Stories from Big Red: Episode 1

Margaret Stewart
Aug 26, 2017 · 4 min read

I’m a firefighter in the Los Angeles area and we see it all. The heartbreaking, infuriating, miraculous, hilarious and touching — all in one shift. In Stories from Big Red, I will share these experiences with you.

Episode 1: Hollyweird

“He’s sitting on my tailgate” said the freeway worker, pointing over to a pickup with flashing orange lights. It was o’dark-thirty but the freeway lights revealed my patient, a good looking young man in his late 20’s with a look of absolute terror on his face. His eyes focused in on me and he sprang to life, practically running me down as his arms whipped about, pointing to...everywhere. Working hard to understand his gibberish, I started my patient assessment. Breathing? Check. Obvious trauma, bleeding? No. He was covered with small abrasions and I didn’t even have to remove his shirt to check. His long sleeve, blue button up was in tatters. Any signs of neurological deficits? No, he’s moving all limbs, very fast. Alert and oriented? Well, that’s a bit harder. He’s alert but oriented? I couldn’t make any sense of what he was trying to tell me but my training concluded ETOH (ethyl alcohol — the term we use in the field to indicate an inebriated patient) and not trauma.

I was able to deduce he spent the evening at Universal City and left with friends. But, where are those friends now? Why is he practically shirtless, definitely shoeless, pants torn, nicks and scrapes, on the side of the 101 Freeway? My ability to determine his potential injuries is critical to ensuring he gets the appropriate immediate medical treatment. Serious injuries aren’t always visible so we may use the mechanism of injury as a method of determining our course of treatment.

But how in the world did this young man end up in this predicament? I turned to the freeway worker for some insight.

“He was on the side of the freeway and came running up to our truck. I have no idea what happened, I just called 9–1–1”

Ok, that’s super helpful. I work on calming my patient, getting him into the back of the ambulance and getting his name, Paul*.

“Paul, can you slow down and explain what happened to you?”, I try again.

I can’t even begin to translate what he said, I’m not that skilled of a writer. Suffice to say, it wasn’t super helpful either.

I notice blue flashing lights joining the night sky and I see a Highway Patrol Officer approaching.

“His friends are over here, do you want to talk to them”, the Officer states pointing over his shoulder.

“Good lord, yes!”

I slide out the back door as my partner continues getting Paul’s vital signs.

Now I’m looking at three more 20-somethings dressed in the manner I’m assuming Paul did when he left his house hours ago. Shirts, un-torn. Shoes, laced up. Pants, not covered in dirt and leaves. Yet their faces, the same look of terror.

“Is he OK?” from red shirt.

“Where is he”, green shirt.

“Oh my god, we thought he was dead!”, checkered shirt or is that paisley? I’m distracted as I glance past them and see an open-top Jeep.

Realization is dawning.

“Ok, everyone take a deep breath. Paul is in the ambulance and appears not to have any serious injuries. You (red shirt), please tell me exactly what happened. How did you lose Paul”

And the story unfolds.

Paul and his well-dressed friends had a blow-out night in Universal City (that part I figured out on my own) and headed home on the Northbound 101 Freeway.

Hmmm, this isn’t good as we are now on the Southbound side.

Green shirt may have taken the onramp a little too fast because as they negotiated the curve, centrifugal force came into play. Paul’s 180 pound, less-than-optimally agile body (remember the ETOH), seatbelt-less body was no match. He went tumbling out the Jeep and BOUNCED down the on ramp.

Bounced, that was their word.

They were now committed to the freeway and by the time they got off and circled back, their drinking buddy was no where to be found. They kept driving around and when they saw our flashing lights, beelined it over.

Paul fell out of an accelerating vehicle, bounced (a few times is implied?) over at least 50 yards and then proceeded to make his way across 8 lanes of traffic (and a center divider) on a LA freeway?

Frogger, anyone?

“Dispatch, this is RA999*, we need an ALS ambulance, emergency”, I spoke into the radio as his friends rambled on.

Mechanism of injury — I mentioned that earlier. When the WAY a person is injured meets certain criteria, we must provide a higher level of care (Advanced Life Saving) because of the greater potential for critical injuries we can’t see in the field.

Now I get why Paul is freaked out, I totally get it. I’m a little freaked out too. How in the world did he survive all that — without obvious trauma?

I worked on calming Paul and keeping him still for the few minutes it took for the paramedic ambulance to arrive. I briefed the paramedic on the situation, a couple times. Because, well, it’s pretty unbelievable.

Or is it? After all, it is Hollyweird.

*Fictitious name/unit identifier

Note: After a thorough exam at the local ER, Paul was given a clean bill of health, a shirt to wear home and a clear directive to wear his seat belt.

)

Margaret Stewart

Written by

Exploring, experiencing and enjoying the things that help me to Live Inspired

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