Run Sheet
99.09.26
192 Full Arrest
Tonight was one of those calls that stays with you.
Tonight we rolled to a “Full Arrest” call. This means a person is in full cardiac arrest, and the ambulance is delayed, so we get tapped out. Where I am the FD doesn’t automatically roll to all ambulance calls so when we do it’s usually pretty serious.
Usually full arrest calls are for senior citizens, and we work hard for them but almost never get any results. It’s usually futile but we try. This call was unusual in that the patient was 45 years old, and looked to be in relatively good health (other than the fact that he was dead).
Take my word for it, CPR in the field is NOTHING like it is on TV. The patient ALWAYS vomits, he or she is usually wedged in a tiny bathroom, and is in the most awkward position possible, and if the patient is less than 250 lbs. it’s a miracle. In this case we were dealing with all of the above except that he was lighter than 250, but he made up for it by being covered in spew.
We ended up dragging him out of the ensuite bathroom by his feet and starting work on him on the bedroom floor. I was doing compressions, while the rest of the team worked around me. We had to roll him numerous times as he vomited. The smell was incredible. The ambulance arrived while we worked on him and fortunately it was an ALS car (Advanced Life Support) These guys are incredible, they can give all kinds of drugs and do invasive procedures that none of the rest of us are licensed to perform. They got down to work and wonder of wonders we got a heartbeat.
A few minutes later it was gone, so back to work we went, compressions, ventilations, the same cycle over and over. More drugs were administered, shocks were given, heartbeat came back, heartbeat stopped, more compressions, more drugs, more shocks. There is no conversation in times like this, just clipped phrases. It’s not like ER on TV, no one shouts or makes pithy comments. Everything is focused on the patient and procedure. We all know what needs to be done, and what our part is; the hardest thing is to stay out of each other’s way.
We spent a little over an hour in that bedroom with him, brought back his heartbeat eight times. I’ll never forget the smell of burned flesh from the spots where the defibrillator panels were used over and over. The end result was a guy who was still dead.
When it was all over, we packed our gear and stepped out into the hallway. The toughest thing to do in that situation is walk past the sobbing spouse. That’s always hard. This time was no different.
They always look at you with desperate
hope in their eyes. All you can do is wish them well and leave.
~Smoky