A woman that has recently moved here from India has been calling 911 lately. The first time it was to get a police officer to come over and change her lightbulbs in the kitchen. She thought it was a necessary emergency because she was reading in that room and could not go into another room to read. Since the building's maintenance guy was not available after hours for some reason, she figured the police was the next best thing.
A week later she calls and says, "Please send an ambulance right away!" When HF was finding out what was the problem, she said, "I touched the hotness! I touched the hotness!" It took a little while, but HF discovered that the "hotness" was the stove top. Based on her story and her cries of pain, he dispatched the paramedics and when they got there, she showed them her finger and they couldn't see anything wrong whatsoever. There was not even any redness. She insisted on an ambulance ride to the ER, and trying to help her out they explained that she didn't need one and what they would do when she got there and how it would cost her all kinds of money, etc. She insisted that they take her in the ambulance. Finally, one of the paramedics told her he had some special burn cream that they would use on her at the ER. It was essentially some Neosporin and a band aid. But it pleased her and they did her a favor by not transporting her.
I have an appreciation for the paramedics. In February of 2006 I got in a car accident with my then 3 year old. Miraculously, we weren't injured at all, but the car was totaled. I remember how amazing the fire fighters and paramedics were with us, especially my daughter. They were so kind, gentle, and knew exactly what to do and how to make my daughter feel safe and happy.
This past July, when I was 6 months pregnant, I fell down the stairs in our home, thanks to a certain 2 year old boy and his toys. I still get the shivers when I think about it. How it looked, how it sounded. I remember the pain. I would consider myself to have a high pain tolerance. I don't like attention, and I don't like drama. As I was lying there crumpled up at the bottom of the stairs, I remember thinking, "Just breathe. The pain will subside in a second. No biggie". But no. It didn't go away and when I tried to walk, I couldn't. I began sweating profusely, and my voice was shaking so bad when I would talk. Even crawling was difficult, but I crawled to my phone and called HF, who was currently at work answering 911 calls, and who was also finishing up an EMT course. When I called him I said, "Hi. I think I broke my ankle." Since I was home alone with the kids, pregnant, and not able to walk, he said that until he could get home and take me to an urgent care clinic, that he would send the paramedics to assess the situation. I did NOT want that to happen at all. I also come from a hillbilly family that did not go to the doctor for ANYTHING (It's a wonder we are all still alive). I think HF sent them for his own comfort mostly. I made him promise me that they would come without lights and sirens. "It's not an emergency! It's just a broken ankle", I said. "We'll just go get it x-rayed when you get home", I said in a shaky voice, wiping sweat from my face. Of course, they came with all the bells and whistles. Even though they didn't really need to come, I was very impressed with how they did everything and how calm and secure they made me feel. Of course, when HF walked in, he knew some of the guys. Then it was a party. "HEY MAN! WHAT'S UP!" They start shooting the breeze, talking about who knows what because they are all BFF's, and I had to remind them that, hello! I was the damsel in distress with the need for medical attention.
Anyway, Hooray for EMTs, paramedics, firefighters, and the like!