In the winter of 2020, right about the time the Corona virus appeared, I reconnected with a couple of friends from high school. Not only were we school mates but we had all been in the same garage band and were close back then. I hadn’t spoken to either in nearly fifty years but now we talk regularly. Late in the fall of 2020, one of them sent an email asking what it was like working through the pandemic on the fire department. Neither of these two had any public safety experience. What appears below was my response to both of them. It is in effect, a snapshot of a day in the life in the COVID lane.

I work in a relatively slow (call volume wise) system. Still we are busier than before. We don’t transport patients; a neighboring ambulance service does it for us as they do for several surrounding towns. We respond and arrive first, initiate patient stabilization and care and then the ambulance comes. This is the classic “tiered response” model used throughout the country in rural areas where little towns cannot afford their own ambulance. For many years I trained this ambulance service, I know most of the crews well. Recently, on one of the calls I had an interesting interaction with one of my friends who is a paramedic with this service. He is smart, tough and compassionate and has done this nearly as long as I have. He is an excellent medic and a good person. We greeted each other with a fist bump as we often do, and while his partner was assessing the patient I asked how he was doing. I’m exhausted he told me, he said it wasn’t supposed to be like this. “We’re as busy as when I worked in city, you know what I mean, you worked Manchester. This is the boonies, it should be much quieter”. He went on “and now every patient is a potential life threat, from an unseen enemy… half the time the patients don’t even know they have it. It’s freakin’ nerve racking”. Then he pointed to his fogged up goggles, laughed and said “like my new fog proof goggles?” We smiled at each other with our eyes (it can be done, in this business you learn to perfect it) and I reached out with my hand… he took it and we squeezed each other’s hand firmly for several seconds, the equivalent of an embrace in the time of COVID. He said thanks and we got back to work. It was a heartfelt and powerful moment that stayed with me for days. 

Earlier in the day we had a call for a 300lb out of control patient with a traumatic brain injury. He was having a seizure, had fallen and was covered with blood and vomit. He was combative (not his fault) and it took several of us to wrestle him on to the stretcher… yuck! Welcome to EMS. The ambulance crew (two people) wanted to ride in the back together to help control this big guy. They asked me if I could get them a driver. One of our firefighters volunteered, even though it would add another hour plus to his time on the call… this is what we do. 

We also had a call a few weeks ago for an unresponsive man in a locked car. I was the first to arrive and encountered a man without a mask on who had found him and called it in. I asked him a couple quick questions from a few feet away (I hadn’t masked up yet) and he kept moving closer and closer to me. I asked him nicely to please maintain social distance and he went off on me. “What the f*#k? That’s bullshit, I don’t need to do that!” Then I blew up at him, stuck my finger in his face and said “listen, I do this for a living and you don’t. I know things you obviously do not. I don’t mind helping people, but I’m trying to stay healthy and alive. Show some respect and back off!” He threw his hands up and grumbled “WTF” and walked away. It’s not the first time we’ve been yelled at or threatened; it just comes with the job. 

And speaking of the masking thing; I find myself deeply saddened by so much of what I see. The unwillingness of some to be socially responsible and instead rally around their perceived sense of constitutional right to do as they choose; is disheartening. When “my personal rights” are more important than being responsible and protecting others… we all have a problem. When I see such behavior overwhelming and exhausting healthcare workers, that in particular makes me angry. My youngest daughter is an emergency room nurse in a very busy hospital in Boston. She is completely exhausted and I’m sending her fresh clean PPE because the hospital doesn’t have enough to go around. There are a lot of folks like me who came out of retirement because we had the experience and the knowledge (to the extent that anybody does) to deal with something like this. But there are real and consequential risks. Some of us have made the ultimate sacrifice. To be yelled at and hassled by selfish ignorant people who have been taken in by the politicization of a very real public health crisis… is very hard to take. We have been threatened as well. Assaults on healthcare workers, particularly in the prehospital setting are on the rise. I think I told you in an earlier email that some of us carry firearms. I have not carried on the job since I was in law enforcement… not until this year that is. 

So, everything is harder now. The risk is much higher. Almost anyone could be shedding the virus. PPE sucks and is hard to work in. You sweat and itch, you can’t see properly and you don’t dare touch your face. If your cell rings in your pocket… it stays there. Many of us have rashes on our faces and behind our ears from the masks and straps. The 911 operators ask questions and try to screen every patient and let us know their concerns… it’s only good to a point. If you’re smart, you put your PPE on carefully (no leaks or exposure) and remove it (when it is possibly contaminated) even more carefully. We spray and wait and then remove the next layer. There are days when I feel like if the virus doesn’t get us, the sanitizing agents probably will. Sometimes it takes longer to decon our equipment and ourselves than to do the call. I’m sick of it and so is everybody else.