The road is like an ice rink that hasn’t been cleaned by a Zamboni. It’s a good thing you are wearing your Fort Smith Boots in this sleet storm because the water and freezing slush and ice are treacherous. You walk carefully. The last thing you need is for you or your partner to go feet up in the air, head and butt slamming to the ground.
The man has dementia to the point he forgets that he called us. He forgets that he went to the hospital yesterday for the same complaint, forgets that they saw him and sent him home, forgets what they told him about it. “You were the one who called them,” his wife says, after he demands to know why we are in his bedroom.
Our primary job is saving lives, but we are also here to provide hope and comfort, and to be present to act in time of need. Showing a family that help was there, that everything possible was done, and then giving them time to gather and say goodbye to a loved one is something to be proud of. It is hard to measure its worth.
I think when it comes down to it, parents are more concerned with their children’s immediate health than with looking stupid for using the health care system inappropriately. At least that’s the way I leaned when it was decision time. I need to remember that when I’m the one wearing the stethoscope.