My friend Lilly

Lilly* has schizophrenia. As if that isn’t enough, she was also born early, to a cocaine-addicted mother, with hydrocephalus. She also has bi-polar disorder, diabetes, and is legally blind. Her growth was severely stunted by all of her problems, and even though she is in her mid thirties, she is barely 4 feet tall. Lilly’s mother and her crack-dealing boyfriends abused her as a child.

Lilly’s aunt “takes care” of her. What she actually does is provide a place for Lilly to live. Auntie tries, and she tries hard. But she can’t do it. Auntie says Lilly is family, and family takes care of family. Auntie makes sure Lilly gets all of her medications every day, and makes sure she is well-fed and clothed.

Auntie doesn’t have much. She lives on a paltry disability check she gets, and her son contributes some of his earnings he makes selling drugs in the neighborhood. I can’t imagine how they manage to eat, much less afford their home. Auntie inherited the home from her mother when she died a few years ago, and somehow makes the mortgage payment.

Lilly doesn’t want for love. Her cousin, her Auntie, their extended family, and even the neighbors all care about Lilly. But Lilly is sick.

Lilly has psychotic breaks about three times a week, and has been for several years. She throws things in the house, punches walls, scratches cars with keys, screams, swings at people, and does all the things to be expected.

She can’t help it.

So the police go to the scene to make sure she doesn’t physically hurt anyone, and to try to stop Lilly from causing more property damage. They don’t arrest her, because she doesn’t need to be arrested. They call for an ambulance, because she needs mental help, and there is no such thing as a mental health house call where Lilly is. The call for the ambulance invariably triggers a call for a fire crew in their engine.

But the loud noise from the engine makes Lilly agitated, and the crew doesn’t really know what to do. They just know they aren’t needed there, but they have to be there until we can get there.

So we show up, and we spend the next thirty minutes doing everything we can to talk Lilly down.

I like Lilly, and I would like to think she feels the same way about me. We have a routine: I kneel down and remove my sunglasses so we can make eye contact, I touch her shoulder and introduce myself, and she screams at me. I tell her that I am here to take her away from what is making her upset, so she can go talk to someone if she wants to, or so she can be alone for a little while.

Lilly always agrees. Sometimes it takes longer to talk with her, but she always agrees.

Then we take her to the hospital her Auntie chooses, since Auntie has power of attorney.

The hospital staff is incredibly nice to her. They all say hello, and they smile. They allow her to keep her clothes on, and they give her a soda and saltine crackers.

Sometimes, a physician will sign an involuntary hold order, and Lilly has to go to an inpatient center for several days. But that doesn’t fix the problem.

I really don’t know what Lilly needs. I think she needs a nursing home of some sort, or at least an assisted-living facility. But I don’t know how that would help.

I just know the current situation isn’t working.

Poor Lilly is a horrible victim of a horrible situation, and she can’t help it.

 

*Not her real name, of course.

This really happened

Some urgent care center called us to transfer a lady to the hospital for observation. “Rule out chest pain” were the notes on the call. Which means someone was dumb enough to say that to a call-taker, and the call-taker was dumb enough to actually type it into the notes of the call.

“Do you have chest pain? Yes?” There. Chest pain has now been ruled in. Fixed it for you.

I digress.

Nurse hands me an envelope sealed tighter than an evidence packet. She walks away. Interested in what findings this dipshit nurse may have found, I follow her out to the desk.

“Can I get a report on the patient in B?” I ask her as politely as humanly possible.

“Everything the hospital needs is in that envelope, and I already called report to them.”

“Oh, okay. But I could use a report, just so I know what is going on.”

“I can’t tell you that. That would be a HIPAA violation.”

—–

Now this is where the old CCC would have said something along the lines of “Come on, lady. It’s a HIPAA violation for you not to give me a report. This is 2013, and you can’t give me a report on a patient you expect me to take care of for the next half-hour? Oh, that’s right. I just ride in the back of my ambulance, twiddling my thumbs. I didn’t spend 3 years in school or nothing.”

But nice CCC says: “Oh, okay. Have a nice day.” As he opens the envelope and begins reading the notes.

