in Back

Called to the group home for respiratory distress. Updated en route that the patient is choking and cyanotic. We arrive to find the thirty-year old with cerebral palsy agitated, but breathing quite fine. He is tube fed, and occasionally vomits and aspirates. His lungs sound clear. The aide has a machine BP cuff on his arm and is concerned because the reading is 280/230. I tell her it’s not an accurate reading. We retake it manually and its 130/70. There is no question but he is going to the hospital. That's just the way it is at a group home. They call us, we come, and the supervisor says transport. No matter what or how temporary the emergency. I don't mean to belittle what happened. I've taken this patient in many times before, often for this same thing. He is an aspiration risk so he goes. An aide comes with us. On the way I read his medical folder. There is a chart for his BMs. I easily decipher the code. LBM, MBM, and SBM, stand for large, medium and small BM respectively.

At the hospital, I get out of the back and my partner comes round and helps me pull the stretcher. At that same moment, the patient's parents arrive. The mother screams at the aide, who rode in the front "What you left him alone in the back by himself?"

"No," I say, "I was in the back with him."

I don't know what they told her, but she is frantic. She kisses her baby, and asks what happened.

I tell her he has been fine with us, very stable. It takes her awhile, but she finally starts to see that everything is okay. In triage, she asks the aide if he had a BM. She doesn't know. I consult the BM chart. "No," I say, "Not this morning."

Later, the mother thanks us.

***

It is a day for mothers. Our next call, on the radio a cop tells dispatch that he is with a motorist who says her son is having an asthma attack at home. We are sent to the home on a priority. The cops slow us down en route. The cop has driven the mother there and the boy is fine after having a treatment. Lungs clear. The mother thanks us for our response.

Awhile later we are sent for another child asthma, only to fine the boy is breathing fine. His lungs are clear. He says, it is not his breathing, but his chest hurts. He says he was rolling around and felt pain like someone stabbed him with a pin. His mother starts crying, "Is my boy having a heart attack?" "No," we say, "He isn't." We take him to the kid's hospital. I let the mom ride in back with him.

***

It was a busy morning. Five back to back calls. Also did a nursing home fall, possible pelvic fracture and a woman with a bad disc, who I had to give morphine too.

And then nothing for the rest of the shift.