Category: Patient Anecdotes

EMS, Medical School, Patient Anecdotes, Virginia Beach

A Neuroscientist’s Look Back on his July 4th Ambulance Ride-Along

On July 4, 2013, Dr. Paul Aravich joined TeamLouka on the ambulance as an observer.  He was asked to jot down a few thoughts on his experience.  His essay is shared below.

~Steph

Reflections of a Virginia Beach Volunteer Rescue Squad Lay Observer, July 4, 2013. 

Paul F. Aravich, PhD
998839_10151588264079545_313081585_nStephanie Krebs and Amir Louka are two VBVRS volunteers and EVMS medical students who are “social change agents and leaders for the greater good of the community.” They invited me to run with them at Station 8 on Independence Day, 2013. I saw 2 other EVMS students that day who I also admire: an exceptional paramedic who is a new medical student, and a Navy veteran and physician assistant student who is as gentle as he is tall. I witnessed great respect between VBVRS, fire department and ED personnel in almost every instance. And I saw cutting-edge wireless technology and state-of-the-art equipment—although I am still not sure if it the ambulance is a box or a truck.

At the station I hung-out with a volunteer from York County who served at the World Trade Centers and Katrina, a new EVMS graduate student, a senior volunteer who is a builder of persons as well as of homes and barbecues, a critical care nurse from Chesapeake, and an accountant. We talked about abandoned older persons, defensive medicine, how to read an ECG, challenging behaviors, not getting T-boned at intersections, altruism, family, political turmoil in Egypt, and who catches a baseball better, the bulked-up waiter at IHOP or a nerd like me who, like Winnie the Pooh, is actually a “bear of little brain.” We also wondered if we heard the dispatcher correctly that a person got stabbed in the cheek with a fork. At one point Stephanie bravely gave me her humerus (which is pretty funny) and Amir gave me his stethoscope and cuff so I could learn the proper way to take a blood pressure. Thankfully, Stephanie’s paresthesia lasted only a few minutes. At the nearby Oceania Fire Station we laughed with an Army veteran who has seen more than his fair share of tragedies, discussed the merits of Cheryl Crow as a History Channel commentator, and had a surprising conversation about the nutritional problems of hot dogs that made me worry that firefighters may someday eschew donuts. I saw camaraderie being built during the down times as well as during the calls. And, I talked with a squad member and former court official about the ones that were saved, the ones that got away, and an aging parent with dementia. I was reminded that all of us have to hold on to our victories, let go of our defeats, and understand that we’re in this together.

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Dr. Aravich & us outside Sentara Virginia Beach General Hospital

Throughout the day I was humbled and inspired by consistent displays of commitment and professionalism, humanism and compassion, and collegiality and mutual support. I saw a successfully aged person with a rare and serious injury that causes significant pain in others but did not in her and wondered if it would steal her independence. I saw an isolated older woman and cancer survivor with depression and abdominal pain and hoped that her GI cancer was not coming back. I saw a frightened young mother fighting addiction and hoped that today will be the first day of the rest of her life. I saw an injured skateboarder who should have known about helmets. I saw a scared older person with breathlessness and fatigue and a family history of heart attack who should not have been cutting grass in the middle of a hot day. I saw the basic life support team immediately recognized the severity of this situation and calmly and effectively take precautions before the paramedic arrived. I saw the paramedic take an ECG in the truck and learned later that it showed the more severe type of heart attack called a STEMI (ST Elevation Myocardial Infarction). I saw the paramedic taking care of this person inside the moving and turning ambulance by, e.g., drawing blood, giving nitroglycerine, sending ECG telemetry to the ED, and offering words of encouragement. Finally, on the 4th of July I saw a crying spouse, caring neighbors, and engaged citizens volunteering to help others when almost everyone else was relaxing.

