I love my new job. I love the work. Of course, I wish it paid better but…
Lately, my knees have been stealing my joy. My knees and my legs hurt and get stiff. Mostly it has been my knees. I cannot pinpoint the exact problem but it is effecting my mobility and is making for some bad, painful days. I get angry too. I finally find a job I enjoy and I have to deal with pain and the fear that I may not be able to do it. So I have had some bad days lately.
Yesterday was a very bad day though, and not just because of my knees.
My first transport: I picked up a patient for a colonoscopy. I took him–and his sister–to the hospital in which he was to have the procedure. A third party set up the procedure appointment and his transportation. Only that his name was not on the list. What in the hell? So this patient has gotten ready his colonoscopy and they don’t have him on the list. I was pissed for him and his sister. And I hate to leave these people before I know what is going on. After a few phone calls, the patient is told that they will try to work him in. This of course, will push back his procedure time, which will screw up his sister’s schedule, and she wants to reschedule and leave. I am told that the third party that arranged this may not pay for the patient’s transport if he wants to go home because he is refusing treatment. At this point I don’t know what to do because I hate to leave these people stranded but dispatch has given me another transport. The people decided to stay but they weren’t happy. It wasn’t my fault but I felt bad for them and hope the man got his procedure close to the time originally scheduled (the poor man was hungry too), for his and his sister’s sake.
My second transport: I picked up a lady at the hospital and transferred her to a nearby facility. Nothing too strenuous except that she had a suitcase and 2-3 bags plus a walker too. Her sister and brother were there and right away the sister was pissed at me. She was pissed because I wasn’t an ambulance crew–I was only one person instead of two. Like that is my fault. She is wondering how we are going to transport all her sister’s stuff. I am not too worried about it. First, the patient is my priority, not their stuff. Second, I have always found a way to transport the stuff when family members weren’t around to help, and in this case this patient had 2 family members there to help. I wasn’t too concerned and I guess my lack of concern irked the sister. Usually a nurse is right there assisting and offers a cart and and a CNA to help. Of course, yesterday, the nurse was not around and no one was being helpful. I folded up the patient’s walker and her sister got pissy about that, “I’d rather have it unfolded so I can put these bags on it.” Okay, but then I couldn’t unfold the damn thing. There a nurse did help but he couldn’t get it unfolded at first either. The sister looked at me accusingly, “I hope you didn’t break it.” I just took a deep breath–because by that time I was ready to tell this bitch off and jet–and said, “I hope not.” It wasn’t broken, just the damn lines for the brakes (brakes on a walker? Who needs it!) were getting caught in the frame, preventing it from unfolding. Finally we get going. I get the patient down to the van and load the patient while her family watches, talking about how they can’t believe there aren’t two people on a wheelchair van (or ambulance as people all too often mistakenly call us) and how this job was too much for one person. I get the patient’s stuff loaded. Then the sister has to the nerve to ask me for a ride to her car. Um, no. I am not supposed to do that. Sorry.
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