6:1 is a pretty good ratio.

Accident with possible injuries with airbag deployment 2 miles away.

Whatever.

Slimm is away playing soldier this weekend, and I have partner of the day.  It's okay, though.  Even though he is an incredible idiot, he follows direction well, like "right" and "left" and "straight."

It's not too far away, and happens to be on the road we are currently on.  We would run into the wreck even if we didn't want to.

2 cars, both with front end damage, both facing the same direction.  How does that happen?  Damage isn't too bad.  And, low and behold, there is actually airbag deployment. 

As we drive by, and park in a safe spot, I count 9 people standing around doing nothing.  9 people.  2 cars.  Seriously?

"Who is driving which car?"

"Uh.  This guy is driving the white car, and the girl in the back of the black car was driving the blue car." 

Okay.  Wait.  What?  Whatever.  I'm on my way to the black car when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

"Hey, what took you guys so long?  We have been waiting 20 minutes.  And where are the police officers?"

"Which car were you driving, sir?" 

"Oh, I wasn't involved in the accident, I just witnessed it happen."

"Okay then.  Have a nice day."

Finally I get to the girl in the back seat of the car.  Initial impression: not a damned thing wrong with her.  And mildly cute.

Before I can open my mouth, someone pipes up.  A new person who I hadn't noticed on scene.  Oh, that's because she took it upon herself to stop at an accident with bullshit damage and jump all up in my scene.  I don't like her before he gets the first syllable out of her mouth.

"Are there any children involved?  Because I'm a pediatric nurse, and I can, you know, help out if you need any help.  If there are any children."

Well, fantastic.  I'm a 9 handicap.  Why don't you go grab my 6iron so I can hit make this approach shot? 


"No, there aren't any kids involved, but thanks."  But maybe you want to hang out in case someone needs their MMR booster.

Finally, I make it to the cute girl.  I mean patient.  I can clearly see the abrasions on her face from the airbags.  Nothing more than superficial.  I think she will make it.

"Hi, are you hurting anywhere?"

"No, I told that man not to call for an ambulance.  We just need the police department."

"Okay then.  Homey is going to take your blood pressure.  Can you sign here please?"

"Who are all these people?"

I have no clue, young lady.  No clue.  As we get in the ambulance to leave the dramatic scene, I spot an additional 3 people getting out of a car across the street and walking towards the crash. 

2 cars.  2 drivers.  No complaints.  12 bystanders.  Not much more bothers me than people who decide to insert themselves into my scene when they know they don't belong. 

12 ******* bystanders.

Don't stop, don't call

"Medic Sixtynine, respond to reports of an accident with possible injuries, Goofball Highway at Old Booger Hill Road.  Passerby advises there are 4 cars involved, unsure of any injuries."

Great.  This call sounds F-U-N.  And it's raining.  And Old Booger Hill Road crosses Goofball Highway at least 4 separate times within 6 miles.  In two distinct fire districts, covered by three different engine companies.

Lets run down why this call sucks:

1. Day after a holiday, at 8:30am.
2. In the rain
3. An unknown location
4. Some cellphone warrior was worried enough to call, but not enough to stop, and actually roll down the damned window and shout "Hey, y'all'rite?"
5. I haven't had my breakfast yet
6. I haven't had my nap yet
7 I haven't even put on my socks yet

We literally drive in circles looking for this wreck.  This cellphone warrior was kind enough to call 911, but couldn't give a description of the cars.  Fan-freaking-tastic.

We find a wreck.  A red SUV and a white Ram Truck. 

Not the wreck.  Fire says it "uppathattaway" about half a mile. 

Dark SUV, grey BMW, white sedan. 

Wrong wreck.  Turn around again, check another intersection of Goofball Highway and Old Booger Hill.

Find a wreck.  PD is on scene.  Eating a biscuit in his car.  (I am NOT kidding.)

"Hey, where y'all been?  We been waitin' on y'all for a while now."

"Shut up, Munch*.  Who's hurt?"

"Oh, ain't nobody hurt.  I done cancelled y'all 'bout five minutes ago."

I hate cellphone warriors.  And missing breakfast.

I put my socks on, and go in service.

Take the bag!

My service has a policy which requires the crew to take in the stretcher, cardiac monitor, and jump bag to every patient.  I have been in the habit of taking said equipment in, even without a written policy. 

While taking a cardiac monitor in to a 10 year old with a twisted ankle may be a little over kill, that's what the bosses want, so we do it.  Or at least I do.

It's also a good practice.  Seriously, what are you going to do for a patient who accidentally stabbed himself in the femoral artery with a turkey baster right before Thanksgiving dinner, and now there is blood squirting every which way, in the squash casserole, and all over the turkey, and the mashed potatoes, and your jump bag is 30 yards away in the ambulance?  And when that call happens (and we all know it will happen, to someone), you just know there is going to be a doctor/nurse/paramedic/personal-injury lawyer watching your big, fat, screw-up.

"Ma'am, can I borrow a towel from you since I'm too lazy to bring in my equipment?"

Take in the damned bag.  Take in the damned monitor.  Put it on the effing stretcher so your lazy ass doesn't hurt your lazy back carrying it.

I hate lazy people.