If, in the Jeffersonian tradition, the pursuit of happiness importantly involves pursuing the greater good, then the VBVRS is full of happy people. And, if people are not distinguished by doing what they have to do but are distinguished by doing what they don’t have to do, the VBVRS is full of very distinguished people. Thank you Stephanie, Amir and the VBVRS for allowing me to see the important volunteer work you do without charging patients. Lives do indeed need saving, both physically and emotionally. All of you saved lives today. Is there any greater compliment? Meantime, a few words about hot dogs: it is OK to bad-mouth hotdogs—but not on the 4th of July.

Dr. Paul Aravich is a behavioral neuroscientist and Professor of Pathology & Anatomy, Internal Medicine, and Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation at Eastern Virginia Medical School (EVMS). He is the former of the Virginia Brain Injury Council and its Ad Hoc Neurobehavioral Committee. He also chaired the Virginia Governor’s Public Guardian & Conservator Advisory Board and sits on the Boards of the Mary Buckley Foundation for brain injury survivors & their families; the I Need a Lighthouse Foundation for suicide awareness; and Alternatives, a nationally recognized youth empowerment organization. He won an AOA Glaser Distinguished Teacher Award. It is the highest award for medical education in the United States and Canada and is presented at the annual meeting of the Association of American Medical Colleges. He also won a Virginia State Council of Higher Education Outstanding Faculty Award, which is Virginia’s highest award for research, teaching and service.
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EVMS Graduation, May 2014
You can view his 2009 TEDTalk here:
To learn more about volunteer opportunities with the Virginia Beach Rescue Squads, visit LivesNeedSaving.com.
Emergency Medicine, EMS, Patient Anecdotes

Caring for criminals: How to provide good medical care to people who have done bad things

As an Emergency Medicine Physician and EMS provider, I get a lot of questions about my job.  #1 “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen?”  #2 is “How do you stay motivated and not let it get to you?” And #3 is what I’ll address in this post, “How do you take care of murderers, rapists and other people who have done horrible things?”

It’s an unfortunately common scenario: high-speed MVC, multiple vehicles, one DOA (dead on arrival), two adults in critical condition, being flown by helicopter as the highest level trauma alert, alcohol involved.  And all too often, Paramedics, Nurses and Physicians have to take care of everyone involved, including the intoxicated driver that caused the mayhem.  How do you have compassion, empathy and care for someone that by all evidence just killed someone in a completely preventable way?  I’ve been in Emergency Medicine for 11 years, and I still struggle with this.  It’s never easy, but I’ve found a few strategies to help cope.

1. Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

A few months back I was taking care of an ICU patient that I knew was a prisoner in a maximum security prison due to the vigilant watch by 2-3 armed security guards at all times.  Clearly he had done something bad, but for me, knowing exactly what would only potentially worsen the medical care I could give him, not improve it.  So I didn’t ask, I didn’t Google.  Unfortunately someone else did, and shared it with the whole team.

Turns out he beheaded a total stranger, a husband and a father of two, because he didn’t have cash in his wallet when he tried to rob him.  Once I learned that, I couldn’t unknow it.  I struggled to walk in his room each morning with a smiling face and open, non-judging mind.  For the human in me, it was a battle I had to consciously fight.  My advice to anyone who might care for inmates or anyone in police custody, don’t ask, and encourage the whole team not to ask.  And if you find out, don’t tell.  99% of the time it’s not relevant to patient care, and can only cause you (and everyone else on the team) to make mistakes.

2. Be an Advocate

Incarcerated people have difficulty accessing medical care.  Although prisons and jails have a medical clinic, studies show that prisoners get less frequent and timely care for both chronic and acute conditions.  A 2009 report published in the American Journal of Public Health, unearthed some worrisome stats:

  • “Among inmates with a persistent medical problem, 13.9% of federal inmates, 20.1% of state inmates, and 68.4% of local jail inmates had received no medical examination since incarceration.

  • Prior to incarceration, slightly more than 1 in 7 inmates were taking a prescription medication for an active medical problem routinely requiring medication (as defined in the Methods section). Of these, 3314 federal (20.9%), 43 679 state (24.3%), and 28 473 local jail inmates (36.5%) stopped the medication following incarceration.

