(no subject)
So, today, IP and I built a neighborhood.
Well, technically, we helped build one.
We got called to an address in one of the quieter parts of the City for a patient that had fallen. Third-party call, no further information. We rolled up to the address, but ended up walking down a couple of houses to see a group of people waving us over. It should be noted that it's warm today (nearly 70 degrees) so all of the snow is gone and people are outside enjoying the weather. But this group of people is not out just to enjoy weather, they are helping.
Mrs X, one of the elderly neighbors has fallen in the doorway and cannot get up. Because she's sitting in the doorway, all of the people outside walking and sunning and weathering can see her. They called 911, because no one really knows anyone that well, and no one knew what else to do.
IP and I stood her up, popped her into a chair on the porch, and asked the $64 million question: "Would you like us to take you to the hospital?"
She paused, and sighed. "I probably should," she said sadly. "I've been sick lately and if I fall again when no one can see me or help me, I don't know what I'd do. I wonder what my doctor thinks I ought to do."
I produce a cell phone and offer to call the doctor, which gets done.
Neighbors are not drifting off now that the excitement is over. In fact, more are arriving. It's a 'hey, I wonder what's going on here?' scenario. As we wait for the doctor to call us back, a few neighbors creep closer and begin to ask questions about what happened. IP and Mrs X address them, while I go to answer the phone, since the doctor has called us back.
The doctor would prefer that she not go to the hospital. "If she does," the doctor said sadly, "I may never be able to get her out. The hospital will push her into a nursing home, and what she needs is to be as independent and mobile as possible. She just needs some help until she gets over this bug."
We now have a mission: keep Mrs X out of the hospital.
IP explains how the 911 call came about as I tell him what the doctor and I discussed. Apparently, Mrs X fell in the doorway, and one of her neighbors was out running, saw her, and found another neighbor doing yardwork, and asked yardwork-neighbor to call 911. A couple of other neighbors saw the two other neighbors talking, and came over to see what was up. None of them could figure out how to get Mrs X up, so they agreed to stay until the ambulance arrived. More neighbors came, and eventually the number increased to a fairly substantial number. I looked around, evaluating my resources and options, and decided to do what I do best: make things work.
"ALL RIGHT, EVERYONE! LISTEN UP!" I said from the top porch step. "I NEED YOUR HELP!"
Neighbors look eager. This is good. The Tao has not let me wrong on this one. IP eases over to back me up, looking rather like a very tall bodyguard. I suddenly realize that this is going to work.
"Folks, Mrs X is ill. She's got a pretty bad cold, and being sick and being on antibiotics has made her a little weak. So, that's why she fell. Her doctor does not want her in the hospital, because they will try to push her into a nursing home. The best thing for Mrs X is to stay mobile and independent. But since she's got this cold, she needs help. Which is why I need your help."
The neighbors lean forward. Excellent.
"Here's what I need you all to do," I begin to explain, starting to pace like Patton debriefing the troops. "Mrs X lives alone. This is her son, Bob." I point to Bob, who waves nervously. "Bob lives about fifteen minutes away. You all live right here. So, here's the plan..."
If only I had a flipchart.
"Bob is going to call Mrs X every couple of hours. If Mrs X doesn't answer, Bob will come and check on her. During the night, if she needs help, she will call Bob or she will call us. What I need you folks to do is just help keep an eye on her. Wave and say hi, or stop in just to make sure she's all right in between the phone calls. If you don't see her, come and check on her. Is that all right with everyone?"
Murmured nods of assent ruffle the assembly.
Excellent. My plan is working perfectly. "Who lives next door?" The next-door neighbor steps up, and I gather her into my Cunning and Clever Plan. "Okay, here's something I need you to do, if you're willing. Mrs X has a spare house key. IP here is going to hide it somewhere. He's going to tell Mrs X, Bob, and you where it's hidden. That way, if anything happens while her door is locked and, God forbid, us or the Fire Department need to get inside, we can do that without breaking down the door. You can run over and tell us where the key is hidden if you're here. Is that all right?"
The next-door neighbor grins and nods. She is more than willing to help. Fantastic. In fact, the neighbor goes over to Mrs X, and introduces herself. They've never actually met before. Names are exchanged, and I decide to get everyone in on this.
"Do you people actually know each other?"