Just another miracle of modern medicine. Better living through pharmacology, I say.

 

Grumpy Geriatric German

It was obvious the family didn’t want this old lady in the house. She’s had a stroke, and now she is basically trapped in her power wheelchair. They take good care of her, but it seems like they don’t want to. She apparently was “dazed” for a few minutes so they want us to run her across town in rush hour traffic to “get checked out.”

Whatever.

She strikes me as grumpy. Not to us, but to her family members who seem to be completely ignoring her.

We’ve got a long way to go, and I’m curious about where she is from, with her thick German accent.

“What part of Germany are you from?”

“Nuremberg”

“Neat. My family came from Schwabach.*” She is not impressed. “When did you move to the States?”

“1947”

Holy shit.

It dawns on me. She’s 84, and lived in Nuremberg in the 1940s. She was 19 when she moved from Germany.

We spent the next hour talking about what it was like growing up as a teenager in Nazi Germany.

She had incredible, heart-wrenching stories.

She smiled at me when I left and I said “auf weidersehen.” I wonder when the last time she smiled was. I wonder when the last time someone talked to her. I wonder when the last time someone listened to her.

 

*Essentially a suburb of Nuremberg.**

**I can do geography, too.

 

I don’t like to take riders

I don’t like to take passengers in the ambulance with us to the hospital. They are a distraction to me in the back, the patient, and to my partner, who theoretically could be referred to as an “ambulance driver.”

Gasp. I said it.

But yeah, I prefer not to take riders. I don’t really mind if a husband or wife wants to ride along, or a parent of a young child wants to ride along, but that’s pretty much where I draw the line.

So we get called to an office tower for a “female in her 20s with difficulty breathing.” I know what you are thinking, and no, it was not a panic attack. Turns out the office was painted or something, and the fumes triggered her asthma.

Poor girl. (She is better now.)

Her boss approaches, wearing an ill-fitting pantsuit with an air of attitude about her.

“I’m going to ride to the hospital with her in the ambulance.”

“Actually, we only take riders if they are family. You are welcome to follow in your car if you would like. Maybe you could give her a ride back to her car when she gets discharged?”

“No. I’m going to ride in the ambulance with her.”

Now, in general, I don’t appreciate when people tell me what they are going to do, I prefer that they ask me. Unless it’s vomit related. Then a person is free to tell me they are going to vomit.

“Well, actually, we have a policy that says only family members can ride to the hospital in the ambulance, I’m really sorry.” I catch the eyes of the patient during this conversation and I can see her trepidation. Something is on her mind, and I have the feeling that I am doing the right thing for the patient.

“I want your supervisor’s phone number!” she yells at me.

“No problem” I say, handing over a business card with the requested phone numbers.

After loading the patient in the ambulance and giving her some medications to start fixing her situation, I ask the patient about her the medications she takes aside from the asthma. She is a healthy appearing woman, so I don’t expect too much.

She starts rattling off medications that sound familiar, but that I don’t hear often. I stop writing, and look at her as her office building begins disappearing from the rear windows.

“So what kind of medical problems do you have?” I ask her.

“I have asthma.”

“What else?”

She hangs her head a bit and her voice cracks. “HIV.”

“How long have you known?”

“Only a few months” she replies, and her eyes begin to water.

We spend the next twenty minutes checking vital signs, talking about what she does at work, and (seriously) the sequestration crisis.

As we pull onto the hospital ramp, she looks at me, her eyes asking the question.

“You aren’t going to tell my boss, are you?” she asks.

“I wouldn’t tell your boss, even if I was allowed to. Nobody here will tell her anything, and they will keep her out of your room if you want.”

She seems relieved, and I am glad that I could comfort her in some way.

Somebody tell me that she would have felt comfortable telling me such private information with her overbearing boss ten feet away.

It wouldn’t have happened.

So only family rides.

 

Stop the charade

Look, I don’t want to be at work either. I come to this place at least twice a week, most frequently on Mondays, and it is always the same thing: a female feeling faint, or with chest pain, or with difficulty breathing.

I understand your boss is a really, really big meany-head, and doesn’t like it when you call out to work because you were hung over the whole weekend, I really do. I get it. I promise.

