Pat Ivey - EMT Rescue

Pat Ivey

EMT: BEYOND THE LIGHTS AND SIRENS was dedicated to my children, David, Matt and Jennifer, for bringing light and joy to my life.

EMT: RESCUE is dedicated to my parents, Edna and Al Follmar, for teaching me that love was meant to be shared.

And to the memory of Mary Kay Mayo

1980-1992

I was a stranger, and ye took me in:

Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me:

I was in prison, and ye came unto me.

Matthew 25: 35-36

LAKE OF THE WOODS VOLUNTEER RESCUE SQUAD 1993

Purvis Beanum

Mike Beery

Pia Boot

Holly Brim

Joe Broderick

Mara Bueng

Phyllis Burbank

Bill Carter

Kirk Clayberg

Rachel Coon

Kathy Davis

Maurice Dionne

Phil Dorn

Norm Ensrud

Wes Eubanks

Judy Gill

Sally Goodrich

Art Gourdier

Ken Haase

Jan Haase

Ed Hill

Pat Ivey

Kathryn Janeski

Mac Johnson

Debbie Katcher

Jack Kelley

Christie Kelley

Bobby Lane

Paul Lewis

Tracey Luebkert

Jack LeMay

Becky Naca

Donna Oliver

Scott Parkinson

Andy Powers

Tom Reeder

Barbara Robinson

Doris Smith

Dick Smith

Bill Werber

Darren Zunno

Jerady Zunno

Prologue - On the Kindness of Strangers

EMT: Beyond the Lights and Sirens began as a journal, a personal account of my experiences on my community volunteer rescue squad, tracing my steps, slow and often unsteady, into the world of emergency prehospital medicine.

I have heard and continue to hear from Emergency Medical Technicians throughout the world. Bill Trumbore from Effort, Pennsylvania, wrote in his letter to me: "While reading your book I laughed and cried with you. I came to realize that what we do and what we feel is universal to those of us who endeavor in our line of work."

He is right. For we have all been on the same roads, dirt and gravel and paved. We have knelt over the same patients in the same rooms, cramped and hot from corner wood-stoves. We have held children in our arms and in our hearts and heard the cries of families, heart-wrenching cries that mingle with our own silent ones. And our prayers are the same, in whatever language.

I have heard from men and women from Poultney, Vermont, and La Grange Park, Illinois; from Ashburnham, Maine, and Port Charlotte and Bradenton, Florida; Gullford, Connecticut, and Kenmore, New York; from Shreveport, Louisiana, and Nebraska City, Nebraska; from Billings, Montana, and Renfrewshire, Scotland, and a tiny village in Portugal.

I've heard from teenagers who've discovered Beyond the Lights and Sirens in their school libraries and decided to become junior members of their community rescue squads, and I've heard from families who've been touched by the skill and kindness of volunteer rescue squad personnel.

"You reminded me why I became an EMT," wrote Tim Dodson of New Orleans, Louisiana. Paul and JoAnn Best from Waldo, Arkansas, shared with me stories of their rural volunteer squad. Despite his hearing disability, Robert Drake, a student at Gallaudet University, wants so very much to be an EMT. I have heard from so many who say to me, "If you could do it, so can I!" And, of course, they can.

I've heard from people who just want to talk, to share the stories of their "saves" and their losses. Mike, an EMT from Ohio, called me one rainy day. "It's raining here, too," he said. Then he told me that one of my dreams had become a reality for him: he had delivered a baby. His words were without the exhilaration I expected. He was quiet for several moments. "We had another call there," he said, finally. "SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome)" he told me, grief still resounding in his voice, " the baby I'd delivered was dead."

I have been asked, "Do you still have Jesse's sock?"

I do.

It's in the same dresser drawer.

It's a reminder of that cool October morning when we struggled to save his life.

That small red sock continues to remind me of why we are here, why we endure the battle even when the odds are so overwhelming.

It is a reminder of hope that is eternal, of memories that sustain and strengthen us, and of love that makes it all complete... a reminder of what we take with us and what we bestow within and beyond our world of lights and sirens.

Chapter 1

"Possible overdose," the dispatcher said. "Thirty-four-year-old female."

The location of the call was near my house. Otherwise, I might not have gone. Kirk and Bobby and Pia were on duty and easily could have handled it.

I pulled my uniform from the closet and slipped it on over my shorts, grabbed my portable radio, and headed for the car. "Possible overdose" doesn't tell us much. It doesn't tell us what was taken, or the level of consciousness, or the respiratory status. Deputies often accompany us to overdose calls for adults because of the likelihood of a volatile situation. With children, the overdose is almost always accidental; with adults, it's intentional.

Our security force was already on the scene. Clay met me at the driveway.

"I don't think she's taken anything, Pat," he said, shaking his head. "Her neighbor called us and then called for rescue. He said she was acting funny, but this isn't the first time."

"What's she doing?" I asked him.

"Reading from the Bible. Saying she's got to get rid of the devil. She needs some help, Pat, but I don't think she's taken any pills. We've been here before, just to ask her to quiet down."

"What's her name?"

"Lisa Wilkins."

I heard the siren in the distance and reached for my radio. "EMS 29 to Medic 292."

"Go ahead, EMS 29," Bobby responded.

"Come in easy," I told him.

On the front porch, a small boy played quietly with plastic toy dinosaurs.

"Hi," I said, kneeling beside him. "My name is Pat. An ambulance will be here in a minute just to make sure your Mommy's okay."

He nodded slowly and held a dinosaur up for me to see. "I'm Tyler and this is a Tyrannosaurus rex," he said.

"The king of all the dinosaurs," I replied.

He smiled then, but only with his mouth. There was no sparkle in his eyes. There was no luster in his pale, slender face.

His mother was standing in the kitchen reading aloud from her Bible. Her back was to me, and I approached her quietly. "Lisa," I said, but she seemed unaware of my presence until I reached out and touched her arm. She wore a sleeveless shirt, and her skin was cool to the touch. She turned and looked at me, her dark eyes dazed and vacant.

"And the children of Israel again did evil in the sight of the Lord." Her finger moved slowly, deliberately across the lines. "Listen!" she said, and she read it to me again.

"Lisa," I began, "we want to know that you are all right." My words sounded hollow, even to me, for it was quite clear she was not. "We would like to take you to see the doctor."

"I am not sick," she said. "I am evil."

"I don't think you are evil," I responded. "Sometimes things get very confusing for us. Sometimes life is very difficult "

"I am evil and I want to speak to a minister," she interrupted me. "This book says I'm evil. The Bible says I'm evil. I don't need you. I want to speak to a minister."