So, TINS©, TIWFDASL© in Da City. So, in the course of EMS in, really, any city, you occasionally encounter folks who fail to realize just how wonderful you and your partner truly are. Some of these folks, at a loss for words to articulate their world view, act out. Indeed, from time to time they seek to act out upon members of the uniformed city services, which is why cops have sidearms, firefighters travel in groups of 5 or more, and medics….well, we generally rely on good fortune. And the antipathy police officers most everywhere demonstrate, kinetically, upon those folks who lay hands on medics.
So, having taken note of the above cited occasional dilemma of the tactical variety, The Powers That Be in Da City administration, had established a radio code, to indicate that the crew employing it, was either in trouble, RIGHT NOW!, or anticipated things to get sporty, REALLY FREAKING SOON!. Since we were, by department rule, forbidden arms, we relied upon our friends at TBCPD to extract our bacon from the fire, when the occasion demanded it. In return, we paid very, very close attention to the calls of “officer (insert injury here)”. While nominally all our responses were “Code 1” (red lights and siren), there were varieties of “Code 1”. For instance, there was a “Code 1” response to the call, “man has cough, for two weeks”, and there was the “code 1” response to “Officer shot”. For only one of these, would the ambulance require brake replacement after the call, and other motorists wonder what was that orange streak that had passed them by at “Warp 8”.
Generally, EMS Dispatch was on the ball. They kept track of where you were, how long you had been there, and, if you had not cleared the scene after a suitable interval, they would radio you and check that you were alright. On (thankfully!) rare occasions, they were not. Whether this was to be laid at the feet of dispatch, or the elderly radio system we employed, is not clear.
So, this one time, several crews were hanging out at TBTCIDC, telling tall tales, conversing, and generally waiting for dispatch to decide that it was Our Time To Save Lives. Our handie talkies were on, because dispatch might NOT assume we were still hanging out at TBTCIDC. Our radios, at that time, were open, meaning that any traffic on the frequency was heard on our HT. Therefore, when Medic 6 called “Medic in Trouble”, well, the room went silent. We waited for Dispatch to respond, and heard nothing. One guy phoned dispatch, asking “Did you hear Medic Six call that they were in trouble?”
When answered negatively, he said, “Well, they just did so. What is the address of their scene?” Writing it down, he hung up. “Hey, partner! Wanna take a little drive?”
“Sure. Where to?”
“Medic Six’s scene.”
Abruptly, four ambulances called on the air from TBTCIDC. We sped over to Six’s scene, and (thankfully) beheld the crew strolling out of the house there. And, no police.
“You guys alright?”, one of us asked.
“Yeah, but it go a little tense there, for a minute!”
Everybody drove away, and the rest of that shift passed, without making any more memories.
Thank Ghawd!
Musings of A Stretcher Ape 