But every time you call for something like “feeling faint” or “chest pain” or with “difficulty breathing,” we send a fire truck, an rescue truck, and an ambulance to this place.

Ten people, eight EMTs and two paramedics, in 3 vehicles, for one person who just doesn’t want to be at work.

And when you call with one of those complaints, we have to send all those people to this place because it might actually be an ALS call. Then we have to start lines, do 12-leads, give aspirin and nitro, and the hospital has to waste their time doing the same thing.

And I know there isn’t anything wrong with any of you. I’ve been coming here weekly for years. Literally, years. I could drive here in my sleep. It’s like a giant room full of women crying wolf.

So I propose a deal: I will continue being the jovial paramedic who is genuinely concerned for your well-being, and you stop complaining of these things. How about “back pain from a kidney stone” or “nausea” or “pregnancy problem” or something that is BLS, but sick enough for your boss to believe your story.

I will still bring the stretcher to you, because we all know you can’t walk. I’ll still take you to the hospital, and they will still give you a work excuse, and your friend can also get off of work to come pick you up from the hospital, and you can both be back at your house in time to catch Judge Judy.

Stop the charade.

A comment from Flash Larry on “Who is the customer / You make the call”

So Flash Larry blew up my blog, again, with one of his comments. Really though, I appreciate your comments, Flash. Ladies and gentlemen, I have a notion that Flash is more knowledgeable than most of us could hope to be.

My previous post questioned what the correct action would be when an EMS unit is told by a healthcare provider and a company policy to transport a patient to a certain hospital, and what the consequences of transporting that patient to a hospital that is not equipped to handle the specific problem. In this instance, interventional cardiology.

I have pieced together Flash’s reply, and added my comments as well.

He begins:

 The issue here is one of informed consent. In my state, a patient has the absolute right to be transported to the facility of his choice with one exception.

 This is always a good topic, the one of “informed consent.” What exactly is “informed consent?” Are we to inform each patient each time we establish an IV that there is the risk of catheter shear, which could cause an embolism? Are we to inform the patient, or family member, each time we administer dextrose that there is the risk of infiltration, which could cause tissue necrosis and the possibility of loss of the affected limb? I think that might be going a little too far.

I do not think informing the patient of their current medical problem and the care that is necessary is going too far. We get into that in just a little bit. Stand by.

 The exception, which bears discussion: The regulations state that if the EMS service medical director has established a “reasonable distance” for transports that the medical director can override the patient’s wishes if the patient wants to go further than the “reasonable distance.” The intent of the regulation was to prevent a patient from demanding transport to a distant city. It is my understanding that the medical directors of some services are establishing “reasonable distances” that insure that patients go to particular hospitals of their choice. The matter has not yet been litigated but at some point, it will be and then a jury will determine what constitutes a reasonable distance. That will be interesting both in the courtroom and in the newspapers.

 Flash answered my question before I had time to ask it: Just how far is a “reasonable distance?”

My company has a policy that states, in essence, we will transport a patient to any hospital in a county that is contiguous with ours. And that seems reasonable. In the previous scenario, Roundthecorner Medical Center and St. Elsewhere are in two contiguous counties.

I once worked in a city in which ambulance service was provided by two privately owned hospitals. The hospitals and EMS services got along very well, because they had the patient’s best interest in mind. While I worked for both services at the same time, it was routine to transport patients to the hospital of their choice, regardless of what was on the side of my ambulance. “Which hospital would you like to go to?” became a staple question during my assessments.

 I don’t know what the laws are in your states but here it appears that the ambulance service rule is denying the patient the right to informed consent, which is actionable at law in several ways. As all of you know, patient consent is required before you treat them. Under the law of my state, if a mentally functioning patient is informed as to what you’re doing and doesn’t express opposition, then consent is presumed (this arose out of a patient who did not expressly consent but did not object to care and then turned around and sued for failure to obtain consent. The appellate courts ruled that the plaintiff should have expressed opposition at the time of care rather than suing later).

 Frankly, I do not know the specific laws in my state, but I will be a good little blogger and go research them.

