"Sam, this is your call," says my favorite paramedic with a wink. "C-Spine," I say more to myself than anyone else as I wrap my hands around our patient's neck. It's my first call ever as a precepting EMT, and it has to be an unrestrained passenger in a two-car motor vehicle collision. Our driver slides a collar under my fingers and secures it in place. As we carefully backboard our patient, I ask him about his pain, run the gamut of SAMPLE questions, and once we have him in our medic, I start my detailed physical exam. Shining a pen light in every orifice, and palpating him up and down, he sighs and says, "I'm such a fucking idiot, driving without a seatbelt."
"Yeah that's true," I think to myself, but instead I ask him if it hurts when I do "this."
We drive to the hospital without incident while I do all the other things I can possibly remember. We get him into the hospital and he starts shaking, and the next thing I hear is "Oh Christ," as my partner grabs an emesis basin from the table, moving back as he thrusts it in our patient's face. I grab the board to help my partner turn our patient as he vomits. Faster than I can say "that's disgusting," the doctor's rounding the corner. She starts listing off the tests she wants done and shoves me aside. "Give the report," urges the paramedic, and I swallow hard.
"Twenty-five year old male...motor vehicle accident...unrestrained," I literally wipe sweat off of my forehead. What if I forget something? "No prior medical history, vitals WNL," I falter, and the paramedic puts his hand on my shoulder. "He didn't complain of nausea until a few seconds ago," my partner continues. I hear our patient mumbling about how stupid he is, when the paramedic says, "good job Sam, let's do the paperwork."
The Pre-hospital Patient Care Report (PPCR) scares the hell out of me. It's got boxes to be checked, blanks to be filled, and a narrative to be written. He guides me through it one step at a time and then points to the "attendant-in-charge" line for me to sign.
"Oh, no, I'm just an attendant; that's your blank," I mutter. He smiles. "Nope. Sign here." I sign, and he pats me on the back. "I know it was scary," he says, "but you did a great job. Congrats on the first call."
On the way back to the station, I lie down on the bench in our medic and close my eyes.
I'm so glad that it's over; it was possibly the most nerve-racking thing I've ever done.