Frequent Flyer Miles

Here I sit, in my favorite local coffeehouse, being serenaded by what I'm assuming is the madrigal group from one of the local high schools, thinking about the last 48 hours.  Ok, I'm not personally being serenaded, there's a full house here today.  And if they're not madrigals from one of the local high schools, well, fashions sure have changed around here.

But that's not why you tuned in...

As you may (or may not) know, our shifts at work are 24 hours on and 48 hours off.  Since I took overtime yesterday, I was at work from 7:00 AM Thursday until 7:00 AM this morning.  The overtime is nice, with the holiday approaching and small people to bribe with various gifts, the cash infusion will help.  And before any of you work-related people get all frazzled, this is NOT going to turn into a pitch, one way or another, about 48/96's.

This is simply about observation and reminiscence from my time in the Deeg and some of the people I came to know.

From the title, you may (rightly) pick up on the fact that we see some patients more often than others.  These regular callers are known as "frequent flyers" due to the fact that some of them spend more time in the back of the ambulance than we do.  Ok, slight exaggeration there, but you get the picture.  Now, this is not specific to Downers Grove.  If you work in public safety, either police, fire or EMS, you have them.  And, some are eminently more likable than others.

Joe for example.  He was a frequent flyer earlier in my career.  He used to meet us at the sidewalk in front of his apartment, hat and suitcase in hand, waiting for his ride to the ER.  His complaint was typically "trouble breathing" yet he exhibited no signs or symptoms of any trouble.  We soon came to understand that he was, in fact, lonely.  He had no family.  He had no regular outlet for human contact.  When he needed a fix of humans, he called 9-1-1 and spent a few hours in the ER getting what companionship he needed to get by.  As time went on, Joe's complaints started to become more genuine and we got to where we would have to go in to his apartment and help him, if not carry him, out to the ambulance.  Toward the end of my "relationship" with Joe he would, on occasion, need actual treatment.  Joe always treated us with the utmost respect.  I was out of town when Joe passed.  I wish I had known, I would have certainly gone to pay my respects to a nice man that lived a lonely life.

Another example is Betelgeuse (not his real name).  The nickname kind of evolved because, like in the movie, we joked that if we mentioned his name, he'd appear.  This guy was an ex-con, a recovering junkie, and a not-so-recovering alcoholic.  It was not uncommon to find him covered in, well, covered in nasty.  Use your imagination.  But, Betel always, ALWAYS, treated us with respect.  He told us, right up front, that he carried a couple of infectious diseases and that we should use caution.  That, to me, is a stand up move from a guy that maybe didn't make the most of the opportunities life offered him.  He could have said nothing and risked an exposure on our part.  But he didn't.  And no matter how messed up he was when we went to get him, he always called us "sir" and thanked us.

I'll always remember the first time I met Betelgeuse.  We got a call for a "man down" and, when we got there, his sponsor met us.  He had tried to reach him all day without success.  So he drove over and, looking through the patio door, saw his friends feet sticking out from the bathroom.  We got in the apartment and found Betel, passed out drunk.  We checked for injuries and, finding none, helped him to a chair while we waited for our far south side ambulance to get there.  Now, on this particular night E-3 consisted of me, another old head, and a brand spanking new guy.  I don't remember exactly how long he had on-the-job, but it was only a couple months.  Maybe three.  So, since we had time to wait, we suggested to our new guy that he start an IV on Betel while we waited.  He got alongside the patient and started looking for a likely spot on the back of Betel's left hand, a typical site for IV's.  Watching this unfold, Betel helpfully offered that it might be a better idea to use a similar site on his right hand.  New guy looked at him briefly and resumed the search for a vein on his original choice of sites.

Old guy and I looked at each other and smiled.

Hey, kid's gotta learn, amirite?

Predictably the new guy was unable to get the IV.  Since by this time M-5 had arrived, we helped Betel out to the ambulance and got back in E-3.  As we were pulling away I asked the new guy what he had learned.

"Uhhh, I need to use a better angle of approach..." or some such blather was his reply.

I told him that no, he was wrong.  His takeaway from this particular call SHOULD have been-

"When a junkie tells you what vein to use, always use the vein he tells you."

Believe me, no-one on. the. planet. can find a vein better than a junkie.

So, me personally, I don't have a huge problem with frequent flyers as long as they're respectful.  And this whole stream of consciousness was brought about by three visits to another frequent flyer over the last 48.  Frank certainly falls into the "Joe" category.  He's older, his heath, while not great, is iffy, he lives alone, no apparent family nearby and he is in need of assistance, more and more each day.  Again, Frank is always nice to us, apologizes for bothering us, etc.  But he needs help and we can provide it.  I think in his case, it's actually health-related more so than loneliness although there is an aspect of that too.

Still, these three, while having differing issues and needs, all treated us lowly public safety folks politely.

Not so much with Russell.

In a two year period, Russell and/or his wife Carol used our services over 180 times.  That's not a typo.  180.  And that doesn't count the times a neighboring town took one or the other (or both) in.  Or they took a bus.  Or walked.  Any of the other ways one might get themselves to the ER.  Probably the most memorable incident with them came around 11:00 one night.  Just to give you a frame of reference, my firehouse is, straight line, between 200 and 300 yards from the front door to the ER.  Like, two or three football fields away.  Like, you can clearly see the ambulance entrance from "the bubble" at the front of the firehouse.  And btw that's the best spot in any of our firehouses.  But that's a story for another day.  Anyway, around 11:00 PM we get a call for "chest pain" at the intersection between our station and the ER.  We looked out the door as we got ready to head out and saw...

Russell and Carol standing under the streetlight.

As it turned out, Carol had just been released from the ER for another nonexistent illness and, since PADS was long since closed for the night, Russell started having chest pain.  He didn't of course.  He never did.  Nor did she.  But they knew how to work the system, the right words to use to guarantee a trip to a dry place to sleep and warm food.

Don't misunderstand me, I don't mean to imply they had no redeeming qualities, although none ever presented to any of us, I'm just saying that when it comes to frequent flyers, Russell and Carol brought more groans per capita than possibly any other system abuser.

Ok, I'm back at it tomorrow.  I'm going back to take another leisurely walk around the neighborhood with the Blond Dog.

Peace