When the word “actionable” is used, I have to ask “actionable against whom?” As far as I can tell, it is my duty to provide the informed consent, and I am responsible if my actions violate the law, regardless of company policy. If my company policy requires that I physically touch each and every patient, yet I physically touch a patient who has refused my touching, then I have commited battery, and no company policy is going to provide me coverage in a court of law.

A far-fetched scenario, I know.

However, the second part of consent is that it must be informed. The patient must be informed of his condition and risks of treatment. Therefore any rule that states otherwise is contrary to law.

Therefore, this patient should be informed that his EKG shows what may be an imminently serious cardiac condition that is usually effectively treated by a particular procedure, be told what the different facilities can and cannot do, what your recommendation is and what you’d do with another patient in the same condition for whom you had not received specific orders. It is not necessary to tell him that they screwed up the 12-lead but that yours shows something different than what they got when they took it and things might have changed (they do, actually).

The patient is then able to make his own informed choice as to where he should go.

It’s not necessary to suggest, then or later, that the transferring facility made any errors. The most important thing is that your documentation supports your decision.

 The hospital in question, Roundthecorner Medical Center, can perform cardiac catheterization, but cannot perform interventional cardiology. Most often what happens when they perform a catheterization in which a stent is needed, is that the hospital will place an intra-aortic balloon pump, then have the patient transferred to a hospital that is capable of PCI.

While it is not necessarily my purview, I can’t help but wonder if RMC informs those patients “Hey, we couldn’t fix this problem when you came in the door, and we knew that, but we decided to ‘take a look’ anyway. Now we have to put this complicated piece of equipment in your aorta to help your heart pump, wait on a receiving facility to actually accept you, and wait on an equipped, knowledgeable ambulance crew to come transfer you. Sorry we didn’t send you there sooner.”

Whenever I am handed paperwork from any healthcare facility, I look at it, and make not of what they found. I always perform my own tests because, as you say, things change. Things change frequently and often.

 If you do not proceed in terms of informed consent, you and your company (under the doctrine of respondeat superior) could be held liable at law for any injury to the patient caused by taking him somewhere he didn’t want to do or by not informing him of his conditions and the destination options. As well, the paramedic could be in danger of losing his license for violating state regulations. I assure you, if it comes to a court case or administrative hearing, the ambulance service will NOT send in their owners and managers to say, “It’s not his fault, we told him to do that.” They will say, “We never, ever, ever would tell one of our employees to do anything that would be detrimental to patient care or in violation of the law.”

 For those that are interested or don’t know, respondeat superior is Latin for “let the master answer.” In many cases, the employer has to answer for the actions of their employees. It is also known as the “Master-Servant Rule.” Essentially, the employee cannot be held liable for actions that he performs when those actions are required by his employer. Actions that are outside the scope of the law, however, do not make the employee immune to prosecution for those actions.

If, however, the employer says, as Flash alluded, “We never, ever, ever would tell one of our employees to do anything that would be detrimental to patient care or in violation of the law.” and the employer can prove with company documentation that the opposite is true, the employee’s actions could still be actionable.

Ignorance of the law is not a defense.

 Which brings me to a question, CCC? Is that policy that you specified actually in writing anywhere, or is it word of mouth? (see above paragraph if it’s word of mouth or less than explicit)

 This policy is explicit. While not in an employee handbook, it is in writing elsewhere.

 If, on the other hand, you transport the patient to the appropriate facility (18 miles away) WITH the patient’s informed consent, and most especially if you are proven right and the company takes an adverse personnel action against you, the company may be liable at law in a lawsuit brought by the employee for creating a policy that violates state law. I can also assure you that public opinion would not be on the side of the company either, if it became public. Nor, I think, would the patient support the company’s adverse personnel action. Nor, I think, would the transferring office (who must have some reason for wanting them transported to a particular facility) be interested in having it made public.

 Employment law in my state allows an employer to terminate an employee for virtually anything. That isn’t to say that the employer would not be liable for creating a policy that violates state law, however.

I believe the public should know what we are doing, and why we are doing it. But that’s just me.

 Always, always, always do that which is in the best interests of the patient and what complies with the law.

