Ambulances, Aging, and the American Civil War
Well, I’m old.
If my duck story from a few weeks ago—where I literally told some doofus to get off my lawn—didn’t make me feel old, then realizing I finished paramedic school 10 years ago definitely does. And if I couple those facts with the reality that my cool-guy-911-ambulance job is in a college town where legitimately 80% of my coworkers are under the age of 27… I’m practically an Eliquis-laden geriatric getting senior discount coffee at McDonald’s before heading to Goodwill to peruse the weekend deals.
In light of all that, I take solace in three things:
- Gabby is still older than I am.
- I’m slowly starting to get gray hair.
- All of this is awesome.
Anyway, I was reflecting on past calls I’ve been on and remembered one of my favorites. The best part? There wasn’t any gore, no impressive trauma to write home to Mom about, no super neat life-saving paramedic interventions, no demon-possessed guy trying to eat an infant (although that was unforgettable), no unnecessary violence, no babies being delivered, no inebriated homeless people, no unwanted bodily fluids on my work clothes, no inclement weather to deal with, no bedbugs…
It was just an elderly man at home who had difficulty urinating.
This elderly man was in his mid-90s. He was witty, could walk on his own, lived independently, and still swam daily laps at the pool. He was practically the Hoosier equivalent of Dick Van Dyke.
He called us in the middle of the night because he had trouble peeing and thought there might’ve been some blood in his urine. But his vitals were stable, he didn’t have any acute injuries, and he showed no obvious signs of distress. And that was lovely for everyone.
Oh! More context: I learned early in my EMS career to ask elderly people who the oldest person is that they’ve ever talked to. I’ve gotten some neat answers, but this patient’s answer was the neatest.
He said the oldest person he ever talked to was his great-grandpa. His great-grandpa was in his 90s when my patient was around 6 or 7 years old. Then he said his great-grandpa fought in the Civil War.
The American Civil War.
The American Civil War that went from 1861 to 1865.
That Civil War.
Then he said that great-grandpa fought for the Union—and that his other great-grandpa fought for the Confederacy.
Both great-grandpas survived the war, and it remained a point of family contention for a long time. The Confederate great-grandpa died before my patient was born, so the family quibbles were just stories he’d heard. He had only ever actually spoken with—and had a relationship with—the Union great-grandpa.
Then we arrived at the hospital, and he went on his merry way to definitive care.
I wish it had been a longer transport.
But seriously, I talked to someone who had personally talked to someone who was literally in the Civil War.
I doubt I’ll ever have that happen again.
But man, it was cool.