Well, I guess that since this is my first post as MsParamedic, I should give a proper introduction. My name is Natalie, I'm 22 and a loud, proud little Cajun! I've been an EMT since 2006 and a Paramedic since 2008. I have a great family. By that I mean parents, a half sister and bro-in-law, her half brother and his wife, and all of their kids. I have 5 nieces (another one the way) and 3 nephews. I also have 2 dogs, Alice and Jasper, and a hamster, Esme. Yes, I love Twilight. Don't judge me. In fact, I love MOST books. Fiction, Non-fiction, informational pamphlets, graffiti on bathroom walls, the list goes on.
Now to the meat and potatoes. I'm a Paramedic that works for a small company. That company is like an extended family. We fight and bicker some days, the next we're side by side elbow deep in blood, and then we're back at the station pranking each other and telling stories about "The Good Ole Days." At our service a unit consists of an EMT and a Paramedic. As a unit, we run both ALS calls and BLS calls. Any call that is considered an emergency, whether it is a headache x 3 years, a stubbed toe, or cardiac arrest, the Paramedic runs. The BLS transfers are ridden by the EMT...sometimes. I'm very short so my EMT's usually say, "but Natalie, you were built to fit back there. My legs hurt." Some days, I say no but on most days I smile and jump in the back.
At my company, I'm the baby whisperer. If my crew goes on a "9 months pregnant, having toe pain" call, she's most likely going to deliver while I'm there. Anytime there is a pediatric call and my unit is available, they send us on it. At my service, there is an abundance of rough, scary looking men. Not always kid friendly, as you can imagine. But the 5'2" chick with the goofy smile? Oh yes, she's kid friendly, mom approved. I may not have kids of my own, but being an aunt and godmother has given me Mommy instincts for sure.
Calls that my dispatchers are hesitant to send me on? Prison calls and domestic abuse situations. Because already in my short career, I've been stabbed my a prisoner with my own 14g needle and have been locked in a room with an abusive husband that we thought was no longer on scene, punched in the face by a psychiatric regular, urinated on by neighboring inmates while working an OD in a prison cell, and tackled by a man on PCP. I have terrible luck, but that will never discourage me from doing my job, and doing it correctly and efficiently.
Proof of said luck? As I type this, I am sitting on an ice pack. Why? Because yesterday while I was on standby at a rodeo, a bull rammed me in the derrière with his horns. Many of you are probably saying: "well, she has no sense of scene safety. It's not bad luck." Wrong. In all of my situations, they were fluke happenings. All of those scenes were covered by the police department or (in case of the rodeo) professional bull fighters.
Well, here is how the rodeo incident went down. My partner and I were behind the shoots in a gated area. If I bull rider were to need assistance, we could exit out of this gate and into the arena once the bull was behind the labyrinth gate. Well, it was a quiet event. The last bull and rider were paired and the kid put up a great effort. But when he tried to dismount, his hand was caught in the bull rope and he fell directly under the bucking beast. Luckily, he had on a helmet and a vest. I watched the bull enter the labyrinth gate and the gate closed behind it. I ran out to see if the kid was alright. He had stood up after the assault, walked to the fence, and was sitting on the ground looking dazed. I was halfway to the kid when the bull backed out of the gate. Because the staff was so worried about the kid, they hadn't properly secured the gate. So there I was, facing this bull. Mind you, looking back it's funny. Our company has red shirts and hoodies. It was like we were asking the bull to maim us. I grew up on a farm, rodeo'ing with most of these boys' brothers and sisters, riding bulls like the rest of them. My partner had never seen a bull ride on TV before today. I looked back and yelled, "Run!" I had previously instructed here that if anything were to happen in the arena to always run UP, not across. "Jump on the fence and climb. They don't have thumbs so they can't follow you up there. But they have 4 legs so they can out run you across," were my exact words of advice. Well, she ran... across. So the beast runs at me and I ran at him. Bull fighting 101, once he's close enough to you, make a sharp turn close to his body and get him running circles. So, the crowd is watching your favorite little 5 foot medic run at this 2000 pound bull and as he gets close to me, I turn and go to run up the shoot. It happened fast, my foot slipped and his horn hooked my lower back, but it gave me the boost onto the shoot I needed. Just as I was about to jump in the shoot, I realized that this shoot was occupied by another bull so I prayed that the loose bull didn't realize how big of a pickle that I was in. When I turned around, the horseback cowboys had roped our bull. My partner was holding her face. Initial reports by her were that the bull kicked at her, she shielded her face and looked away, and it hit her in the jaw. Looking back at footage, it was the gate that gave her the kick in the face. She lost a tooth. The bull rider was just fine, by the way. The horseback cowboys had saved us from further damage and I thanked them all the way back into our unit.
Well, I think that now you should have a pretty good idea of who I am and what I do. I look forward to blogging with you all in the time to come. But for now, I need to get off my rump because I literally can't sit for another moment!
Au Revoir mes ami! À bientȏt,