Ridin' the Bus
"The Bus" is a Boston nickname for an ambulance. And that's what my roomie is doing now: riding the bus.
He's been ill for a while, but tonight he hit a crisis point and It Was Time. Deciding to call the Bus is no easy decision unless someone has a 2x4 in their head; you have to weigh guilt that your problem isn't sufficiently severe against reality, and it's never an easy sell. I evaluated him and listened to his opinions, but in the end I didn't think he was quite ready to be the person making the decision. It's better to take the sick person's experience and then decide to call 911 on their behalf than to make them make the decision alone. You have to be proactive, especially when they are stubborn about having others help them.
So I talked to him and told him my honest opinion, and listened to what he said, and told him that for X and Y reasons (symptoms), I was going to call the bus unless he explicitly insisted I not do so. This was especially important to decide for him because he was not entirely lucid, although he insisted he was.
For like the millionth time in my life (but the first time for this roomie, mind you) I got to call 911: I was really good on the phone, I had already everything in order that I needed to know and it was like "blah blah blah" and everything was imparted. I had done every preparation they want you to do (put up pets, get his i.d. and med cards and meds) and even cleared the hallway and outside stairs and gotten a neighbour to go stand out and wave the men down and packed his toothbrush and extra underwear and t-shirt and sweater.
I walked them in like a pro, giving them his name and any information he might skip or is pertinent and then waited patiently until they had assessed, moved him to the Bus & tried to figure out where they'd be taking him.
How many times I have done this, oy. Calm as a cucumber, without a quiver in my belly. This kind of emergency I can handle without any emotional excitement to interfere.
Now is the afterword. Now is when I freak out. When you are assessing health, evaluating and deciding, making that great step of dialing 911, you don't have the luxury of panic or excitement. You have to move like a ninja: no step out of place, silent and fast. Then you fall down in exhaustion and emotional overdrive.
I'm going to go do that now that I've told someone (you) this story: you kind of need to talk to someone about these kinds of experiences, a little after-action debriefing, and frankly it's three and not another soul is awake that I know. Now that I've reviewed what happened I'm going to go lie down and watch cartoons until I fall asleep when I'm not paying attention.
He's been ill for a while, but tonight he hit a crisis point and It Was Time. Deciding to call the Bus is no easy decision unless someone has a 2x4 in their head; you have to weigh guilt that your problem isn't sufficiently severe against reality, and it's never an easy sell. I evaluated him and listened to his opinions, but in the end I didn't think he was quite ready to be the person making the decision. It's better to take the sick person's experience and then decide to call 911 on their behalf than to make them make the decision alone. You have to be proactive, especially when they are stubborn about having others help them.
So I talked to him and told him my honest opinion, and listened to what he said, and told him that for X and Y reasons (symptoms), I was going to call the bus unless he explicitly insisted I not do so. This was especially important to decide for him because he was not entirely lucid, although he insisted he was.
For like the millionth time in my life (but the first time for this roomie, mind you) I got to call 911: I was really good on the phone, I had already everything in order that I needed to know and it was like "blah blah blah" and everything was imparted. I had done every preparation they want you to do (put up pets, get his i.d. and med cards and meds) and even cleared the hallway and outside stairs and gotten a neighbour to go stand out and wave the men down and packed his toothbrush and extra underwear and t-shirt and sweater.
I walked them in like a pro, giving them his name and any information he might skip or is pertinent and then waited patiently until they had assessed, moved him to the Bus & tried to figure out where they'd be taking him.
How many times I have done this, oy. Calm as a cucumber, without a quiver in my belly. This kind of emergency I can handle without any emotional excitement to interfere.
Now is the afterword. Now is when I freak out. When you are assessing health, evaluating and deciding, making that great step of dialing 911, you don't have the luxury of panic or excitement. You have to move like a ninja: no step out of place, silent and fast. Then you fall down in exhaustion and emotional overdrive.
I'm going to go do that now that I've told someone (you) this story: you kind of need to talk to someone about these kinds of experiences, a little after-action debriefing, and frankly it's three and not another soul is awake that I know. Now that I've reviewed what happened I'm going to go lie down and watch cartoons until I fall asleep when I'm not paying attention.
posted by Unknown @ 05:37
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