Life as a Nurse Part 10


Medic five, Where are you?



There was a time in my career when things moved a bit slower, life seemed

much simpler and co-workers were considered family. That time has come

and gone and has been replaced with the high financing of the HMO system

and medical care for those who can afford it. Hospital nursing has

become a place where a warm body on your shift is considered qualified

care for patients who are in need of care. This story did not happen in

our now hectic times, but in a time when we depended on each other

both professionally and as your extended family away from home.

It has been nearly 18 years since the incident with medic five,

but I remember it as if it were yesterday. This story is true and is

dedicated to the man who pulled off a miracle.


Case in Point:


Medic 5 had been dispatched to a small rural town for a "man down" call.

These types of calls can be anything from an old man who fell out of his

chair, to a patient in full cardiac arrest. On this particular day, it

was the latter. I remember the radio bellowing out its call to the

hospital. It was a voice I knew well. Guy had been a paramedic for some

time and was excellent at his job. We often kidded each other as nurses

and medics will do, but we also respected each other and our positions

in the emergency field. I always knew I could count on him for excellent

patient care and as a dedicated friend.


"Base station one this is medic 5 with a full arrest." Guy said as a

matter of fact. There was no need to get excited. The basic rule is that

once a patient has gone into full arrest, you can't possibly do anything

to make them worse. Everything you do from that point on can only serve

to help the patient. Guy and I had run many codes together on the radio.

Guy in the field, and myself at the base station on the other end of a

two-way radio.


Guy reported the care he and Richard, his EMT, had initiated on the

patient. It was the usual cook book items that go with any full arrest.

"IV has been started, patient is intubated with 7.0 tube and first round

meds have been given. We are in route to your facility, and CPR is in

progress with a 15 minute ETA." I listen and jot down Guys assessment so

I can ready the doctor and ER crew for what is coming in. Respiratory

therapy has been called, and the doctor notified. We were ready.

And then there was silence.

With most medic calls, the paramedic stays in close contact with the

nurse so we can see through his words just what is going on. We rely on

his description of the patient to give us a visual imagine so we can

anticipate the care that will be required. This wasn't happening today.


"Damn it, Guy," I think, what the hell is going on. I try over and over

to raise him on the radio.

"Medic 5, this is Base station one, do you copy?" My pleas were met with

static and silence.

Where are they and what is wrong? I call the ambulance dispatch and ask

"where is medic 5?" They answer me, they are in route to you, but

dispatch was unable to get them to answer the radio.

I am about to send out a police unit when the silence is suddenly

broken and I hear Guy's voice, somewhat excited, but more irritated.

"Base station one, this is medic 5, be advised that we are delayed, our

ambulance has just blown up!" There was no fear in his voice, just another

fact for me to jot down on my run sheet.


I was the one in shock and disbelief. I answer him as calmly as possible.

"Medic 5, repeat? Your unit has exploded?. The answer comes back quickly.

This time I can hear the background noises of the fire engines and

traffic. "Base station one, that is affirmative, we had enough time to

get our patient, the drug box and the radio out before it blew up.

Be advised that we are just outside the local air base." On any other

occasion, the air force never left the confines of their secure base.

They had a fully equipped ambulance and hospital, but the general rule

was, if it doesn't happen on the base, they didn't get involved. Today

was different. They did dispatch an ambulance and assist in transporting

the patient to their own hospital. Although their attempts to save this

patient were appreciated, the patient had passed away long before medic 5

had ever arrived at the house to begin with. This was not a save.


It was later that we learned that while driving code three to our

hospital, a car had flagged Richard down and yelled to him that the

ambulance was on fire. Richard and Guy had no way of knowing what was

burning just beneath them. They had pulled over and extracted the things

they needed as their unit burned. Time was of the essence. The ambulances

carried several small oxygen tanks and one large tank located just

underneath the paramedic bench in the back of the unit. While waiting for

the fire dept. to arrive, the burning flames hit the large tank and the

entire unit exploded into oblivion.


I silently thanked the bystander who had flagged the unit down, I

thanked the patient who had been long deceased. If not this call, maybe

it would have been another and perhaps the heros that did their jobs

without hesitation would not have been so lucky. That day, they survived.

As another unit pulled into the ambulance bay at the hospital, I saw the

two men jump out of the unit, a bit sullen that their patient had not

made it, but they were both alive. One look into Guy's eyes said it all.

We both smiled, and knew that no other words were needed.


Today Guy has furthered his career and is a flight nurse in the Midwest.

I send him an occasional email and he always responds. Sadly Richard

died several years ago after a long battle with throat cancer. He still

remains alive in our memories. I know that Guy will read this story some day,

and so I dedicate this to him, a man with no fear, and the highest

integrity. This is for you Guy Hanson, with admiration for the man that you

were and the man that you have become.