Breathing Problems, Puke, and Secrets
So I've thoroughly been enjoying my ambulance ride-along time. Can we say story fodder? Holy crow. I've barely tapped into this experience, but I've already seen people in a dozen new ways, taking a glimpse of their life by how they keep their home and, particularly on last Tuesday, how one deals with a sense of shame being shunted away in an ambulance. When the person isn't laid down, it's like a giant moving throne parading about, elevated enough that rolling out doesn't look like a good idea and you certainly draw attention if the lights and sirens did not already.
I remember some of the names. But I can't talk about that. I'm probably not even supposed to mention what kind of conditions we're dealing with.
I might be able to mention that the first patient I went on a call was trying to move into the hospital, ie had to have several items come with her in the ambulance.
One patient was a regular and drug seeker.
Another was embarrassed to be a bother, tears tracing between the tape that held her head to spine board.
Another patient will only ever be shunted between hospital and nursing home, trusting people such as myself to help her breathe on those rare moments moving between the two.
So, I've carried things, cleaned cots and the ambulance, restocked, assisted in strapping and lifting spine boards, assisted in ventilations with a bag-valve mask, and gave oxygen.
This, I think, I'm allowed to talk about. Otherwise, I'm holding a small pile of secrets. Patient confidentiality and HIPAA say no. Can I go into my empathy for the boyfriend who was visibly shaking, trying to convince the patient to go with us? Observation of drug paraphernalia? Can I express my concern for the excited and terrified children, not sure what's wrong with Dad? Or my unease stepping into a cluttered, tiny hallway?
These don't reveal any medical information, but it breaks a sort of privacy all the same.
Strange. I'm not sure what to do with this feeling or, again, how much I'm legally allowed to say let alone morally allowed to mention.
Robin suggested poetry.
Otherwise, I can totally picture doing this job.
I remember some of the names. But I can't talk about that. I'm probably not even supposed to mention what kind of conditions we're dealing with.
I might be able to mention that the first patient I went on a call was trying to move into the hospital, ie had to have several items come with her in the ambulance.
One patient was a regular and drug seeker.
Another was embarrassed to be a bother, tears tracing between the tape that held her head to spine board.
Another patient will only ever be shunted between hospital and nursing home, trusting people such as myself to help her breathe on those rare moments moving between the two.
So, I've carried things, cleaned cots and the ambulance, restocked, assisted in strapping and lifting spine boards, assisted in ventilations with a bag-valve mask, and gave oxygen.
This, I think, I'm allowed to talk about. Otherwise, I'm holding a small pile of secrets. Patient confidentiality and HIPAA say no. Can I go into my empathy for the boyfriend who was visibly shaking, trying to convince the patient to go with us? Observation of drug paraphernalia? Can I express my concern for the excited and terrified children, not sure what's wrong with Dad? Or my unease stepping into a cluttered, tiny hallway?
These don't reveal any medical information, but it breaks a sort of privacy all the same.
Strange. I'm not sure what to do with this feeling or, again, how much I'm legally allowed to say let alone morally allowed to mention.
Robin suggested poetry.
Otherwise, I can totally picture doing this job.