Worst Call you've ever gotten ?

[rhan101277]

WOW, that is just horrifying.

Yeah it is, on the bright side 20 weekers don't make it. Guess they live a few minutes.

P.S. I was a 24 weeker back in 1977.

 

[medichopeful]

I hope the parents fell down some stairs and bumped into some doorways and no police or jailers have any idea what happened.

Though horrible, I actually do NOT wish that this happened to the parents. It is NOT the job of the police to dish out punishment. It does NO good for anybody, and it just adds to the negative image they get. Let the courts handle the punishment.

Now, what happens in jail is a completely different story.

 

[Akulahawk]

Yeah it is, on the bright side 20 weekers don't make it. Guess they live a few minutes.

P.S. I was a 24 weeker back in 1977.

Yes, the 20 week fetuses normally don't. A friend of mine works in a Level III NICU... the youngest she's ever seen survive is about 21-22 weeks and just over 500 grams. The smallest ones that I've seen was about 24 weeks and about 620g, IIRC. Where she works, they call them "Million Dollar Babies".

 

[tactics]

Three month old in full arrest, infant CPR is one of the hardest things I have had to do. This call plagued me and my partner for months and everytime we get a peds call that has breathing difficulty in the dispatch info we are reminded of that horrible night 5 years ago. Most of the calls that I have run have been blanked out of my memory. Does this happen to anyone else and is it a bad thing? My performance as a medical provider and mental status has never been affected but I was just curious.

 

[firetender]

What Is Your Personal Philosophy?

Whether it be a child, peer, or relative, the hardest cases to handle are the ones that get close to home. Each of us has a particular scenario that will rock us off our very foundations and get us staggering for weeks, months, even the rest of our lives. We have choices in how we deal, of course, and I would hope that facing what we experienced is included in them.

And that's the hardest part.

But you know what happens? Taking the time to look at the particulars of how you were affected (and reacted to it) opens more doors than it shuts. Avoiding facing your experience narrows it into an unknowable nagging itch that really doesn't go away. But facing it (incrementally, one aspect at a time in proportion to how deep it got in and shook you) actually helps you to BROADEN your perspective and better understand what the role you played was in the LIFE of the incident.

There's evidence of medics doing this all over this web site, and I think that's one of its major services because we don't often talk to each other in person about stuff that rocks us. It's part of the Johnny and Roy culture we inherited. This truly is a safe space, and I'm always happy to see so many here willing to listen and support each other.

Here's what I came up with after facing countless of my own assaults in the field:

#1) I'm going to die.

The evidence is inescapable. Sure, maybe some lucky thing will materialize last minute (as I ALWAYS believe it will; and the fact that I'm alive today to write about it confirms its truth!), but really, after about 12 years doing the work I really get the concept.

#2) NONE of us will be around very long. In the larger scope of things, our lives are mere sparks. Stand beside a mountain.

#3) I'm here (and in the past, it was in the back of an ambulance) doing what I can in the moments that intersect with the lives of others. In a lot of those moments, I'm doing everything I can do to keep them present in this life, but ultimately, I may very well be the last face they see.

#4) Whoever "dies" on me was no less a part of this miracle than myself. The fact that any of us live at all is incredible! Therefore, bottom line, I am PARTICIPATING in the lives of others, in a sense, getting to understand my own through that participation. As a medic, I just happened to spend a lot of time with people who were leaving a bit earlier than myself.

#5) Ultimately, I'm not far behind, and in that I found some comfort. When the times came to really see that child/friend/relative/mentor's life pass before me, I had the privilege of being there, to honor and try and nourish whatever spark was left, and if it faded, to wish it well on its journey; the journey we're all taking. Ultimately, we're here to witness life, and death appears to be a part of it.

#6) If there's somewhere else to go, we'll all get there.

This is just my personal guiding philosophy. I learned it in the back of an ambulance maybe six years into the work and it has informed every aspect of my life in the 30 years since.

I offer it not as a form to follow but as encouragement for YOU to find one that works for you.

Thanks for reading!

 

[rescuepoppy]

Whether it be a child, peer, or relative, the hardest cases to handle are the ones that get close to home. Each of us has a particular scenario that will rock us off our very foundations and get us staggering for weeks, months, even the rest of our lives. We have choices in how we deal, of course, and I would hope that facing what we experienced is included in them.

And that's the hardest part.

But you know what happens? Taking the time to look at the particulars of how you were affected (and reacted to it) opens more doors than it shuts. Avoiding facing your experience narrows it into an unknowable nagging itch that really doesn't go away. But facing it (incrementally, one aspect at a time in proportion to how deep it got in and shook you) actually helps you to BROADEN your perspective and better understand what the role you played was in the LIFE of the incident.

There's evidence of medics doing this all over this web site, and I think that's one of its major services because we don't often talk to each other in person about stuff that rocks us. It's part of the Johnny and Roy culture we inherited. This truly is a safe space, and I'm always happy to see so many here willing to listen and support each other.

Here's what I came up with after facing countless of my own assaults in the field:

#1) I'm going to die.

The evidence is inescapable. Sure, maybe some lucky thing will materialize last minute (as I ALWAYS believe it will; and the fact that I'm alive today to write about it confirms its truth!), but really, after about 12 years doing the work I really get the concept.

#2) NONE of us will be around very long. In the larger scope of things, our lives are mere sparks. Stand beside a mountain.

#3) I'm here (and in the past, it was in the back of an ambulance) doing what I can in the moments that intersect with the lives of others. In a lot of those moments, I'm doing everything I can do to keep them present in this life, but ultimately, I may very well be the last face they see.