 I have always done what is in the best interest of the patient. While I did not take the Hippocratic oath when I began working on an ambulance, I believe whole heartedly to “do no harm” is the ultimate goal. “Doing harm” can be something as simple as transporting a STEMI patient to a hospital that does not perform PCI, at least in my eyes.

 One of my more famous moments was when I was dispatching one day (yes, I did that too) and with all my units tied up, had a walk-in to the station having a possible heart attack. After warning my units to hold their traffic, I put the patient on high-flow oxygen, went back in and called a competing private service to come get the patient out of our main station. It was the only option I had. It was in the best interest of the patient. Fortunately my boss at the time ever only asked one question when you went outside the box, and that was exactly that. Was it in the best interests of the patient? As he said, every time, “Patient care comes first.”

That’s the way it should be.

I am glad your former boss saw the patient’s well-being as the first and foremost responsibility. Even though we compete with each other, the ultimate goal is the same: take care of people.

Patient care always comes first.

Thanks for your comments, Flash.

Who is the customer/You make the call

So; a scenario:

You respond to a local urgent care center where a Nurse Practitioner (there is no physician on staff) shows you to a middle-aged male who came in complaining of chest pain. The NP informs you that she performed a 12-lead, but didn’t see anything “really too wrong.” She also informs you that she has already called report to Roundthecorner Medical Center, and they are awaiting your arrival.

Roundthecorner Medical Center is one mile away.

After loading the patient in your ambulance, you perform your own 12-lead and almost fall over when you notice the humongous ST-segment depressions in the anterior, lateral, and septal leads.

Roundthecorner Medical Center does not perform interventional catheterization. They can perform caths, but can’t place stents. (Don’t get me started on that one.)

St. Elsewhere is 18 miles away, and they have the whole host of cardiology services.

For the sake of argument, your patient is stable enough to make the trip to St. Elsewhere. I’m not too interested in treatments, just the next decision to be made.

Your company policy says you must transport the patient to the hospital that the customer (in this case the NP) selected, and you are not supposed to even attempt to persuade the patient to choose another hospital.

Do you:

A: Take the patient to Roundthecorner Medical Center

B: Inform the patient that he is having “the big one” and transport him to Roundthecorner Medical Center

C: Inform the patient that he is having “the big one” and suggest he goes to St. Elsewhere

D: Suggest to the patient that he go to St. Elsewhere as opposed to Roundthecorner Medical Center, without telling him why.

 

I’m interested in reading your choice, and why you made that choice.

I’ve always held that the patient is the true customer, and the one we should be most focused on. I’ll let you all know what I would choose some time in the next few days.

Shift change

Slimm says we are going to the local nursing home, and points to the MDT. “80Y/O M LOW-BP” it says.

Fair enough. Sounds interesting.

We arrive to see another one of our ambulances on scene, with the crew going inside. “What are you guys doing here?” a crewmember asks.

“Picking up somebody on the North Wing” is Slimm’s reply.

“Cool, so are we.”

Hmmm.

Our patient is about as distress-free as possible. I think he is taking an afternoon nap, when his nurse walks in.

“He isn’t normally my patient. I normally work on another wing. His blood pressure was eighty-over-fifty-two when we checked it just a little while ago. His doctor says he needs to go to the hospital.”

“Great, thanks for the info” Slimm says as he takes the packet from the nurse.

After moving the nice octogenarian to the stretcher and walking outside, we see that the previous ambulance has now been replaced by yet another ambulance from our service.

“You guys picking up, too?” I ask.

“Yeah, someone on the North Wing. I think the call is for nausea.”

Now that is interesting. Three calls from the same wing (which have about 15 rooms per wing) in less than 10 minutes.

It’s interesting until I take a glance at my watch: 3:17.

Shift change.

Not really a stabbing

The “stabbing” that we sent 12 people to, blaring their sirens and flashing their lights, turns out to be a goofball who poked himself in the top of the hand with a steak knife.

Some college-aged moron was playing the “knife game” while drunk.

I have seen the future, and we are doomed.

Nevertheless, he actually bled a good amount. One of his roommates was kind enough to bandage everything up before the fire department got there, and he did a darned good job of it, too. Like, 4×4 dressing and kling wrapped, and tied in a knot.

