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Dispatches

Sept. 5, 2013, Port Severn, Ont. – Our third call of the Labour Day weekend came in around noon on Saturday, and I was extremely happy that it waited until after we’d had our late breakfast.

We had been in the middle of moving fridges when the call came in for a medical in which the ambulance was delayed. As we hopped in the truck and headed to the hall, we went over the directions to the call. It happened to be on a road that required us to head to the most northerly road in our (station’s) response area, and then come back south almost half that distance. All in all, it was almost a 20-minute run just to get there.

Three of us manned the hall in short order (two from my household, and neighbour Gary from down the road), jumped in the rescue and off we went. Since the three of us often run the calls together, we seem to get in the habit of Gary driving, Earl in the passenger seat, and me in the back, as was the case for this call.

Sitting in the jump seats in the back of the rescue requires one to lean forward and look sideways in order to be able to see where you are going. Not that you have to, but I often find that I prefer to see where I’m going as opposed to watching the trees fly by out of the tiny windows well above eye level.

Nonetheless, on the ride to the call, we reviewed the usual details that we normally do . . . directions, patient’s age, patient’s symptoms, and directions again. I slipped on a pair of the blue rubber gloves and contemplated our patient care routine: oxygen, BP cuff, O2 sat monitor, etc.

Did I mention that half of this trip consisted of us travelling down uber-windy-bendy-cottage roads? Not only that, but uber-windy-bendy-almost-lose-your-breakfast-that-you-enjoyed-so-much-an-hour-ago roads?

By the time we got to the call, I had to undo my coveralls because I had broken out in a sweat. I unbuckled myself and walked to the back door of the rescue. I opened the door and stepped down, walking slowly around the truck to get the med bags out of the passenger side cabinet.

Gary came around the side of the truck to give me a hand, and found me leaning with one hand on the truck, one hand on my hip. He laughed and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Rough ride?” he asked, and grabbed one of the med bags. I grabbed the other and followed him into the house.

And no, I didn’t lose my breakfast. I did, however, tell significant-other Earl that I thought it would be a good idea next time if we switched spots when the three of us respond together.

You know, just so we don’t get too comfortable in one spot . . .

Jennifer Mabee is a volunteer with the Township of Georgian Bay Fire Department in Ontario. She began her fire career with the Township of Georgian Bay in 1997 and became the department's fire prevention officer in 2000 and a captain in 2003. She was a fire inspector with the City of Mississauga Fire and Emergency Services before taking time off to focus on family, and is excited to be back at it. E-mail her at jhook0312@yahoo.ca and follow her on Twitter at @jenmabee.