Shot through the ear and you’re to blame…
My wife and I just celebrated our 10 year wedding anniversary. We had a wonderful time in Wimberley, Texas. We stayed at great inn called Creekhaven Inn and Spa over the holiday weekend. I highly recommend it for those needing to get away from the world for a few days.
Our marriage has been a work in progress. We have always had love for each other. We always knew we were meant for each other. The problem for us was the world always seemed to get in the way. Our personal insecurities and baggage weighed us down at times. We struggled to communicate with each other a lot. But we both committed to learning about one another, prop each other up when needed, and learn to really talk to one another and understand the root of our issues.
My relationship with my wife has taught me that love is not necessarily at first sight. That moment when you see someone for the first time and it pulls at your heart, that is purely attraction at a primal level. Not to dismiss it as only carnal, I believe it is an attraction to someone that strongly has the potential to be a mate, not just a fleeting romance. When you engage with this attraction you can either choose to see if a relationship develops or consciously agree with the other party to a brief, swift physical encounter. Or if you are lucky, both!
“Bruh, can you get on with the witty retelling of a 911 call that your ‘perfect relationship’ reminded you of?”
Bear with me please, I’m a little high and monologuing.
So, what I’m getting at is marriage, relationships, friendships, any kind of bond that is meant to grow and last over time requires work. Nothing is perfect and great things come from hard work. My wife and I have grown our relationship into a true bond, a dedication and commitment to each other.
Which now brings me to my witty retelling of a 911 call that my awesome marriage reminded me of.
This call happened many years after leaving Belton FD and going to Austin working EMS full time. Looking back, I have to say my wildest, best calls and legit life saves happened in Belton. That is due to our FD not having enough resources and a small staff for our response area. This is important for all those looking to enter public service.
You have 2 choices:
1 — Work for a small department, usually away from metropolitan areas. This means you have less resources but you get amazing experience. You are thrown straight to the wolves like Liam Neeson at the end of that movie.
2 — You work for a larger city department that has ample resources and just be another fish in the sea. This means the odds of you gaining vast, quality experience diminishes as there are more chances for others to catch those calls. All those crazy 911 calls you hear about on TV or read about rarely happen. So when you have a larger pool of first responders to catch those calls, the lower the quality of experience you will gain.
I lucked out in that by the time I sold out and left Belton for Austin I had already had my fill of wild shit. When I did get those crazy calls working in Austin, I just switched on my EMS — autopilot and basically slept walked through them. Not bragging, just being honest.
This call I want to share with you was both crazy in circumstances and ended with me switching the ol’autopilot on.
It was just before rush hour during the work week. My partner and I were doing what we always did in Austin, run non-stop, going from one call to another. I remember pulling out of the hospital and trying to head back to station. It was hot that day. So hot that the second you got out of the truck sweat would start trickling down the inside of your shirt. It was miserable and oppressive.
The particles of dust and pollen and high density air pollution of Austin would stick to your bare skin creating a light coating over you, like the world’s lightest windbreaker. It was hot and gross and made for a miserable 24 hour shift as there was no chance a supervisor would take your truck out of service in order for you to take a shower, no matter how invigorating it would be for the staff.
In short, it sucked.
So as we left the hospital we drove well over the speed limit trying to get back to station. Our hope was to get at least an hour off our feet along with a proper bathroom break. But alas, the EMS Gawds had other plans for us.
“…priority 2 GSW at…” chimed over the truck radio.
My partner quickly mapped the call on our MDC.
“Shit, it’s ours. Turn right there and pull over quick for us to stage. This address is only a few blocks away.”
Staging is when you delay arriving on scene by parking a safe distance way from the call address. This is done when the scene has not been deemed safe for first responders. Once the police, or whomever is the lead entity on scene, ensures all life threats have been mitigated all other responders can come to the scene.
So my partner Terry and I parked a few blocks away, put our ballistic vests on, and waited for the cops to clear the scene for us. The time it takes for the police to clear a scene varies. It depends on the threat in question. I’d say the average time staging is around 7 minutes. The longest I’ve waited on a scene was 90 minutes at a hostage call, the shortest was this call.
Even before we could get out to put on our vests, the fire department declared over the radio they were making entry on scene. One of the largest issues with having EMS and fire separated and not working under the same management is that they don’t train together and they don’t follow each other’s protocols. That was what I identified as the worst problem the city of Austin has working against their public service entities.
This wasn’t the first gun shooting in which the fire department went racing in while the paramedics took cover. What’s puzzling is the fire department did not issue vests to their crews. These guys would just stroll in with no ballistic protection. This would then create more people on scene for the police to not only account for but to also protect.
Luckily, the violence around this call was over. The police made scene even quicker than the fire department and apprehended the aggressor. Terry and I rolled in, all geared up with no bullets to dodge. When we parked on scene we got out and took our vests off. Fire was making their way out of the home with a middle-aged woman. Her ear was bandaged. She seemed to not be cognizant of her surroundings. She was being led by her forearm, not resisting, like a child being led by their parent in a crowd. Her gaze would wonder every few moments. Her eyes looked empty.
