It's the little things that count...and the ones I remember most.

I wish I could say that all of my memorable moments as an EMT were funny, but as per the nature of the beast, I can not. More often than not, they were very somber. And although some still make me cry, I would not have them forgotten. Many of our 'routine' calls were what we referred to as 'Transfer' calls. We transferred patients to and from radiation therapy and we transferred patients under hospice care home. In San Francisco, patients at San Francisco General Hospital (SFGH) who were in need of radiation therapy were sent across town to University of Califonia San Francisco Hospital (UCSF). It was during these short trips that I was able to chat with the patients. (As a field training officer, I found myself reminding many a rookie that the best thing they could do for their patient was to just listen to them. Radiation therapy can be a taxing ordeal for the patients family and health care workers as well.) RADIATION THERAPY Radiation and Therapy seems an Oxymoron. The toll it took on the patients was scathingly visible as we picked them up for the return trip. Patients that looked 'well' on the way in, appeared as if they had just finished a triathalon after the 'therapy' session was over for the day. I will always remember the WWII vet who lost half his face to cancer, but came through the war physically unscathed. He was still a very handsome gentleman (although he teased me and said I was just being nice.) He told me stories of the war, stories of the girl who waited back home for him, and stories of all the 'hot-rods' he had back in the day when one could be had for Fifty Bucks. I looked forward to transporting him, and was was both sad and ecstatic when his treatments came to an end and he went home. Breast Cancer- too many young women. That is all I can really say about this. Too many women in general. Too many men for that matter. I bet most of you never really associated this disease with men. I saw many. I don't know what it is about about this cancer that really scares me. After all, if I were to lose my breasts, it wouldn't make a difference, I would still be ME. I would still be alive right? It is just a vanity, and breasts alone do not make me a woman right? RIGHT? It is hard to comfort someone who is going through this type of trauma without feeling guilty that yours are unscathed. It is hard to do when you yourself can not fathom the mere thought of being in their place. These were the transports that I could not distance myself appropriately enough from during the call. But they were always hopeful. No matter how young (16!!!) nor how old (80+). No age is a good age to deal with this, but 16! She had barely 'come of age', barely old enough to date, still in the middle of 'High School Drama', peer pressure, and college prep. And she was forced to grow up in an instant. And the 80+ year old woman who kept a cheerful outlook, and told me that she had lived a good life no matter what happened from 'here on out', and she was going to enjoy her 'falsies'. She whispered conspiratorily to me that she had went ahead and gotten DD's much to her daughters horror. 'By Golly! She was going to have a nice rack for once in her life!' (Yes, SHE DID say that to me as her daughter blushed furiously and her husband grinned.) HOSPICE These were particularly hard calls. Physically they were easy enough. Paperwork and the EMT aspect was easy enough. What was taxing was the emotional aspect of it. Going home under Hospice was a nice way of saying that they were going home to live out their final days in relative peace. It's not often that someone will actually take the time to let your bosses know that they thought you did a good job. One of my most treasured compliments comes from a family who commended my partner and I for the simple fact that we stayed at their home for over an hour with our oxygen tanks and 'good humor' while we waited for the patients own o2 tanks to be delivered. The delivery company was late, and we did not think twice about staying with her. While it was not a life threatening situation, it was a matter of patient comfort! We talked about the dogs she fostered (She ran a rescue), we talked about her garden, and we talked about food. We talked about family and we told them (The family) about how much we liked our jobs. It was not the fact that they referred to us as 'Paramedics' when we were only 'EMTs' that made us proud, it was the fact that they commended us for something that we never gave a second thought to. It was our pleasure to stay with her and wait. Bring him home This call by far is one of my most memorable. He was a patient going home after a long battle with pneumonia. An affliction that you don't associate with Hospice Care. Unfortunately AIDS had ravished his immune system, and he was ready to go home. Although he had moments in which I knew he was not lucid, we talked of many things. 'Of ships and seals, and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings.' After a a few minutes of silence he turned to me. "Would you sing to me? I love the song on the radio, and I noticed you humming along." I had been holding his hand, since all paperwork was done, and our ride-along was monitoring his vitals and seeing to his physical comfort as best as she could. My breath caught in my throat and tears threatened to spill as I realized that Sarah McLachlan was singing 'I Will Remember You '. Adrian turned up the radio and began to sing along with me as he drove. We tucked him into bed and said our goodbyes. He kissed each of our hands and thanked us for making his last ride memorable and comfortable. His partner added hugs of his own, and thanked us for being so gentle and loving with his beloved. His perception of aloof public safety workers was shattered. Adrian cleared the call and requested a few minutes of downtime to recover. I hugged him as I noticed a tear being brushed hastily away in hopes I would not notice.'Strong men cry too!' I told him. 'Well,' he replied with a smile, 'you must be a reallly strong man judging by the river on your face!' Our ride-along began to cry, and told me that this call set her career path in concrete. If there was any doubt about becoming an EMT, there was none now. I told her to keep this call close to her heart, and to remember that her patients were more than calls, they were people. The three of us sat there a few minutes in relative silence. I WILL remember you. And I know of at least 2 others that remember as well. See FAQ's" about The Corporal for more EMS shenanigans.