  • Only a small portion of prison inmates (3.9% of federal and 6.4% of state inmates) with an active medical problem for which laboratory monitoring is routinely indicated had not undergone at least 1 blood test since incarceration. However, most local jail inmates with such a condition (60.1% [SE = 1.8%]) had not undergone a blood test.

  • Following serious injury, 650 federal inmates (7.7%), 12 997 state inmates (12.0%), and 3183 local jail inmates (24.7%) were not seen by medical personnel.“

Incarcerated persons have to “prove” to prison staff they are truly sick and need to go to the Emergency Department.  Yes, many prisoners fake or exaggerate symptoms for the secondary gain of getting a break from behind bars: better eye candy, different food, and maybe some good pain medication.  But, 38-43% of inmates have chronic medical conditions, which by all evidence, may not be properly addressed and managed by the prison clinic.  When these patients present to the ED, I play it safe and assume they have been sick a few days longer than a regular person, as they probably had to fight to make their case to prison staff.  Guilty or innocent, these patients all need an advocate for their medical care.  I take pride in being that person, which allows me to keep my personal judgements out of the encounter.

3. We are guilty, too

Last week I took care of a woman addicted to IV heroin.  By all accounts, she was pitiful looking – shivering, sweating, unable to sit still.  She was also curt, demanding and liked to cuss at us.  The medical student with me asked how someone could make such poor choices and then be so demanding.  I didn’t disagree, and I found myself starting to judge.  I had to redirect my thoughts and remember that prescription opioids can be a gateway to heroin for many people.  Heroin is 1/10th the cost of prescription drugs bought on the street.  People get hurt or have surgery, and we (doctors, NPs and PAs) prescribe them pain medication.  When people can’t afford their prescription drug addictions, they turn to the cheaper alternative.  And who writes the most prescriptions for these drugs?  Us. We contribute to this, so we need to accept treating it.

handcuffs

That’s my limited advice.  It’s still a daily struggle, with some days easier than others.  Do you have any tips to offer on how to approach this difficult patient population?  If so, I’d love to hear them.  I encourage you to comment below.

~Steph

Emergency Medicine, EMS, Patient Anecdotes

When people fall from extreme heights

I’m currently on a month of Ortho nights and was asked by the Attending to look up an article about the median lethal dose (LD50) for falls, meaning, at what height when people fall, do 50% of them die.  Although 10 years old, the article is pretty interesting and got me thinking about some fall patients I’ve taken care of in the past.  I once had a patient who accidently fell 11 stories from a hotel and lived.  But we’ll get back to that story in a bit.

A fun fact before we dive in:

The record for a fall from the greatest height where the person survived is held by Alan Magee, a WWII USAF pilot who jumped out of his plane at a startling 24,000 feet and landed in a pine forest (some sources say a glass roof).  Fortunately for him, the forest (or the roof) was covered in snow which is believed to have decreased the energy of the impact due to its deformability.  If you are looking for a great book about a fall survivor, check out When I Fell From the Sky, by Juliane Koepche, a 17 year old girl who fell 10,000 feet from her family’s airplane which ultimately crashed in the Amazon jungle in 1971.

When I Fell From the Sky (front).grid-4x2

The evidence on falls

The article, Prognostic factors in victims of falls from height, by Lapostolle et al, was published in Critical Care Medicine in 2005.  The study took place in France, in a city near Paris with a population of 1.3 million people.  The researchers worked with the local EMS agency, Service d’Aide Médicale Urgente (SAMU), to examine both pre-hospital and in-hospital mortality (death) from falls, with the goal of determining what characteristics of a fall, if any, factor into prognosis.  There were 287 patients in the study, 97 (34%) of which ultimately died.  In short, they determined that patient age, height of fall (e.g. 1 story vs 8), impact surface type (e.g. concrete vs snow) and body part that first touches the ground (e.g. head vs legs) all help predict how a patient will do.

