Go back to this post about a waste-of-time-but-can't-do-anything-about-it call. I received a scathing comment on it, a couple of weeks after the post was written, which reads as follows:
I just hope that it wasn't a member of my family having a cardiac arrest in the 15 minutes or so it took you to get her to hospital. Quite simply, you shouldn't have took her. The RRV isn't a taxi service.If Paramedic's want to be paid a professional wage, then they need to act professionally. This means assessing your patient and perhaps deciding they don't need to be taken to hospital by ambulance. If ambulance staff are doing to fit the "stretcher monkey" sterotype and just do exactly what the patient tells them to do, then they deserve to get paid the going rate as a taxi driver. (sic)
The first thought that, cynically, came to mind, was that I wouldn't mind being paid as a taxi driver. I'm sure they earn more than I do.
Then I sat and criticised the spelling and grammatical errors in the comment, as though I'm some sort of linguistic expert.
Then, and only then, did I really think about it, and reply to it. Go look at the post again. My reply is there.
I still question both my actions with the patient, as well as my reply to the comment. Ultimately, I feel that I really didn't have a choice. I had no chance of being a "professional" paramedic, as professionalism could equal job-loss.
I was incensed at the time. Called control, asked them to listen back to the call and find out how this was given a high-priority status, only to find that the "patient" knew all the tricks in the book, and answered all the questions to lead the system down the path of a life-threatening emergency.
The call taker had no choice.
The computer system had no choice.
I had no choice.
Sometimes we're all stuck in a big game of Simon Says.
And whatever Simon says, whether it's right or wrong, goes.
Every so often I just wish my name was Simon.