Our frequent flier died.
Most of you know that, among other things I do, I am volunteer EMT with our local Rescue Squad, actually two of them. At least once a week, I am responding to 911 emergencies as called in by the public. I’ve received comments of admiration and incredulation, such as “I don’t know how you do what you do.” Yeah, well, neither do I. All I know is that it’s therapeutic for me. In nearly 12 years of doing that, we have run some real cage-rattling calls. Things I don’t want to see ever again. Then, there are the rest of the calls.
Probably 80% of the calls we respond to are what the person believes is an emergency at the time (maybe), but the general public does would not agree. Uncontrollable diarrhea for 5 days. I’ve run out of medication. It’s 2am and my leg won’t stop shaking. A splinter. Yes, all stuff I’ve responded to lights-and-siren.
We had one particular patient, who I’ll call Norma. She was our most frequent flier, amassing some 300 911 calls in about 5 years. In some cases 10-12 calls per week. It was usually pretty benign, and her address coming over dispatch was usually met with a groan. The entire county knew her. She had become somewhat of a joke. Further, she was usually pretty rude to the first responders who came in, ordering us around, and snapping at us if we let her door slam to hard. Her family would have nothing to do with her, because she was mean to them too. They knew she was a hazard to others, and abused the system, but nobody was going to tell Norma what to do.
Over time, Norma was finally “convinced” (by a judge) that, due to her frequent calls for help, she could no longer live alone, and she moved into an Assisted Living Community in town. We saw her a few more times, but eventually, the staff was able to handle her needs. Those of you who run duty on my crew, with my squad, or anywhere in this county probably know of whom I speak.
“Norma” passed away about three weeks ago. As near as I can tell, it was from complications due to pneumonia, but I don’t really know. I got an email from someone advising me of her passing, while I was on duty. I shared the information with my crew. And those of us who all complained about her frequency and her attitude took pause, and we all said a little prayer. Some of us wanted to go to her service.
In the end, there was no service, just a simple burial. Another obituary in the local paper. Another empty apartment and house for sale in our community. However, it was stlil somebody who was a human being. A human with stories that most didn’t want to hear any more, and experiences that she refused to share with us. Norma was 85 or 86 when she died.
RIP, Norma. We know your real name. Hippa and good taste prevent frmo sharing your real name publicly. You’ve gone to a better place, where maybe people won’t judge you quite as harshly, and everybody gets a new start. RIP.