Obviously, they don't. People are looking around and frowning. They've seen each other in a casual, 'oh, don't you live in the green house halfway down the block?' kind of way. But they do not know each other. I can fix this.
"Well, start saying hello. I'll go first. I'm Nemi, a Paramedic with the City. This is my Filthy Assistant, IP. We don't live in your neighborhood, but we're here to help you. We're both also firefighters. Now, you all try it."
And it's beautiful. People are going around, shaking hands. Rumbles of "I'm Mike" and "I'm Stephanie" and descriptions of who lives in which house are going across the assembly on the front walk. Bess the Dog is recognized, and someone admits to owning Ted the cat (the orange tabby that leaves chipmunks on peoples' porches). The three little red-haired girls belong to Amy and Trip, who live in the white house with the gray shutters. People come up onto the porch to greet Mrs X and Bob. A few come up and introduce themselves to us. They are no longer a collection of strangers living in the same geographical space. They are a community.
Paper is called for, and IP heads for the truck. He returns with a sheaf of blank paper and a hand full of pens. People take the initiative, and a neighbor phone list begins to form. Numbers are exchanged, addresses are noted. IP, Bob, and Next-Door Neighbor, Missy, head off to hide the door key. Someone on the porch notices that the front foyer of Mrs X's house has a lot of stuff in it from where she fell and tried to stand up. Would she mind if they straighten it up for her? She said she didn't mind at all, and three neighbors (and the eldest red-haired girl) get to it. Someone mentions that it's getting close to dinner-time. Another person says it is, and he'd planned to grill because of the lovely weather. Someone else had planned to grill, too. Hey, we live a couple houses down; why don't I grill this, and you grill that, and we'll eat together? I have a big table on the back porch. Oh, a third neighbor has no grill, but has two tables that will seat eight each; why don't we all get together, and non-grill-owning neighbor will provide a salad? Another neighbor has a couple of cases of soda and a couple cases of beer; would that be welcome at dinner? Absolutely. Neighbors begin making dinner plans, and would Mrs X and Bob feel like joining them? Soon, there will be a neighborhood block party at the blue house which is third down on the right (where the big tables are located), the couple from the corner will bring their camping table and some chairs, along with some fresh bread they picked up earlier, some other neighbors will bring lawn chairs and tiki torches, and everyone can bring food. One grill-owning neighbor's grill is mobile; why not just push it a couple of doors down, and they can talk and grill? A capital idea!
IP returns from playing Hide-the-Door-Key, and Bob is shocked when his mother's neighbors invite him to join them for dinner at the block party. He timidly agrees, and asks if his mother feels up to this.
Mrs X, sitting on her chair on the porch, is grinning. She absolutely feels up to this.
As the neighbors begin to shift - some go to move grills, some go to grab things from their kitchens, a bunch begins to wander from house to house collecting chairs and tables, and several remain on the walk chatting about shared professions or hobbies - I kneel down beside Mrs X. "Are you feeling up to this?" I ask her gently, knowing that she has a cold and this could weaken her further.
She looks around at her neighbors, and smiles. "I feel better than I have in years."
I look up and see what she sees: not just random people she nods at when they pass, but a community of neighbors who can say "Good morning!" and shake hands. They now know names, faces, homes, and professions. Their children are playing in the yards, and their families are getting to know one another. Maybe, over time, this new bond will grow and people will become friends. Men are chuckling, women are laughing, and children are having a ball. Bess the dog is made much of, and Ted the cat makes a brief appearance before deciding that Bess the dog and he are not likely to be bosom chums any time soon. A couple of guys come up and offer to help Mrs X over to the house where dinner is being had, and Bob is engaged to come and give his opinion as to whether the grilling neighbors should grill the chicken with lemon or with barbecue sauce.
One of the neighbors asks if IP and I would like to stay for dinner. IP assures them that we'd love to, but we're working. But if we're needed, they may certainly call us. Another neighbor asks if they can call and actually ask for us. We assure them that they may, although we might not be working. I give them the number to the main desk, and our names. IP (who is a better liar than myself) assures them that all of our colleagues are very skilled people who are lovely and good and willing to help. (Hint: that's a lie.) If help is needed, and IP and I are available, we will come. If not, our colleagues are just as lovely as we are. (Hint: that's another lie.) Mrs X stops her progress to hug us both and declare us "lovely young people" and some of the neighbors shake our hands, and we take our leave.
