The Way We Were

The Jan/Feb 1982 issue of EMS Magazine celebrated the publication's 10th anniversary, and as part of that coverage, editorial advisory board member Robert G. Nixon reflected on his experiences working as an EMT in the early 1970s when many EMS services were run out of funeral homes. Bob served on the editorial advisory board until his untimely death in July 2008.

I started my career in EMS unknowingly in April 1971 with a funeral home ambulance service. I often wonder how patients survived our crude emergency care procedures, antiquated equipment and inadequate supplies. Sometimes I felt like a vulture. If the patient did not survive, we waited at the hospital until the family decided which funeral home to use. If they chose us, we took the body back to the funeral home.

In those days we had beautiful vehicles: Cadillacs, with all the options, which could double as funeral coaches simply by removing the emergency lights from the top and the temporary, carpet-covered plywood floor from the patient compartment!

After six months with the funeral home I returned to college to complete my degree, but the "EMS bug" had bitten and I was hooked.

The following year, after graduating from college and armed with my First Aid card, I became an ambulance attendant with a privately operated ambulance service. The EMT program was just beginning and my colleagues and I enrolled and completed the EMT courses at the local community college. Unfortunately, the EMT patch and what it represented created new problems. God forbid if you walked into the emergency department with a stethoscope hanging from your neck! The nurses resented this intrusion into their domain. They were especially resentful if you tried to describe the patient's condition, particularly if you mentioned the patient's blood pressure. On the scene was even more frustrating. Although we often sat in the station and played cards with the police officers, their concept of EMS was still grab-and-run. Hostilities developed among friends concerning patient care, but we still managed to get the job done. On many occasions we put patients in the ambulance, drove around the corner, and then performed our assessment. Gradually, the nurses and police officers became accustomed to our attempts at patient care.

During my three years with the ambulance service, I enrolled in and completed the paramedic program. With no set curriculum, our course was oriented primarily toward reading electrocardiograms and memorizing cursory information about the drugs we would carry. EMS was starting to become a reality. The county was operating a pilot project to determine the benefit of having paramedic services offered to the cit-izens. Some ambulance crews, fearing for their jobs, tried to fight progress. Whenever a call came in, the crews would race to the scene, load the patient and leave before rescue arrived. Rumors were rampant that the county's EMS system would soon fold due to a lack of interest and prohibitive costs.

After I completed my paramedic course, I thought I was hot stuff. Once, while I was still working for the ambulance service, I brought in a patient who was in cardiopulmonary arrest. During the confusion in the emergency department, the doctor ordered someone, anyone, to defibrillate the victim. No one moved, so I picked up the paddles and delivered the countershock. Miraculously, the patient converted.

Immediately, one of the three nursing supervisors evicted us from the emergency department, reminding us that our job was only to transport. Ambulance drivers were not supposed to do "those things."

Not long after that incident I left the ambulance service and started working for the county's rescue system. In my new uniform, I walked casually into the emergency department where I found that hostility had been rekindled--the response to my new uniform was chilling. One could literally feel ice forming between friends. The nurses, once again, feared their jobs were in jeopardy. Gradually the animosity faded, but on occasion, it still rears its ugly head.