Tachylawdy

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing. She’s got the tachylawdys.”

“Geez. Take her to triage.”

***

‘Tachylawdy’ is a thing down here. Along with sick rags, but that’s a whole different post. Never have I seen tachylawdy present in a sick patient. Not once. The only times I have seen tachylawdy present in the field are:

  • anxiety
  • doesn’t want to be at work
  • [pick your male family member] is getting arrested
  • anxiety because of being at work
  • getting pulled over

I have never seen a patient present with the tachylawdys without the presence of other concerned family members. Nor have I ever seen a male patient present with the tachylawdys. I have, however, seen the tachylawdys present in female family members that were present while I was caring for another person, be it male or female.

Basically, you walk into a house and find a female, usually with the back of her hand on her forehead, always with her head turned away from you, eyes closed, not a damn thing wrong with her:

“Oh, lawdylawdylawdylawdylawdy…. OOOOOOOH, lawdylawdylawdylawdylawdylawdyheppmelawdylawdylawdy…”

***

Bradyjeezus now, is much, much more serious.

Overheard in the EMS room

Two guys, who work for the same company, but not Local Ambulance:

“You know, I’m thinking of getting out this business.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“No, man, I’m serious.”

“Yeah, right. What are you going to do?”

“I’m thinking of going into acting.”

“What makes you think you could be an actor?”

“I think I’m pretty good at it. I act like I care every day at work.”

Overtime sucks

I never pick up overtime shifts. Except when I do.

Now I’m stuck in this ambulance sitting in the parking lot of some hospital in an unfamiliar county, waiting on some little old lady to finish with her lunch so we can take her back to her nursing home. With a guy that has a strange, slightly unpleasant odor, and a penchant for telling war stories. I just want to take a nap, and this guy is trying to tell me about a bus crash on the side of a mountain during the first Bush administration.

Some war stories are cool. But not this guy’s war stories.

My employer is paying me time-and-a-half for this shift. And that still isn’t enough.

Three

My blog turns three today.

Yay.

It has been pretty fun so far.

Thanks, Dave. I’ve enjoyed the ride.

Here’s to many more years.

Hurry up and wait

“You guys want to do a SWAT standby?”

“Uh, is the Pope Catholic?”

“Okay, head over to PD headquarters. Briefing starts in fifteen.”

Forty-five minutes later, no briefing. That’s fine. Newguy and I are flicking a paper football across a desk. He’s winning.

Finally the briefing starts. Some guy got mad at another guy for talking to the first guy’s girlfriend, so he punched him, then the first guy stabbed the second guy with a screwdriver and killed him. Now there is a murder warrant, and these nice fellows are going to persuade first guy to come spend some time with them in their Iron Bar Motel.

All over a girl.

Three hours after clocking in, we leave PD headquarters. My stomach rumbles, reminding me that lunch time is fast approaching. I’m always hungry though.

PD makes us stage at the entrance to the neighborhood, not too far from the suspect’s home, but not visible. Except to the dozens of cars entering and leaving. We are hanging out with some fire guys and PD officers. At least the weather is nice.

“We are looking to go in about an hour.”

“Sweet.”

Now I’m really hungry, but we can’t leave. I make an executive decision and find a phone number after a quick Google search.

“Hey, what do you like on your pizza?”

“Black olives and tomatoes.”

“On it.”

The pizza shop guy takes my order, and seems confused when I tell him I am at the entrance to a neighborhood. “I’m one of the two guys in white shirts, by the ambulance. You can’t miss it.”

The pizza was delicious.

And after thirty minutes of strongly-worded warnings from police, a door being kicked in, and swift SWAT action, the call is over.

The perp wasn’t home.

Best five-hour call ever.