You'd think when your husband of however many years attempts suicide and writes a note, the wife would care.
She certainly came flying down the street and driveway like she cared a lot. She raced up the stairs to the room we were in, looked briefly at the note, and asked if anyone had seen the cat.
She was more concerned with the stupid cat than with her husband's wellbeing. After asking if the cat was let out on accident, she went downstairs and didn't return. We had to hunt her down and get his ID and medications.
Meanwhile, the husband was out of it, but trying to make it seem worse. He failed a simple test we do when we think someone is playing possum. Not to say he wasn't in need of treatment though, as there was already IV access, and the other crews were working on a 4-lead as I put the guy on some high-flow oxygen.
Once we got him into the truck, the medic asked if I'd drive them in. I don't know if he was expecting the guy to crash, I think he may have just wanted to show the fairly new EMT some things.
We were a very short distance from the hospital (maybe 2 miles), so the ride was quick. As I was backing in at the ER, the EMT was placing a OPA (oral airway). The guy was some degree of conscious, because she later told me she'd ordered him to open his mouth more and he did. He did not gag on the airway device though.
He had some marks on his arms that lead us to believe suicide may not be a new idea to him.
I don't know what else happened or if there's any more to the story. This is where it ends for me. I returned to my truck, which had followed us to the hospital, and helped get it turned around so we could leave.
We picked up dinner on the way back to the station and didn't turn a wheel the rest of the shift. I was bored so I drew a some art for friends, chatted online a bit, then went to bed.
Watchdog fail on St. Josephs' Day
3 days ago