And you thought I forgot...
This is starting to feel like the Rocky series of movies. First there was the original where the characters (and I do mean characters) were introduced. Then came the sequel where the plucky hero (heroine) gets his (her) just reward. After the success of the sequel, well, you know what comes next, right? ANOTHER SEQUEL! Because, why not?
And who am I to mess with a successful(?) formula?
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASHLEY!!!
I have probably seen less of Ashley in the last 13 (Jesus, 13 years already) years than I have of the other girls. And that's a shame since we probably have more in common. She's an ER nurse at a busy NW suburban Level II type Trauma Center, so we can always discuss disgusting anatomical "events" without batting an eye. We also share a fondness for a certain Northside, National League baseball team (I'm not naming names here but *cough Dalmy! cough*) and the local National Football League (*cough Sarah! cough*) team so there's that too. Although I must say, the non-believers in the group are not without their charms, sporting team decisions notwithstanding.
Life, being what it is, means we don't always have the chance to hang with those we'd like to. Ashley has two adorable little guys and a lovely husband as the main focus of her life and that's as it should be.
This is probably the really nice thing about social media. Because, quite honestly, I had forgotten today was Ashley's day until I saw it posted this morning. I should have remembered it too, since it's just one day before what would have been Caitlin's 31st. I think, as much as anything, letting go of Walk 5k for Caitlin sort of pushed us all off into our own worlds full time. We always knew we'd see each other for one weekend a year, but since that's been gone, well, our excuse for getting together went with it. And, with one of my favorite Packer fans living out-of-state now, it's that much harder to get together.
I guess what I'm trying to say here, what with my feelings for the girls, on top of the anniversary tomorrow, on top of the most recent news out of Florida, is this.
Love the people you love.
And tell them you love them.
Often.
For no reason whatsoever.
At any random time you wish.
Brief side track... After we stopped W5kfC, the Oldest One made a concerted effort to push Random Acts of Kindness on Caitlin's birthday as a way to commemorate our favorite Blond child. Tomorrow is the day. Do something nice for someone; for no reason other than it's a nice thing to do.
And if anyone asks you why you're doing it, tell them it's for Caitlin.
Ashley, I hope you had the best day possible today. I love you forever.
Peace
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Thursday, June 2, 2016
And unto us, a child is born. In the back of Medic 2.
So, the other day, as I related the wonderfullness (wonderfuliciousness?) of (wonderfulosity?) Wes, I mentioned how we occasionally, and especially around a holiday, get visitors at the firehouse. As it turns out, on Monday, I got some very special visitors my own bad self.
Mary and her family stopped in to say "hi" and to drop off a card of thanks. Last November we had a great time stopping by their house for Mary's 7th birthday.
Now that's not something we usually do, visit someone on their birthday. But Mary is kind of a special case.
Allow me to explain...
Seven years ago we delivered Mary. In the back of the ambulance.
The 9-1-1 call came in late in the evening (I don't remember the exact time, but it was before midnight) and we were dispatched for "a woman in labor." This is not as exciting as you might think. It's not at all unusual for a minor communications breakdown (you hear the Led Zeppelin riffs now, don't you?) in between the caller, the dispatch center and the broadcast to us. Think about the childhood game of "Telephone" and you get the idea. A nervous caller sometimes either doesn't relay the information accurately or details sometimes get overlooked or relaying info to a coworker at dispatch so we can get rolling while the call taker gathers more information and you can see how this can happen. So, when we get a call of this nature it's often taken with a grain of salt. That doesn't have any effect on our response however, you still have to act like everything you hear is accurate. But more often than not, it's a false alarm.
We arrived at the address, just a few blocks from the firehouse, and were met at the door, by Jim, the husband. I don't recall him being particularly anxious ( a good sign) as he told us his wife was on the floor in the upstairs bathroom. We went in and climbed the stairs and as I walked in to the bathroom, I met Anne.
On the floor.
In active labor.
Gulp.
Her water had broken and she was in mid-contraction. I checked for crowning, a sign of imminent delivery where the top of the baby's head starts to appear, and thankfully saw none. I asked her how long the contraction had been and how far apart they were and from her answers, we knew we didn't have a lot of time to dally. One of the guys went down to the ambulance to grab a device called the body splint that we use to haul people up or down stairs, similar to a backboard but more... engulfing. As we loaded Anne onto the body splint she started another contraction. We worked on her breathing, waited till it passed, and carried her downstairs to the cot and on into the back of the ambulance. As we loaded her in, another contraction started. Now, because I was the passenger in the ambulance on this particular day, my assignments included playing "catcher".
Lucky me.
While this was going on we (I'm going to switch back-and-forth between pronouns here because, frankly, I don't remember who did what at this point) got out the OB kit and got that prepped while my partner started an IV on Anne.
Because this time, when I checked for crowning, I saw a head.
Again, gulp.
We started toward the hospital, typically about a 7 or 8 minute trip from where we were, hoping to beat the stork to the ER. But, as we crossed the railroad tracks a minute or two later, Mary decided she had had enough and was ready to make her debut into the world.
Now, as part of my (read every paramedic, everywhere) training, I spent time in the hospital's Labor & Delivery department, and took part (a small part) in a few births there. I was also in the room when my kids were born. I even delivered a baby in the field in my first year on the job here. But those were a loooong time ago. We do have semi-regular training on pregnancy and delivery in the field, including potential complications. And, one of the things we are taught is to prepare for an "explosive birth".
