It's All Relative

Those of you who read this blog regularly know that I'm away on military duty - again. I'm not working in an ambulance this week, but some things about the Army remind me of EMS, and vice-versa.

Those of who us work in EMS complain a lot - sometimes, with good reason. People bleed on us, and vomit on us, and sometimes they try to kill us. Not many people enjoy these things.

But it could always be worse. If the military has taught me anything, it's that life as a paramedic could always be worse.

Sure, it's hard work carrying a patient down three flights of stairs - especially in the summer, in an apartment building without air conditioning.

But crawling through dirt for hours at a time beneath a blazing sun is a lot more difficult. And I'm not even in Iraq, where the temperature is about 30 degrees hotter.

Unless we're going on a raid with the police, I never wear the bulletproof vest the city has issued me. I know I should, but I've never been able to get used to the thing. It's too hot, and too bulky.

But those vests, which are thin, and flexible, and fit beneath a uniform shirt, are nothing compared to the Individual Body Armor (IBA) issued by the military. You've seen IBA before - those are the suits with the high bulletproof collars that make Soldiers and Marines look like Gladiators. That stuff is REALLY bulky. And unbearably hot. After wearing IBA for just one week, I've come to realize that my bulletproof EMS vest isn't so uncomfortable after all. And even if I don't start wearing my vest when I return to the ambulance, the likelihood that a bad guy will shoot at me is actually quite low. But those men and women over in Iraq and Afghanistan? People shoot at them every day.

Life as a paramedic could always be worse.

When I get blood on me in the ambulance, it doesn't generally come from anyone I know. Occasionally I'll recognize a patient, having brought the same person to the hospital once or twice before, but it's almost never anyone who is really close to me. It's hard watching a patient suffer, but at least the patient tends to be a stranger.

How horrible would it be, though, if the person dying in front of me was another paramedic? If it was my partner? Or my best friend? That doesn't happen very often to paramedics. But it happens all the time to Soldiers.

Today we had some training that was really quite exciting. The Army has built an entire city out in the middle of a forest, complete with streets, alleys, two- and three-story buildings, and fire escapes. Working in teams of four, we had to advance through this city, armed with real M-16s loaded with blanks, watching out for enemy combatants along the way. And we did encounter plenty of bad guys. Drill sergeants dressed as Iraqi insurgents fired on us with AK-47s from rooftops, and windows, and doorways. Occasionally an IED would explode in the street. We had to fire back and dive for cover.

As paramedics, we go into dangerous buildings all the time. Places where drug dealers live, and addicts, and criminals of all sorts. But at no time during my 23 years with EMS has anyone tried to blow me up with a bomb. Nor has anyone shot at me with a machine gun. I've kicked in plenty of apartment doors as a paramedic, but I've never found armed soldiers waiting for me on the other side.

It could always be worse.

This evening, we went through another exciting training exercise. Soldiers get killed all the time in convoy ambushes, and as stable as HMMWVs are, they sometimes roll over while avoiding an ambush or after striking an IED. To train us how to react, we were placed in an up-armored HMMWV that had been turned into a simulator, like the ones Air Force pilots use to practice emergency landings. One minute we were sitting in the vehicle, pretending to drive confidently down the road, when suddenly it was tumbling on its side, tossing us around the inside. It was a disorienting experience, of course, and when the vehicle finally came to rest upside down, we had to remove our seat belts, lower ourselves to the roof, unlock the door, and crawl out into the sand. We had to find our weapons, of course, because we had to defend ourselves against the people who'd attacked us. As quickly as possible, we were to set up a defensive perimeter around the wrecked HMMWV and wait for help to arrive.

I've been in ambulance crashes before, but nothing like that. My trucks have always remained upright. Having gone through a simulated roll-over, I can say quite confidently that I don't envy Soldiers who survive real rollovers - especially ones that are caused by mines or IEDs.

I'm not going to stop complaining about ambulance work, of course. It's a dangerous, messy, and at times brutal business. When I do find myself complaining, though, I'll try to remember that some jobs - and in particular, the job of an infantry Soldier - are even more dangerous, more messy, and more brutal.

And if nothing else, then before I complain, I'll try to remember that life as a paramedic could always be worse.