Interestingly enough, they even looked at the circumstances leading to the fall (i.e. accident, suicide, escaping a burning building), and cause did not factor in to prognosis.  When you stop and think about it for a second, it seems semi-reasonable that someone determined to commit suicide might be able to jump in such a way to be more successful in his mission.  Yet, of the 123 patients who attempted suicide, only 45.5% were successful.  So suicide was not more deadly of a fall.

Also of interest, landing feet first was much less deadly than landing on your stomach, with death rates of 5.6% and 57.1% respectively.  Getting back to my patient who fell 11 stories and lived, he fell feet first.  I believe he survived because his legs acted as a sort of crumple zone, absorbing some of the energy of the impact.

Figure 1. Height of fall and related mortality.
Figure 1. Height of fall and related mortality. Lapostolle et al.

Figure 1 above is from the article, and shows what’s known as the median lethal dose (LD50) for falls, meaning, at what height of a fall will 50% of people die.  In this study, it was determined to be just over 4 stories.  You can see that in this study, with the exception of one person who fell 17 stories, 100% of the patients who fell from 8 stories or more died.  Clearly there are exceptions to this in real life – the 17 story patient, my patient, Mr. Magee, Ms. Keopche – but statistically speaking, it’s extremely rare.  So, next time you respond to a call or see a patient in the ED who fell 4 or more stories, know that they have a 50/50 chance of survival.

Sorry for the morbid topic, but that’s part of being on night shift I suppose.

~Steph

emsstrong.org
EMS, Patient Anecdotes

Did you know it’s National EMS Week?

Did you know that May 17-23, 2015 is National EMS Week?  There are over 825,000 certified EMS providers in the United States.  In addition to being an exciting job, it’s also a dangerous one – with an estimated 27,800 ED visits annually by EMS providers as patients themselves!

While donating to a local rescue squad is a great way to show your support for EMS Week, I can tell you from first hand experience that a simple gesture to say “thank you” goes a long long way to keep an EMS provider motivated and inspired.

TeamLouka Gets a Sweet “Thank You”

A few years ago on a hot Summer day, Amir and I were dispatched to a house for a child having a seizure.  The little girl had a history of frequent seizures, so her parents were pros at giving her Diastat, her emergency medication designed to stop a seizure.  By the time we arrived just a few minutes later, her seizure had stopped, and her Dad just asked that we check her vital signs.  He had spoken to her Neurologist who agreed she could stay home if her heart rate, blood pressure and breathing were all stable.  Fortunately, everything checked out ok, so the family was able to avoid another hospitalization.

As we collected the equipment and marched back downstairs, we heard the Dad pop the top on two bottles and shout “I really want to thank you both!”  Hoping not to embarrass or insult him, Amir and I discussed the best way to tell him we couldn’t accept an alcoholic “thank you” while on duty.  As we rounded the corner to the kitchen, we saw him holding two ice-cold bottles of Coca-Cola.  We drove away feeling appreciated and recharged – ready to take on whatever 911 call came next.

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The sweetest kind of “Thank You”

Hopefully you won’t have to have such a close encounter with your local EMS providers, but don’t let that stop you from giving the next crew you see a pat on the back.

~ Steph

Emergency Medicine, General, Patient Anecdotes

Ups and Downs of My Intern Year in Emergency Medicine

Everyone warns you that Intern year is hard. It’s a year of little sleep; a rollercoaster of emotions both good and bad. Frustration and guilt in wanting to know everything NOW, because everything you don’t know might be what matters for this patient, this time. And trememndous successes. Some of the things I did this year, I really can’t believe I was able to do. And survive. Mostly, I’ve learned a lot about myself, and have been reminded yet again, that I work with an amazing group of people.