“Here you go guys. We bandaged her up for you.” the fire officer told us as he handed the patient off to us. He immediately turned around and began walking off to his engine.
“Hey, would you like to tell us what happened?” my partner called out.
“Oh yeah, so uh, like, her husband tried to kill her.” the fire officer turned around and said aloud.
“Could you say that a little louder so the rest of the neighborhood could hear you. And while you are at it, could you read aloud her birthdate and social security number?” I asked the fire officer with a straight face.
“Tony!” my partner exclaimed.
Terry and I had a great working relationship. We balanced each other out. I kept her from losing her temper and screaming at patients or other first responders, she kept me in check from pushing other people too far with my sarcasm and wit.
We got the run down from the fire officer. What happened was the patient’s husband asked her to help him work on the kitchen sink. While he lay underneath looking up from where the garbage disposal should have been he called her over to look down the drain. When she came into view he fired off a single shot from a hand gun at her face.
The patient did not see the weapon, only heard the bullet fire and felt the heat of it shear through her ear lobe. As she fell backwards her body froze for a brief moment. It was just enough of a pause for her to regain her composure, stomp on her laying husband, and run out of her home and call 911.
The combination of a foot to the groin and a fifth of cheap vodka kept the husband on the floor until the cops arrived. When they found him he hadn’t moved. He was sobbing quietly, refusing to make eye contact with anyone on scene.
I helped the patient on board the ambulance and began my assessment. She very calmly explained what happened. The story she retold was almost exactly as the fire officer had explained it to us. She had no complaints, no issues for me to address. Her ear was numb and her hearing was a little shot (hah! get it, shot?) Once I completed my assessment we sat on scene a while as the cops wanted to ask her a few more questions.
As we awaited for the cops, she began to tell me about her marriage. I did not want to listen as she was now making me privy to additional information I would have to record in my medical report. I knew the nature of this call would lead me to testify in court as the lead medic. Any additional information she relayed to me would need to be documented. The last thing I wanted was to be told anything else that would make me have to testify to more than the medical aspects of the call.
“Our marriage has always had ups and downs. We survived so many things. We’ve adapted, overcame, fallen, gotten back up. But these last few years, have been hell.” she said.
I remained silent. I didn’t want to hear what she had to say. But I knew she needed an audience. I looked up from my laptop and made eye contact with her. She didn’t need me to ask her to continue, just acknowledgement that I was listening.
She went on to explain her husband had been dealing with an addiction to cocaine. Through the years he would have episodes where he would go from clean and sober to casual user to full blown addict. He’d get counseling, go to rehab, kick for a while, then relapse. Her love for him never faded but, it never grew either.
There were never episodes of violence between them until the past few years. He would lash out during arguments and grab her by the shoulders. He would clutch her madly while screaming at her. This progressed to pushing, then throwing her to the ground. His violent progression pushed her away. It led to her deciding to leave with their kids.
She arranged for the kids to leave immediately. She elected to stay and pack clothing for them and herself. As the house was left to just her and her husband he called her into the kitchen to help him with the garbage disposal.
An ambush was farthest from her mind as she leaned in to look down into the sink. She was used to him erratically starting repairs in the house while high. This was no different than the times before.
She told me how time seemed to slow to a crawl when she heard the gun fire. She saw the flash from the shot. The echo created from under the sink cabinet vibrated in her ears. It did not stop, she could still hear it while speaking to me in the ambulance.
Her focus did not wain until the heat from the bullet shredded her ear. This is when she returned to reality. She realized she had been shot.
“I don’t know how we got to this point?” she said.
The police seemed to time their entry onto the ambulance just as she finished her tale. They asked her all the same questions she had already been asked by other officers on scene.
When they finished interviewing her we took her to the ER. When we called in our report to the hospital they seemed OK with us bringing her. When we got there they freaked that we brought them a gunshot victim.
Between the heat and having to ingest this woman’s awful event I was done. I ignored the ranting of the doctor and nurses and gave report. The second I was done Terry and I left.
We didn’t get a chance to talk about the call. The city wasn’t done with us as we ran straight until about 4 that morning. As usual, something that should have affected me didn’t due to the amount of stress my mind and body had endured by everything else that shift. The only times I’ve thought about that call was when I got subpoenaed to testify about it in court and this past weekend during our anniversary trip.
Her love for him never faded but, it never grew either.
I will never forget that. She did love him. And he may have loved her. But for whatever reason this couple was dealt a shitty hand. They didn’t get a chance to build on whatever it was that brought them together.
It makes me sad now. Now that I am far away from the streets I can let my guard down and allow myself to hurt for her. It also makes me grateful for the dedication and work me and my wife have devoted to each other. Love you Cathy.
Interested in becoming a paramedic and/or firefighter? Read this first.
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