Wednesday, January 4, 2017

A little about my blog

Hello all and thank you for allowing me into the group.
I was a NYC EMT/Paramedic from 1986 until I became a Physician Assistant in 2001. I mostly worked the Harlem, NYC area. Sometimes I get the itch to tell of a memory or experience from that time which I usually call the best time of my life until about 5 years ago when I met my partner Priscilla.
Some of the post may be funny, some may be gross, some may be sad but they are all 100% real. My kids range in age from 14 to 3 years old. I'd like them remembering me as not only some dottering, senile fool but as someone who felt he did something a bit important. So please your welcomed to come laugh or cry with me as I take an erratic trip down memory lane on
http://mymedicstories.blogspot.com/.
Thank you,
Rocco

Death Over My Right Shoulder

We respond to a call for an "unknown condition" at 132st and Madison Ave.Unkown condition, Cold as Hell out. Lowest priority call, cops aren't dispatched. Arrive to find a man laying in a pool of blood on the street corner. Can't find out exactly what happened. It's night and so much blood. The guy, about 30 years old is barely breathing. I get out a bag valve mask and start assisting respirations as my partner goes to the back of the ambulance to get a spine board. I'm trying to breath for the guy at the same time trying to stem the flow of blood at the base of his head. Over my right shoulder:
"Yo is he gonna be ok?'
I've got enough on my hands than to deal with bystanders.
"Yo, is he gonna be ok?"
"Yo is he gonna be ok?
At least 5 damn times. I can't take it anymore
"He's going to be ok, Chill!" I yell without turning around
An instant later a chill goes up my spine as I hear in a low, matter of fact voice:
"No he's not"
Over my right shoulder goes what looks like a 9mm.

POW!
POW!
POW!

The bullets tear into my patient's chest and stomach. So quick it was I didn't have time to duck and the guys is hotfooting it down Madison Ave.
With church bells going off in my right ear I call a 10-13 (unit needs help) while running across the street and ducking (yea, now!) behind a parked car.
My patient probably had a 1% chance of survival when we arrived. Now he had none.