Upon arriving at our next post, Captain Farvo (whom I still do not want to see), arrives to ask us why a simple lift assist took us over an hour. IP and I both realize that explaining it to Captain Farvo is a lost cause. He will not understand why it was important, and he will not realize that sometimes, our job is not about saving lives and stamping out disease. Occasionally, our job is about preventing us having to go out and do the saving-lives-and-stamping-out-disease routine. Because we spent an hour doing this, one block in the City is a little safer, a little more educated, and is a better place. One resident of the City did not have to go to the hospital, and a whole bunch of people are having a pretty good time right about now. This is not something that Captain Farvo understands, so we didn't bother trying.
After EOT, I told LT and Cute-as-a-Button Supervisor what had transpired. Cute-as-a-Button Supervisor grinned and chalked it up to "Nemi's Endlessly Sunny Outlook on Life," my supreme cuteness and the fact that I am ridiculously sweet. LT waited until everyone left the office and hugged me very tightly. As I got hugged, he gave me my kiss-on-the-head and declared that things like that make him so very proud of me. I'm pretty proud of me, too.
The killer moment was when Girl Supervisor came in and said that someone had called in a compliment about IP and I. LT very nearly popped a button due to pride, and Girl Supervisor wrote it up for our jackets. Apparently, having an entire neighborhood call in a compliment is fairly cool. Mrs X's son had done it, at the urging of Mrs X and some of the neighbors. He also asked Girl Supervisor if we could come back after we left work and have dinner. She'd told him that we were out on another call (we were dealing with a 'chest pain' patient who actually had leg and arm pain because he ran out of medication for gout and wanted us to take him to the ER to get more) but that she'd pass along the compliment.
The supervisors played rock-paper-scissors to see who signed the compliment. In the end, Smooth Supervisor and Girl Supervisor signed it, seeing as Cute-as-a-Button Supervisor and LT get to write my yearly reviews. I got more hugs, and I headed home for some much-needed sleep.
Life's good, queridos. Life is damned good.
Originally posted by degeneratelyre on March 7th, 2009, here
Edited to Add: Since I posted this, degeneratelyre has locked the entry back to Friends Only for job-related reasons. Comments will be allowed on this post by request.
Well, technically, we helped build one.
We got called to an address in one of the quieter parts of the City for a patient that had fallen. Third-party call, no further information. We rolled up to the address, but ended up walking down a couple of houses to see a group of people waving us over. It should be noted that it's warm today (nearly 70 degrees) so all of the snow is gone and people are outside enjoying the weather. But this group of people is not out just to enjoy weather, they are helping.
Mrs X, one of the elderly neighbors has fallen in the doorway and cannot get up. Because she's sitting in the doorway, all of the people outside walking and sunning and weathering can see her. They called 911, because no one really knows anyone that well, and no one knew what else to do.
IP and I stood her up, popped her into a chair on the porch, and asked the $64 million question: "Would you like us to take you to the hospital?"
She paused, and sighed. "I probably should," she said sadly. "I've been sick lately and if I fall again when no one can see me or help me, I don't know what I'd do. I wonder what my doctor thinks I ought to do."
I produce a cell phone and offer to call the doctor, which gets done.
Neighbors are not drifting off now that the excitement is over. In fact, more are arriving. It's a 'hey, I wonder what's going on here?' scenario. As we wait for the doctor to call us back, a few neighbors creep closer and begin to ask questions about what happened. IP and Mrs X address them, while I go to answer the phone, since the doctor has called us back.
The doctor would prefer that she not go to the hospital. "If she does," the doctor said sadly, "I may never be able to get her out. The hospital will push her into a nursing home, and what she needs is to be as independent and mobile as possible. She just needs some help until she gets over this bug."
We now have a mission: keep Mrs X out of the hospital.
IP explains how the 911 call came about as I tell him what the doctor and I discussed. Apparently, Mrs X fell in the doorway, and one of her neighbors was out running, saw her, and found another neighbor doing yardwork, and asked yardwork-neighbor to call 911. A couple of other neighbors saw the two other neighbors talking, and came over to see what was up. None of them could figure out how to get Mrs X up, so they agreed to stay until the ambulance arrived. More neighbors came, and eventually the number increased to a fairly substantial number. I looked around, evaluating my resources and options, and decided to do what I do best: make things work.
