RECOVERING GRADY ADDICT

Just last week, Hunny and I were discussing our early experiences in EMS. I had shared my experiences with my first "tote" job. Crazy Family Drama EMS. The company is known in the Metro-Atlanta EMS community for their surprising longevity, and the fact that they had had some of the worst contracts ever. Most local "old-heads" got their start there. I guess I fall into that category. The current opinion is if you survived 5+ years at Grady EMS these days you've earned your "old head" badge. When I worked for CFD EMS, their primary money maker contract was with Grady Hospital, to take home all discharges off the floor that were true "bed-bound" stretcher patients: paraplegics, quadriplegics, contractured stroke survivors, amputees, etc. They also did ALL the ER discharges. Sure, there were the true bed-bound patients. But you also did a fair share of providing taxi service for lazy healthy and/or youthful adults... ambulatory folks who refused

NEW JOB - Grady Jr. EMS I spent Monday (12-10-07) through Friday (12-14-07) doing the typical classroom orientation stuff. How GJ-EMS got it's start, how it's grown, benefits, training and CEU programs *a lot of CEU's ONLINE - yippie *, Toughbook's and touchpoint PCR software, road safety / CEVO , HIPPA , etc.I was definitely impressed with their "employees are our most valuable asset" concept: meaning that if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. They eat it, breathe it, sleep it, poop it, and maybe even brand it on your ass when you get released from orientation. But it's true. Basically they believe that if they meet (actually, most often exceed) the expectations of how the employees want to be treated, perks, nice equipment , comprehensive training, new (and actually functioning ) technology, etc... that we will be more productive, nicer to colleagues , patients, and the public, less likely to burnout, less likely to climb a tower in Smyrn

My day, yesterday I awoke at the usual 5:30am to get dressed and ready for my almost two hour rush-hour commute to Alpharetta. Upon arriving at work at 7:59, my partner was yet in the office, so I set myself busy to ready us for the day ahead. Mike, co-owner and C.O.O. of the company (of 5 full time employees) calls me into his office. I will simply sumarize my feelings as this: My intolerance for incompetance, drama, bullshit, unsafe work conditions, and unreliable paychecks, along with my feelings that the newbie EMT's skills should be nurtured and honed, and demand for partners who actually bathe regularly - did not set well with management. I was branded as a boat rocker, and trouble maker with a bad attitude. While all my EMT partners told me just how much they liked working with me, learned things from me, and agreed with my views on company operations, management told me repeatedly over the last week just how much no one wants to work with me. So either management's view

Lenya is working tonight (at Grady) with a reputable Class Ten Shit Magnet named Shawn Moore. Shawn is the kind of Shit Magnet who has two cardiac arrests back to back followed by a couple of critical traumas, ending the night with a decompensating CHF'er that gets intubated. That's his daily norm. Always has been. Tonight beats all I have ever heard. Sumdood strikes again!!! Shawn was mugged outside the CNN center by a crackhead. For his radio. Not an I-Pod or other portable entertainment device. His DISPATCH RADIO. It wasn't long before the thief was talking in Spanglish over the dispatch frequency. APD, EMS, and Park Police followed the sounds of the radio communications, and said crackhead was found by Lenya and the shift supervisor hanging out near the bushes over in Centinnial Olympic Park where he was tackled and subdued, and held at MagLight point until poe-poe could put him in handcuffs. His story: Shawn "sold" him the radio. Uh-huh. Sure. Sumdood seems t

I had a late arrival home last night. 11:30 give or take a few minutes. As usual, I backed my crappy Kia into the space designated to my townhouse with a faded #13 painted on the asphalt. My eyesore of a car, currently missing the left rear door window (temporarily patched by an industrial sized black garbage bag), shared a single space with Lucy. Lord knows I have had enough pissy ass neighbors bitching about my household owning three vehicles and where we park them. Lucy was all snug in her parking place last night when I arrived home. Who is Lucy? Lucy was my 2005 Honda Shadow Aero 750 motorcycle. She was practically the one remaining material thing from my 4+ year relationship with Candice. A nice stretched frammed classic styled fat fendered cruiser, painted brugundy, with a suprisingly appealing factory chrome package. Lucy saw me through a nasty divorce, an even more ugly rebound, and all the follies associated with Jordan. She has carried me on the 2005 Trail of Tears ride, and

My Aunt Shirley is pushing mmm I'd say 65-66 years old. She won't actually admit to me just how much older she is to my dad - who is 62 this year. Bless her heart, she gets on AOL and sends e-mails, forwards jokes, and occasionally has been known to IM. Not bad for a lady her age with no formal education. I am honestly impressed with her eagerness to keep up with friends and family by way of ye ole internet. So I sent her the links to my blog here, honestly because she has been digging at why I no longer work at Grady. Last night when I read my e-mail I got this touching reply: "What a wonderful touching e-mail about 9=11 (she addresses me by my family nickname that I will NOT share with you schmoes) you have a wonderful way of writing have you found a job? Im sure what ever you did at Grady it was good Im sure you got tired of all the people who used the hospital for a doctor office instead of going to the dr.But the job you are trained for is important I wish we had got

Alternate Title: Straw... Meet Camel! 23:05 Dispatch: "7262 prepair to copy." Former Grady Medic: "262 go ahead" Mouthy Renegade Partner: "Fuck Me! We get off in ten fuckin minutes!" Dispatch: "Respond to blah blah blah Peachtree Street, Hyatt Regency, Difficulty Breathing. Stand by..... Text advises your subject will be across the street, at the liquor store. Be advised your 78 will be a black male, wearing all blue, and a straw hat." MRP: "Oh great. Some drunk-ass rooter at the liquor store. Bet he wants to go to Piedmont to sober up and have a place to sleep it off." FGM: "We'll see if he'll go to Grady. Just grab and go. Me and (Starry-Eyed Intern) will treat 'em on the way in." (pulling up to liquor store opposite to the Hyatt) MRP: "I don't see 'em" FGM: "Leave the lights goin so he can see us." *Just incase he is deaf and couldn't hear all the sirens blaring* Starry-Eyed Inter

We awoke early, newlyweds, frantically packing our bags at the beach house. Just three days earlier Candice and I had shared our vows in our commitment ceremony in North Litchfield SC. The air was crisp, and the sun was up already. The tons of things to do was my motivation. We had planned on going home via detour to Savannah. I never bothered to turn on the TV, since there was no cable TV we never really bothered to watch much TV that week anyway. Our bags were packed, the car was loaded, and off we went. It didn't take too long of driving down the highway to notice things were strangely different. Cars were pulled off on the shoulder and drivers were staring blankly through their windshields. Large groups of people stood together talking in front of businesses along the way. I pulled into a CVS drugstore to buy a cheap road atlas so we could navigate scenic roads to Savannah. Candice and Mike stayed in the car chatting nonsensically like brothers and sisters do. Once inside I cou