#4) Whoever "dies" on me was no less a part of this miracle than myself. The fact that any of us live at all is incredible! Therefore, bottom line, I am PARTICIPATING in the lives of others, in a sense, getting to understand my own through that participation. As a medic, I just happened to spend a lot of time with people who were leaving a bit earlier than myself.

#5) Ultimately, I'm not far behind, and in that I found some comfort. When the times came to really see that child/friend/relative/mentor's life pass before me, I had the privilege of being there, to honor and try and nourish whatever spark was left, and if it faded, to wish it well on its journey; the journey we're all taking. Ultimately, we're here to witness life, and death appears to be a part of it.

#6) If there's somewhere else to go, we'll all get there.

This is just my personal guiding philosophy. I learned it in the back of an ambulance maybe six years into the work and it has informed every aspect of my life in the 30 years since.

I offer it not as a form to follow but as encouragement for YOU to find one that works for you.

Thanks for reading!

Having been involved in one aspect or another of emergency services since 1978 I have had quiet a few calls which have stuck with me for one reason or another. As with most people any call involving children stay with me longer than others mostly because common thinking tells us that we as older people are supposed to go before kids do, but we all know that death has no age limits. Other calls have their own way of sticking in my mind. In my case one that still comes to me even though this happened in 1982 is a driver who died in a truck wreck. I was volunteering on the rescue truck and not doing patient care on this call. When we arrived on scene the driver was trapped against a rock face with his load pushed into his seat,during the extrication where I was in the cab of the truck with him for the whole 2 and 1/2 hours we worked to get him out. During this time he had good vital signs and was totally alert and talking to us in a normal cone of voice. He told me that he knew what would happen when we released him,and went through the the process of asking us to deliver a message to his wife for him.
As predicted when we got him free he started to crash as soon as we pulled him out. By th time we got him to the mast-trousers he was gone, I later contacted his wife asking her if she wanted to talk. It took her almost 6 months to want to hear what he said. I will never regret contacting her and giving her the option to decide if she wanted to know what was said during his last moments.
If you you stay in this field long enough you will run calls that will rock you some that may even make you question if you want to stay in this. All you can do is to find your own way to put things into perspective. My hope is that everyone who has those calls that affect them can find a positive way to deal with their feelings and make any career decisions they have to make for the right reasons not as a way of fitting in or to prove a point.

 

[nomofica]

Whether it be a child, peer, or relative, the hardest cases to handle are the ones that get close to home. Each of us has a particular scenario that will rock us off our very foundations and get us staggering for weeks, months, even the rest of our lives. We have choices in how we deal, of course, and I would hope that facing what we experienced is included in them.

And that's the hardest part.

But you know what happens? Taking the time to look at the particulars of how you were affected (and reacted to it) opens more doors than it shuts. Avoiding facing your experience narrows it into an unknowable nagging itch that really doesn't go away. But facing it (incrementally, one aspect at a time in proportion to how deep it got in and shook you) actually helps you to BROADEN your perspective and better understand what the role you played was in the LIFE of the incident.

There's evidence of medics doing this all over this web site, and I think that's one of its major services because we don't often talk to each other in person about stuff that rocks us. It's part of the Johnny and Roy culture we inherited. This truly is a safe space, and I'm always happy to see so many here willing to listen and support each other.

Here's what I came up with after facing countless of my own assaults in the field:

#1) I'm going to die.

The evidence is inescapable. Sure, maybe some lucky thing will materialize last minute (as I ALWAYS believe it will; and the fact that I'm alive today to write about it confirms its truth!), but really, after about 12 years doing the work I really get the concept.

#2) NONE of us will be around very long. In the larger scope of things, our lives are mere sparks. Stand beside a mountain.

#3) I'm here (and in the past, it was in the back of an ambulance) doing what I can in the moments that intersect with the lives of others. In a lot of those moments, I'm doing everything I can do to keep them present in this life, but ultimately, I may very well be the last face they see.

#4) Whoever "dies" on me was no less a part of this miracle than myself. The fact that any of us live at all is incredible! Therefore, bottom line, I am PARTICIPATING in the lives of others, in a sense, getting to understand my own through that participation. As a medic, I just happened to spend a lot of time with people who were leaving a bit earlier than myself.

#5) Ultimately, I'm not far behind, and in that I found some comfort. When the times came to really see that child/friend/relative/mentor's life pass before me, I had the privilege of being there, to honor and try and nourish whatever spark was left, and if it faded, to wish it well on its journey; the journey we're all taking. Ultimately, we're here to witness life, and death appears to be a part of it.

#6) If there's somewhere else to go, we'll all get there.

This is just my personal guiding philosophy. I learned it in the back of an ambulance maybe six years into the work and it has informed every aspect of my life in the 30 years since.

I offer it not as a form to follow but as encouragement for YOU to find one that works for you.

Thanks for reading!

All I have to say is that was beautifully written. Well said. I'm honestly tempted to pass this on to many of the medics, EMTs and even ff's I know.

 

[firetender]

All I have to say is that was beautifully written. Well said. I'm honestly tempted to pass this on to many of the medics, EMTs and even ff's I know.

Feel free to do so. You can keep it signed "firetender" (please, ALL lower case!) and something like an attribution to this site would be nice to build traffic here as well.

Russ

 

[nomofica]

I'll be sure to do that.

 

[I-cant-fix-stupid]

Worst call

We worked code on a 6 month ols baby who dies of SIDS for 2 hours. She'd been dead for hours but we just couldnt bring ourselves to give up with mom right there screaming at us to do something.

Went home and woke my little girl up to hold her for a while and just cried.

 

[firetender]

She'd been dead for hours but we just couldnt bring ourselves to give up with mom right there screaming at us to do something.

That's the difference between being a healer and being a Flesh Mechanic. Sometimes we are asked to participate in life, even while we preside over death. This experience was meant to strengthen, not diminish, your powers.