"ALL RIGHT, EVERYONE! LISTEN UP!" I said from the top porch step. "I NEED YOUR HELP!"
Neighbors look eager. This is good. The Tao has not let me wrong on this one. IP eases over to back me up, looking rather like a very tall bodyguard. I suddenly realize that this is going to work.
"Folks, Mrs X is ill. She's got a pretty bad cold, and being sick and being on antibiotics has made her a little weak. So, that's why she fell. Her doctor does not want her in the hospital, because they will try to push her into a nursing home. The best thing for Mrs X is to stay mobile and independent. But since she's got this cold, she needs help. Which is why I need your help."
The neighbors lean forward. Excellent.
"Here's what I need you all to do," I begin to explain, starting to pace like Patton debriefing the troops. "Mrs X lives alone. This is her son, Bob." I point to Bob, who waves nervously. "Bob lives about fifteen minutes away. You all live right here. So, here's the plan..."
If only I had a flipchart.
"Bob is going to call Mrs X every couple of hours. If Mrs X doesn't answer, Bob will come and check on her. During the night, if she needs help, she will call Bob or she will call us. What I need you folks to do is just help keep an eye on her. Wave and say hi, or stop in just to make sure she's all right in between the phone calls. If you don't see her, come and check on her. Is that all right with everyone?"
Murmured nods of assent ruffle the assembly.
Excellent. My plan is working perfectly. "Who lives next door?" The next-door neighbor steps up, and I gather her into my Cunning and Clever Plan. "Okay, here's something I need you to do, if you're willing. Mrs X has a spare house key. IP here is going to hide it somewhere. He's going to tell Mrs X, Bob, and you where it's hidden. That way, if anything happens while her door is locked and, God forbid, us or the Fire Department need to get inside, we can do that without breaking down the door. You can run over and tell us where the key is hidden if you're here. Is that all right?"
The next-door neighbor grins and nods. She is more than willing to help. Fantastic. In fact, the neighbor goes over to Mrs X, and introduces herself. They've never actually met before. Names are exchanged, and I decide to get everyone in on this.
"Do you people actually know each other?"
Obviously, they don't. People are looking around and frowning. They've seen each other in a casual, 'oh, don't you live in the green house halfway down the block?' kind of way. But they do not know each other. I can fix this.
"Well, start saying hello. I'll go first. I'm Nemi, a Paramedic with the City. This is my Filthy Assistant, IP. We don't live in your neighborhood, but we're here to help you. We're both also firefighters. Now, you all try it."
And it's beautiful. People are going around, shaking hands. Rumbles of "I'm Mike" and "I'm Stephanie" and descriptions of who lives in which house are going across the assembly on the front walk. Bess the Dog is recognized, and someone admits to owning Ted the cat (the orange tabby that leaves chipmunks on peoples' porches). The three little red-haired girls belong to Amy and Trip, who live in the white house with the gray shutters. People come up onto the porch to greet Mrs X and Bob. A few come up and introduce themselves to us. They are no longer a collection of strangers living in the same geographical space. They are a community.
Paper is called for, and IP heads for the truck. He returns with a sheaf of blank paper and a hand full of pens. People take the initiative, and a neighbor phone list begins to form. Numbers are exchanged, addresses are noted. IP, Bob, and Next-Door Neighbor, Missy, head off to hide the door key. Someone on the porch notices that the front foyer of Mrs X's house has a lot of stuff in it from where she fell and tried to stand up. Would she mind if they straighten it up for her? She said she didn't mind at all, and three neighbors (and the eldest red-haired girl) get to it. Someone mentions that it's getting close to dinner-time. Another person says it is, and he'd planned to grill because of the lovely weather. Someone else had planned to grill, too. Hey, we live a couple houses down; why don't I grill this, and you grill that, and we'll eat together? I have a big table on the back porch. Oh, a third neighbor has no grill, but has two tables that will seat eight each; why don't we all get together, and non-grill-owning neighbor will provide a salad? Another neighbor has a couple of cases of soda and a couple cases of beer; would that be welcome at dinner? Absolutely. Neighbors begin making dinner plans, and would Mrs X and Bob feel like joining them? Soon, there will be a neighborhood block party at the blue house which is third down on the right (where the big tables are located), the couple from the corner will bring their camping table and some chairs, along with some fresh bread they picked up earlier, some other neighbors will bring lawn chairs and tiki torches, and everyone can bring food. One grill-owning neighbor's grill is mobile; why not just push it a couple of doors down, and they can talk and grill? A capital idea!
