Rescue 1 Responding: Chapter 19, a Book by Michael Morse
Michael Morse, Author
Rescue 1 Responding: Chapter 19, a Book by Michael Morse
I’m glad I took the time to document what happens during a typical tour on an advanced life support rig in Rhode Island’s capitol city. Looking back, I can hardly believe I lived it. But I did, and now you can too. Many thanks to GoLocalProv.com for publishing the chapters of my books on a weekly basis from now until they are through. I hope that people come away from the experience with a better understanding of what their first responders do, who they are and how we do our best to hold it all together,
Enjoy the ride, and stay safe!
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Providence Fire Department
The book is available at local bookstores and can be found HERE.
Note From the Author
One of the best things about being assigned to the EMS division of the Providence Fire Department is the freedom of movement. On any given day we transport our patients to six different facilities, Rhode Island Hospital, Hasbro Children’s Hospital. Roger Williams Medical Center, The VA, Miriam Hospital and Our Lady of Fatima. Every now and then we even venture into Pawtucket, at Memorial Hospital, and once in a blue moon we’ll take a road trip to Kent Hospital in Warwick. Every one of these places has its own personality, and their own set of characters that contribute to making them unique. As different as the area Emergency Rooms are they all exist for the same purpose; treating people who need medical care. The volume of patients that use the ER’s is staggering. Six, seven and ten hour waiting time to be seen is common, as is the accompanying complaining that comes with those waits.
The people who work at these places grin and bear the weight of a dysfunctional health care system with humor, sarcasm and professionalism. Getting to know the staff at the hospitals made the grueling hours and relentless need from a sometimes ungrateful public not only bearable, but something to look forward to. It was truly remarkable seeing the people that I got to know in action. When the daily routine is punctuated with a life and death situation, the folks I joke around with, and share stories about school, family and whatever people talk about become focused, competent, heroic and inspirational. Everybody makes a difference, from the guy who polishes the floors, the security personnel, registration, patient advocates, transport, aids, nurses, doctors, EMS, sometimes even other patients. It is a unique world, one that few will ever know. I consider myself blessed to have been part of it
Chapter 19
The guys from Engine 13 have finished with dinner and are watching the Red Sox game. Mike and I find our leftovers where we left them. The radiant heat from the oven has turned my steak from a medium-rare masterpiece into a well-done piece of shoe leather. My drink is warm so I open the freezer for an ice cube or two and see the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Sitting there, nestled between the empty ice cube tray and some frozen mozzarella sticks is a white cardboard box wrapped in a red ribbon. Not sure if I am dreaming I gingerly take the box out of the freezer and put it onto the kitchen counter. The ribbon is tied in a bow so I pull one of the loose ends and it falls from the box. Unable to take the suspense I open the lid. Two dozen manicotti lie inside in perfect rows. I have surely died and gone to heaven.
“Get your fat fingers out of the box,” says Captain Healy as he walks into the kitchen. “Those are for lunch next week.”
“I need them.” It is all I can say, for the first time in my life I am nearly speechless. My good fortune is unbelievable.
“We’re doing a Haz Mat drill Thursday morning so we picked those up when we got the ravioli. If you take them make sure you replace them.”
“I’ll replace them and I’ll even buy lunch. I was supposed to pick some up for Easter dinner at my house but never made it. I can’t believe these were in the freezer all week and I didn’t know it,” I say.
I take the keys to my car from on top of my desk and put them inside the box with the manicotti. There is no way I can leave the building without them.
“Did you know that those were in there?” I ask Mike.
“Of course.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t ask.”
2049 hrs. (8:49 p.m.)
“Rescue 1 a still alarm.”
I didn’t even get a chance to sit down.
“Rescue 1, respond to 160 Broad Street for a man experiencing back pain.”
“Rescue 1, responding.”
160 Broad is home to Crossroads. The organization running the place used to be called Traveler's Aid and was founded years ago to help people who were from out of town and needed a place to stay. They also provided comfort for weary travelers, directions and a cup of coffee. Their goodwill has metamorphosed from the intentions they were founded for into a homeless shelter. The people that benefit from the services provided there come from all walks of life. Most are good people down on their luck. They accept the help being offered until they can get back on their feet, then move on. For others, the agency and others like it provide a way of life that doesn’t include productive achievement. The subculture that exists out of sight of every day citizens thrives in places like these. It is actually a lot of work figuring out where all the freebies are and how to get them. If the recipients of the handouts put as much time into working as opposed to figuring out ways to beat the system we would all benefit.
Providence’s rescues are called to the “drop in center” at Crossroads numerous times every day. Most of our responses involve drug or alcohol abuse. Rhode Island Hospital is less than a mile from their location yet we are constantly being called there for non-emergency reasons. It is our job to help those in need, but we are constantly being called upon to help those who refuse to help themselves. In some ways we are acting as enablers to the people who refuse to be productive members of society.
We make it to Crossroads in four minutes. Standing outside is a man in his forties dressed in old jeans, sneakers and a hooded sweatshirt. Mike pulls the truck next to the curb where the man is standing. I unroll my window.
“Did you call for a rescue?” I ask him. He walks over to me with his hand on the small of his back and groans in pain.
“I have to go to Roger Williams,” he says.
“Why?” Roger Williams is a privately run hospital about six miles from Crossroads.
“I’ve been moving refrigerators all day. I can’t move, the pain is so bad.”
I get out of the truck and stand next to the man.
“We’ll take you to Rhode Island,” I tell him.
“I can’t go there, all of my doctors are at Roger Williams.”
“What are their names?”
“Doctor.”
That was a pretty good answer but there is no way I’m taking this guy across town to his hospital of choice when Rhode Island Hospital is a few blocks away.
“If you want to go to Roger Williams, take a bus.”
“What are you busting my balls for? It’s your job to take me, now let’s go and quit fucking around.”
Mike has joined me on the side of the truck.
“What’s going on over here?” he asks.
“This jack-off wants to go to Roger Williams. He tells me it’s my job to take him there.”
“Fuck him.” Says Mike, but in a nice way.
“Fuck you guys. This is unbelievable. I didn’t want to do this, but you give me no choice. I’m a State Police detective. Now let’s get out of here before you blow my cover.”
“If you are a State Police Detective, I’m Osama Bin Laden,” I say.
“Look, I’m a millionaire. I’ll hook you up when we get to Roger Williams.”
“You’ve got a deal. Let’s go,” I say.
Mike gives me a weird look as I help the nut into the rescue.
“Where are we going?” he asks.
“Rhode Island.” I answer, out of earshot of the millionaire.
“I’m glad you finally caught on, they don’t do anything at Rhode Island. At least at Roger Williams I’ll get some medicine,” he says.
“What kind of medicine?” I ask.
“Painkillers, what do you think.”
I get his name, date of birth and all of the other pertinent information in the minute that it takes to get to the hospital. As soon as the back up alarms go off he is on to me.
“You took me to Rhode Island!” he says, shocked.
“What did you expect, a free taxi ride? You’re lucky I took you anywhere. Get out.”
He is pissed, but accepts his fate. The fact that three of the ER’s security guards are outside the truck watching may have something to do with it. Elliot, Steve and Amir help me escort our “patient” in. I doubt he will be much trouble.
“What fabulous member of society are you gracing us with now?” asks Jim as he prepares his report.
“Forty-eight year old male, complaining of back pain since today as a result of moving refrigerators, originally demanded transport to Roger Williams because all of his doctors are there. He is alert and oriented, visions of his own grandiosity may be impairing his quest for potent painkillers.”
“Glorious,” says Jim and signs my report.
