And sometimes the job is ugly

A long time ago, in another life it seems,? Fran?ois Vincent and I rolled on a call for a patient who was 85-percent intoxicated and 15-percent angry and insisted he needed to be seen in hospital and absolutely required an ambulance to take him to the ER.

We weren’t up for an argument. We checked his vital signs and then walked down to the rig. He had refused to be carried in the stretcher which came as a relief because he lived in a third-floor walk-up in Point-Saint-Charles (Montréal).

In retrospect, I wish we had strapped him down on a stretcher. But hindsight is almost always 20-20 isn’t it?

The patient sat down on the benchseat and I took a seat at the head of stretcher facing him.?Fran?ois started rolling quietly towards the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in NDG.

I was filling out the requisite paperwork and got to the section reserved for a patient’s welfare number. If a patient was on welfare, the cost of the EMS transport would be covered by the government. So I asked the patient if he was on welfare.

Apparently he took great umbrage at my line of questioning.

In a flash he unclicked his seatbelt and leapt out of the bench and into my face. He began punching my face and head viciously with one hand while trying to crush my cojones with the other. I screamed out in pain and began trying to defend myself.

Fran?ois?called in on the radio that we were in distress and required police assistance immediately. He got the rig pulled over and then came running around to the back.

He said that when he pulled the back doors open he wasn’t sure he could find a way to pull us apart and that he briefly considered using a blast from the fire extinguisher to get the patient’s attention.

When?Fran?ois tells the story he always includes the part about the lights inside the rig flashing on and off as heads and fists kept hitting the switches. He said he couldn’t believe how much damage two people could do in such a tight space.

He did what all great partners do, he tried to find a way to have my back. But the patient’s rage wasn’t affected by me trying to stop him, by the sudden stop, or by Francois trying to find a way to separate me from his grip.

What stopped him – just for a momentary pause of consideration, and that was all I needed – was the sight and sounds of another ambulance arriving on the scene. That ambo fishtailed around the corner with its siren screaming, skidded to a stop right behind our rig, and paramedics Mike Crowley and Bob Harrison were climbing out while the dust was still considering whether or not it was time to settle.

The patient paused with one fist recoiled and ready for another round. I threw myself at his slightly off-balance stance and we both went out the back door of the rig and tumbled to the pavement where Fran?ois, Mike, and Bob subdued him before multiple police cars arrived.

I’ll never forget the sight of Mike and Bob coming around the corner riding that ambulance like they were the cavalry coming over the hill. They had heard the distress call while on a break downtown and came to lend a hand. Mike said he knew by the tone in Fran?ois’ voice that something really bad was going down.

I have no doubt that were it not for the efforts of other paramedics who had my back, my career could have ended right there in the back of that rig.

Be well. Practice big medicine.

Hal