IP returns from playing Hide-the-Door-Key, and Bob is shocked when his mother's neighbors invite him to join them for dinner at the block party. He timidly agrees, and asks if his mother feels up to this.
Mrs X, sitting on her chair on the porch, is grinning. She absolutely feels up to this.
As the neighbors begin to shift - some go to move grills, some go to grab things from their kitchens, a bunch begins to wander from house to house collecting chairs and tables, and several remain on the walk chatting about shared professions or hobbies - I kneel down beside Mrs X. "Are you feeling up to this?" I ask her gently, knowing that she has a cold and this could weaken her further.
She looks around at her neighbors, and smiles. "I feel better than I have in years."
I look up and see what she sees: not just random people she nods at when they pass, but a community of neighbors who can say "Good morning!" and shake hands. They now know names, faces, homes, and professions. Their children are playing in the yards, and their families are getting to know one another. Maybe, over time, this new bond will grow and people will become friends. Men are chuckling, women are laughing, and children are having a ball. Bess the dog is made much of, and Ted the cat makes a brief appearance before deciding that Bess the dog and he are not likely to be bosom chums any time soon. A couple of guys come up and offer to help Mrs X over to the house where dinner is being had, and Bob is engaged to come and give his opinion as to whether the grilling neighbors should grill the chicken with lemon or with barbecue sauce.
One of the neighbors asks if IP and I would like to stay for dinner. IP assures them that we'd love to, but we're working. But if we're needed, they may certainly call us. Another neighbor asks if they can call and actually ask for us. We assure them that they may, although we might not be working. I give them the number to the main desk, and our names. IP (who is a better liar than myself) assures them that all of our colleagues are very skilled people who are lovely and good and willing to help. (Hint: that's a lie.) If help is needed, and IP and I are available, we will come. If not, our colleagues are just as lovely as we are. (Hint: that's another lie.) Mrs X stops her progress to hug us both and declare us "lovely young people" and some of the neighbors shake our hands, and we take our leave.
Upon arriving at our next post, Captain Farvo (whom I still do not want to see), arrives to ask us why a simple lift assist took us over an hour. IP and I both realize that explaining it to Captain Farvo is a lost cause. He will not understand why it was important, and he will not realize that sometimes, our job is not about saving lives and stamping out disease. Occasionally, our job is about preventing us having to go out and do the saving-lives-and-stamping-out-disease routine. Because we spent an hour doing this, one block in the City is a little safer, a little more educated, and is a better place. One resident of the City did not have to go to the hospital, and a whole bunch of people are having a pretty good time right about now. This is not something that Captain Farvo understands, so we didn't bother trying.
After EOT, I told LT and Cute-as-a-Button Supervisor what had transpired. Cute-as-a-Button Supervisor grinned and chalked it up to "Nemi's Endlessly Sunny Outlook on Life," my supreme cuteness and the fact that I am ridiculously sweet. LT waited until everyone left the office and hugged me very tightly. As I got hugged, he gave me my kiss-on-the-head and declared that things like that make him so very proud of me. I'm pretty proud of me, too.
The killer moment was when Girl Supervisor came in and said that someone had called in a compliment about IP and I. LT very nearly popped a button due to pride, and Girl Supervisor wrote it up for our jackets. Apparently, having an entire neighborhood call in a compliment is fairly cool. Mrs X's son had done it, at the urging of Mrs X and some of the neighbors. He also asked Girl Supervisor if we could come back after we left work and have dinner. She'd told him that we were out on another call (we were dealing with a 'chest pain' patient who actually had leg and arm pain because he ran out of medication for gout and wanted us to take him to the ER to get more) but that she'd pass along the compliment.
The supervisors played rock-paper-scissors to see who signed the compliment. In the end, Smooth Supervisor and Girl Supervisor signed it, seeing as Cute-as-a-Button Supervisor and LT get to write my yearly reviews. I got more hugs, and I headed home for some much-needed sleep.
Life's good, queridos. Life is damned good.
Originally posted by degeneratelyre on March 7th, 2009, here
Edited to Add: Since I posted this, degeneratelyre has locked the entry back to Friends Only for job-related reasons. Comments will be allowed on this post by request.