The bleeding is controlled, and not a single spot show through the bandage.

I think the roommate said something about being a boy scout, but he was slurring his words pretty hard. Regardless, I’m not one to remove a bandage just to look at a wound, when the bleeding is already controlled.

Laziness, maybe. Maybe not.

He wants to go to the hospital across the county to be near his mommy. If I were drunk and stabbed myself while playing the knife game on a dare, the last place I would want to be is near my mother. It’s a low-priority call, so Slimm jumps in the back and I drive.

I catch about 20 minutes of a Rush Limbaugh rerun on the way.

At the hospital, after dropping him off, my Slimm is approached by the doctor on staff.

Hey, did you guys even look at the cut on his hand?”

No, not really. The bleeding was controlled by the time we got there, and the bandage was already on. We didn’t want to remove the bandage just to look at it.”

I’m hiding around the corner, but within earshot, working on my first cup of coffee.

Well, you guys should have looked at it. It’s only like, two centimeters long and not very deep. It will probably only take one stitch, but we might be able to glue it.”

Oh, so you guys can handle it? Or do we need to run him down to the trauma center?”

I choked on that sip of coffee.

Physician vs. Patient vs. Paramedic

Chest pain at an urgent-care facility. A female in her 40s, according to the dispatch notes. For all we know, this could be a 93 year old male with a bunion. Silly call takers.

This time, they got it right.

“She is 43,” the physician on staff informs us. “Her chest has been hurting since 11 o’clock last night, and she needs to go to the emergency room. Her EKG is abnormal” he goes on, as he hands me a 12-lead.

It’s a sinus rhythm in the 70s with not a thing wrong. I couldn’t draw one better with a ruler and 6 hours of practice. But it says “Abnormal EKG” at the top.

I guess ‘reading EKGs’ is the same as ‘reading the words at the top of the EKG’ to some people.

“Hi, I’m C from the ambulance, how are you doing today?” I ask the very matronly, middle-eastern appearing woman in the room. I notice she is fully clothed, and wonder how an accurate EKG was obtained through a sweater, long sleeve shirt, and bra.

I suppose she could have gotten dressed after disrobing, but I doubt it.

“I’m fine, I guess. What are you guys doing here?” She looks genuinely puzzled.

“Well, the doctor called us and thinks you should go to the emergency room because your chest hurts.”

“I threw up 5 times last night and it made my throat burn. Where did he get chest pain? I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

The doctor walks in the room; “Yes ma’am, these nice ambulance people are going to take you to the hospital to make sure everything is alright.”

“But I don’t want to go to the hospital!” she retorts.

“I really think it is in your best interest” the doctor replies as he walks out of the room.

She acquiesces to the suggestion, but seems hesitant. I’m not too concerned just yet.

“Let’s move you into the ambulance, and get a few things done, and just go from there.”

After loading her in the ambulance, and several uncomfortable moments while she undresses from the waist up, with her modesty maintained, of course, her EKG still looks better than mine. Try and try, I can’t find anything wrong with it. Her vital signs are more than fantastic. Excellent, actually.

We determine that she vomited several times during the night after eating sushi and having drinks with her friends. Her throat and nostrils were burning, but her pain was gone now. Drinking milk or cold liquids seemed to help the situation. Then she says the magic words:
“I don’t want to go to the hospital.”

We do the whole rigmarole with the refusal paperwork, and she signs the form, saying she will go to the hospital if she ever needs to, but will never come back to this place.

I don’t blame her.

She gets dressed again, and steps out of the ambulance, walks to her car, then drives off. After we rearrange the ambulance and put the equipment back, I step out of the side door, to be met by the same doctor from inside with a very disapproving look on his face.

“Just what do you think you are doing?”

“Getting in the ambulance, and going in service” I reply. “The patient didn’t want to go to the hospital.”

“She has to go, I’m the doctor, and that’s why I called the ambulance.”

“Maybe if you had explained to her that you wanted to go to the hospital by ambulance, she could have told you she didn’t want to go, and you wouldn’t have wasted her time.”

Paramedics-1 Urgent Care-0