UP – Running a trauma when I thought I could never do it

I have a distinct memory of standing in the Trauma Bay at Norfolk General Hospital, watching the Trauma Team work its perfectly organized chaotic magic. I paid particular attention to the young female physician leading the whole thing – inserting an airway, calling out physical exam findings, doing an eFAST ultrasound to look for bleeding. I remember hoping, wishing I could ever have her confidence and calm demeanor. That thought was followed quickly by being thankful I wasn’t yet in that spotlight myself. I could never do that, right? In September I ran my first Delta Trauma at a Level I Trauma Center, and I survived to do it again.

VCU Medical Center Resuscitation Bay, Richmond, VA
VCU Medical Center Resuscitation Bay, Richmond, VA

DOWN – Those 2-week stretches not seeing my husband

I had no idea how much I need my husband to help me feel like a normal, healthy, centered human being. Amir and I had about four 2-week stretches this year where he was on nights and I was on days, or vice versa. One day we were so desperate for a date we coordinated a 20 minute coffee meet-up at the au bon pain in the hospital. Let’s not talk about what the house or laundry pile looked like during those stretches.  This is the video we play each other if we ever need a pick-me-up:

UP – Procedures, procedures, procedures

Open Thoracotomy

Paracentesis

Lumbar Puncture

intubations, central lines, suturing, joint reductions, even a c-section… you get the idea. I get to work with my hands a lot.

DOWN – Crying in the ICU

So I’m a crier. Always have been. I have distinct memories of my dad trying to help me with math homework as a kid, me getting frustrated and crying (my stress response), and my dad getting frustrated because I was crying. “What’s crying going to solve?” he used to ask me, which of course, made me cry more.

To be honest, I was expecting to cry multiple times the first few months of residency. tumblr_inline_mhsu6v3NBF1qz4rgpI actually made it to late February before it happened. Combine working 12-14 hours a day, 11 days in a row, with little sleep, food, potty break or non-medical human interaction (one of those 2-week stretches) – and now add to that a dozen of the sickest patients in the hospital. I broke down – red face, tears, snot, the whole nine yards. The nice thing about Intern year though is that everyone around you has been there, so I had about 4 senior residents plus 3 PAs sharing their crying stories right along with me to help pick me up. And that’s what you learn to do – pick yourself up, learn and keep going.

UP – Finally learning my way around the hospital (which is actually 4 hospitals)

Anyone who works in an old hospital knows how the building just gets added onto over the years, creating a behemoth maze of windowless hallways and floors that don’t match up. “Take the elevator to the 5th floor of North Hospital, turn left and you’ll be on the 1st floor of Main Hospital.” As if there weren’t enough to learn as an Intern.

DOWN – Cancer. I diagnose a lot of cancer.

I didn’t go into Oncology for a reason. It takes the smartest, strongest, most energized people to be cancer doctors. As an Emergency Physician, I expected to treat people with cancer, but I hadn’t thought of cancer as something I would diagnose. I guess I assumed that people would present to their PCP with concerning symptoms, get an outpatient workup and diagnosis by a specialist. But people do come to the ED for hematuria (blood in the urine), anorexia (lack of appetitie), back pain and weakness. And sometimes at the end of the workup, it’s cancer.

UP – Baby Mint Mochachino for a dying patient

Baby Mint Mochachino made with honor
Baby Mint Mochachino made with honor

I’ve seen a lot of amazing, caring people do a lot of touching things in the medical setting, but one moment stands out from this year. I had a patient who had chosen to pursue hospice care. He couldn’t stop telling me how beautiful his wife was and how he looked forward to seeing her soon. He had stopped eating and drinking days ago, so when he asked me for a “real coffee,” I was intrigued. He’d requested a cup of coffee from the medical student who poured him a cup of the hospital grade mud available to all employees. His dying wish was to have a real cup of coffee. How reasonable. I went to the ABP counter, told the story to the barista, and she whipped up the only coffee worthy of such a role – a baby mint mochachino, which she made with honor and pride in her work, even adjusting the temperature down to avoid any burned tongues.

So that’s it – Intern year is coming to a close, and July 1 I’ll be a “Senior Resident,” fraught with its own challenges and lessons to be learned.