I had no idea that was literal.
Until I literally caught Mary.
It seems that, since she decided she was ready, she didn't want to waste any time in the whole delivery portion of our program. I caught her cleanly though (yay me!) and started to dry her off and wrap her to hold in her body heat and passed her up for Anne to hold. The remaining few minutes of the transport to the Emergency Department, where we were met by a crew from Labor & Delivery and escorted right up to the birthing suite was, thankfully, unremarkable. I always joke that at least Mary knew what she was doing. One of the things that did get my attention though was that her cry was SOOO soft. It kind of startled me at the time. I found out later though, from talking to the L&D nurses, that it was more normal than I'd thought.
That started our (my) relationship with Jim, Anne, Mary, Elizabeth, Jimmy and the rest of the family. It's been pretty cool I must say, and I consider myself very fortunate to be able to remain in contact with the family. Too many times in this job despite doing everything well; the proper training, the right medications, the right procedures, in the right sequence, at the right time, we have a poor outcome. To be able to randomly run into the family somewhere in town or at a special event where they've chosen to include me just reinforces how cool that day was.
Seven years ago we delivered Mary. In the back of the ambulance.
The 9-1-1 call came in late in the evening (I don't remember the exact time, but it was before midnight) and we were dispatched for "a woman in labor." This is not as exciting as you might think. It's not at all unusual for a minor communications breakdown (you hear the Led Zeppelin riffs now, don't you?) in between the caller, the dispatch center and the broadcast to us. Think about the childhood game of "Telephone" and you get the idea. A nervous caller sometimes either doesn't relay the information accurately or details sometimes get overlooked or relaying info to a coworker at dispatch so we can get rolling while the call taker gathers more information and you can see how this can happen. So, when we get a call of this nature it's often taken with a grain of salt. That doesn't have any effect on our response however, you still have to act like everything you hear is accurate. But more often than not, it's a false alarm.
We arrived at the address, just a few blocks from the firehouse, and were met at the door, by Jim, the husband. I don't recall him being particularly anxious ( a good sign) as he told us his wife was on the floor in the upstairs bathroom. We went in and climbed the stairs and as I walked in to the bathroom, I met Anne.
On the floor.
In active labor.
Gulp.
Her water had broken and she was in mid-contraction. I checked for crowning, a sign of imminent delivery where the top of the baby's head starts to appear, and thankfully saw none. I asked her how long the contraction had been and how far apart they were and from her answers, we knew we didn't have a lot of time to dally. One of the guys went down to the ambulance to grab a device called the body splint that we use to haul people up or down stairs, similar to a backboard but more... engulfing. As we loaded Anne onto the body splint she started another contraction. We worked on her breathing, waited till it passed, and carried her downstairs to the cot and on into the back of the ambulance. As we loaded her in, another contraction started. Now, because I was the passenger in the ambulance on this particular day, my assignments included playing "catcher".
Lucky me.
While this was going on we (I'm going to switch back-and-forth between pronouns here because, frankly, I don't remember who did what at this point) got out the OB kit and got that prepped while my partner started an IV on Anne.
Because this time, when I checked for crowning, I saw a head.
Again, gulp.
We started toward the hospital, typically about a 7 or 8 minute trip from where we were, hoping to beat the stork to the ER. But, as we crossed the railroad tracks a minute or two later, Mary decided she had had enough and was ready to make her debut into the world.
Now, as part of my (read every paramedic, everywhere) training, I spent time in the hospital's Labor & Delivery department, and took part (a small part) in a few births there. I was also in the room when my kids were born. I even delivered a baby in the field in my first year on the job here. But those were a loooong time ago. We do have semi-regular training on pregnancy and delivery in the field, including potential complications. And, one of the things we are taught is to prepare for an "explosive birth".
I had no idea that was literal.
Until I literally caught Mary.
It seems that, since she decided she was ready, she didn't want to waste any time in the whole delivery portion of our program. I caught her cleanly though (yay me!) and started to dry her off and wrap her to hold in her body heat and passed her up for Anne to hold. The remaining few minutes of the transport to the Emergency Department, where we were met by a crew from Labor & Delivery and escorted right up to the birthing suite was, thankfully, unremarkable. I always joke that at least Mary knew what she was doing. One of the things that did get my attention though was that her cry was SOOO soft. It kind of startled me at the time. I found out later though, from talking to the L&D nurses, that it was more normal than I'd thought.
That started our (my) relationship with Jim, Anne, Mary, Elizabeth, Jimmy and the rest of the family. It's been pretty cool I must say, and I consider myself very fortunate to be able to remain in contact with the family. Too many times in this job despite doing everything well; the proper training, the right medications, the right procedures, in the right sequence, at the right time, we have a poor outcome. To be able to randomly run into the family somewhere in town or at a special event where they've chosen to include me just reinforces how cool that day was.
Here's a picture from last summer at one of those "randomly run into" things. Mary and two of the guys that helped deliver her, mugging for the camera. These days always make me smile. The "thank you" card Mary gave me from her birthday party does too. I don't have it with me as I write this, I left it at home, but I'll do my best to paraphrase her closing...
"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here"
That may a bit of a stretch, like I said, Mary knew what to do, lol. But it was so sweet. And so was the book full of pictures from the party. Mary, I may have been in the back of the ambulance when you were born, but sometimes, when I look back on that day, it's you that brings life to me.
Peace
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