I heard a siren as I walked out of the hospital.
I turned my head and looked and saw an ambulance drive by with strobes flashing and reflecting off the surrounding buildings. I listened to the siren as they drove by. Instantly I had emotions and thoughts welling up inside of me. In that moment the sound was a “siren’s” call to my past.
I was brought back to being 19 years old and working in EMS. Life goes by fast. I have lived more of my life on this side of the lights and sirens than before or during them. Inside of me however it doesn’t seem so long ago. My emotions pulled me back.
As I continued to walk outside the hospital to my car I was transported back in time. I paused to soak up the sensations again. I could still recall the feel of the seat in the front of the ambulance. I remember the heavy microphone attached to the Motorola police radio. I remember the adrenaline. The lights would flash off the windows of the buildings, the homes, and the cars that we passed. Our siren would blare out a warning – or perhaps it felt more like a “look at me!” To a somewhat shy and traditionally introverted young man, the ambulance was an alter ego, demanding attention from everyone as we boldly marched our way through town and down the roads to the place where we were called.
The microphone felt heavy and solid in my hand. “11 from 11-51, we are enroute,” I would say to the dispatcher. I would push down the adrenaline and try to suppress the beating of my heart. I was a professional I would remind myself. I would focus on what we needed to do and how to do it. I was young. Everything seemed so new. Nothing was routine for me. I had techniques and practices that I had been taught and learned but all of it seemed just a bit crisp and new, like the creases of the uniform that I was so proud to wear.
Pulling up I would force myself to look and survey the scene. It was important to not get “tunnel vision.” I needed to try to assess what was going on, taking it all in, before focusing on our patient or patients.
“11, 11-51 is 10-23.” That was the call that we had arrived on the scene.
We would get out and walk to the side doors of the ambulance to get our equipment. One of us would grab our Plano fishing box that contained our medical equipment. At least at that time, the standard was this fishing box with multiple drawers and areas to neatly contain bandages and any equipment we might need. The other one of us would take the portable oxygen tank.
One of us would go directly to the patient and begin focusing on them. I would look directly in their eyes. Their eyes could tell so much information about how they were doing. From there was a rapid primary survey. ABCs: Airway Breathing and Circulation. Next there was a secondary survey to identify any obvious issues that might need to be addressed. Despite the adrenaline rush inside of me, I would talk calmly to them, hoping to emulate the examples of my mentors. I hoped that my calm demeaner would calm the patient and their family and help them through this crisis.
Other times I would take the secondary role. In that role I would seek to gather whatever helpful information I could get. That might mean talking to others on the scene as to what was going on or what the problem was. Sometimes it meant getting the prescription bottles together to bring to the Emergency Department. It would inevitably involve planning how we were going to move and transport our patient. Lessons learned from the past would play in my head as I looked at narrow doorways or staircases and tricks to navigate them.
“Always lift with your palms down,” was an early lesson. It was not intuitive. Newbies would want to grab and lift the stretcher the other way – like you were doing an arm curl with a patient. With the palms down it is amazing how much two can lift into the back of the ambulance. Once the patient was inside, I would jump into the back and sit on the bench beside my patient. I would pull out the blood pressure cuff again and blow it up to get another set of vital signs. As I did so I would think about the HERN (Hospital Emergency Radio Network) call that I would need to make to the hospital emergency room. I knew that my voice would be on a speaker playing out loud at the nurse’s station. It was important to figure out what I was going to say before I started speaking. Once more I pushed myself to assume the role of a professional.
When we arrived, we would deliver our patient and hand them over the to the ER nurses and physician. This was followed by the ritual of cleaning the gurney and putting fresh sheets on it to be ready for the next call. As we did so the adrenaline would start draining down into a giddy sort of post-call high. I didn’t smoke but would often go out back with my partner for the day and we would stand and talk. It didn’t matter what we said, it was just good to be a part of a team.
It was so long ago and yet in an instant the sound of a siren pulled me back. I felt it and experienced it all over again. I once again knew what it was like to be young and what life felt like when everything was exciting and new. It was nice and I wanted to linger in that sensation for a little while.
A few years ago, I saw a 92-year-old patient in the hospital. When I had finished my usual medical questions and exam I paused for a minute and asked them, “How old do you really think you are?” I clarified the question, “I know that you know the number of years but if you just sit back and ignore the numbers, how old do you think of yourself being?” My patient understood and smiled, “That is an interesting question. Well, I know I am not young, but I am not that old either. I suppose I am about 70.”
There is a strange thing about time. The years seem to click by so quickly that inside most of us don’t think of ourselves as being as old as the calendar might indicate. My 92-year-old patient was healthier than most and I think part of it was because of that mindset. “Act your age,” may be appropriate in certain contexts, but often it is okay to indulge in thinking and feeling younger than your years.
The siren called to me today. It said, “You are young. Life is exciting. There are so many things to see and do and learn!” In mythology the siren’s call would pull the sailors away from reality and lure them to their doom. But this siren’s call is not bad, I think, if we like Odysseus take the proper precautions. It depends on how we use these memories. The memories can pull you into feeling sorry for yourself and only looking at what is behind you (that is the siren’s call of danger.) But it can be a good thing to really remember and to feel what it was like to be young including the thrill, excitement, and joy of it all.
Part of it is a philosophy of life that looks forward rather than back. It is a desire to live and experience what is ahead of us in life. It recognizes that there are always new things ahead to experience and to live.
I had to learn about how to ride a roller coaster. When I was young, I was afraid of roller coasters. I would go on them to make my family or friends happy but as I did so I would close my eyes and just endure them. That was exactly the wrong thing to do. I later learned to keep my eyes open. I often pretend that I am in control and flying the roller coaster. The feeling is exhilarating.
It is the choice to experience the adventure of life rather than have life just happen to you. This attitude makes all the difference in the world (like looking forward to each dip and turn rather than being jolted and jerked by them.) Sometimes we need to reach in our minds to remember what it felt like to be young and looking forward to what comes next in life, rather than just looking back at what has already happened.
Life should be exciting. There are so many new things yet to see and do and experience. What is the next new adventure for us? At the moment it is packing up a house and building another as we downsize. It feels scary and overwhelming at times. Sometimes I want to shrink into the old and familiar. But life is an adventure. There is still so much to see and do and experience. I should want to be front and center. I should not be afraid to click on the siren and the flashing lights and head into the next new adventure.
The deep tones alarm from my police radio alerting us to our next call. “11 from 11-51, we are in route.
