My apologies for the melancholy posts as of late, but if you people would just submit something a little more lighthearted every once in awhile…. :-) I guess it can’t always be fun and games. I found this to be kind of sweet, actually.

Jason H, EMT, writes:

As an EMT, there are strict laws that I am bound to abide by, or I risk my license. As a human being, there is a such thing as common sense and compassion. Sometimes, there is a gray area that I’m very afraid to tread in. Often, I err to the side of the law to protect myself. Sometimes, we can use “Jedi Mind Tricks” to suggest things without suggesting them.

We were called to a woman having a heart attack. In emergency mode, I dropped what I was doing (eating dinner) and we rushed to the scene. On the way, I readied the tools of my trade that we use to save lives. I got the IV ready, I got the heart monitor out and prepared so that we could look into her body and see what was happening, I got oxygen masks ready, and made
sure the regulator was attached to the oxygen bottle correctly. I got together my jump bag, which has every tool we could need until we get the patient to the ambulance. In that bag, there are tools that prepare for the best, but expect the worst. I put defibrillator pads in the pocket on the monitor, in case we had to shock her body back to life. I got the drug box out and ready.

When we got to the scene, we rushed in, running around piles of junk, clothes, a house in the woods, obviously owned by people who were living life from paycheck to paycheck. In the back of the house, there was a bedroom with a hospital bed in it, and a young woman, slightly younger than me, gasping for breath. We found that she had cervical cancer, and it was terminal. The pain in her chest was the pain of knowing that she didn’t
have very long to live. Her heart was fine, or as fine as it could be in her condition. I put her on oxygen to ease her breathing, and checked her vital signs while my partner went to talk to her husband. We needed to know some very vital information, mainly checking to find out if she had a DNR order (Do Not Revive). The only way that a person’s wish for “No Heroic Measures” can be legal in our eyes is if the order is by their bedside and they’re wearing a special DNR bracelet. We went back and
talked with her, wanting to find out if she was aware of her condition.

She was, and stated that she was ready for the pain to end. We talked with her some more, holding her hand as she cried with the pain that the horrible disease caused. She didn’t want us to save her. We gently told her that without the order in hand, if we took her to the hospital, we would be required by law to attempt to save her life. Not very many people realize what kind of trauma CPR is to a body. She didn’t want that, she wanted to
be comfortable. We sat there, holding her hand, and prayed with her, offering the only prayer possible, hoping that the end would be as easy and painless as it could be. She had enough pain medication by her bed to end it all at any time. We gave her one pill, waiting until the rest of her family could get there and talk to her. We left, as there was no more that we could do for her. I hugged her husband, as he broke down sobbing while
he signed our paperwork. He thanked us for helping her. I told him that we didn’t do anything other than talk to her. I think that’s all she needed.

As I rode back to our station in the back of the ambulance, I looked around at everything we take with us with the sole purpose of saving lives. I realized that even with the most skilled paramedic and the best tools money could buy, when God calls one of his children home, there’s nothing we can do about it. It’s a very humbling experience.