The day I mooned the Mayberry Baptist Church (an un-FART)

I apologize in advance, for there is a lot of back story to get through to reach the meat and payoff in this tale. This was originally written for another board, so I have to re-tell the obvious.

Two years ago, I had a gastric bypass and lost 130 lbs., which enabled me to handle becoming a firefighter and EMT. Over the last few months, I've let my dietary discipline slack, and I've gained back 25-30 lbs. Not enough to get in the way of the physical activity, but enough that my diabetes and blood pressure problems have come back a little bit. After a good butt-chewing by my doctor, I promised I'd behave myself by re-losing the weight and getting everything put right.

 

My wife had a double knee replacement late October, and as I write this, she's been either in the hospital or a rehab unit for 2 weeks and change. With that much time available as a bachelor, I cleaned out the fridge and pantry, and went back to my diet with a vengeance. I haven't bothered to jump on the scales, but I've lost enough weight already that my belt had to tighten a notch. Most of the time, That's A Good Thing.

  The other point to make warming up is that I'm a Lutheran, living in a county where you can count non-fundamentalists on two hands. I go to a church in an adjoining county, and frequently show up there in nice blue jeans and a nice shirt.

  So to the story. I was on the way home from church in Betsytown Sunday, contemplating stopping by the rescue station to pick up leftovers from the previous day's fundraiser, when there was a page for a man at the Mayberry Baptist Church having passed out. I had just finished a shift before heading to Betsytown, so I knew there was no one pulling duty for the day, and I was 5 miles out and headed that way; I called in.

  About a minute later, my fire chief gets on the radio and says that the patient came around and was declining treatment and transport. Well, OK, I won't pick up the unit, but I still want 2 more quarts of that Brunswick Stew we were selling, so I stopped. Just as I was getting ready to go out the door, the phone rang. It was the patient's wife. We'll call her Patsy; she's part of the emergency service structure, and well known enough that I can't even say in what manner in order to protect her husband's privacy. This is what we consider to be a 'family' call.

  Her husband had passed out again, and she was frantic. "He's going to the hospital on the ambulance before I kill him myself and put him in the morgue!" I rolled, praying someone would answer the call, since I needed a partner. Soon enough, I hear that Chuck, my assistant fire chief, was going to meet me at the church.

  I pull up, and Chuck is out front waiting. I parked, and started gathering my stuff. I carry a large hand radio, along with a fire pager and my cell phone. A lot of weight on my loose belt…

  The patient was lying on the floor with a suit jacket under his head, and 4 or 5 good Baptist women were gathered around him, fanning him with their church bulletins. Everyone was dressed in their stereotypical Sunday best, and here I was in blue jeans…

  We loaded him onto the stretcher, and I felt a bit of a breeze in back as I lifted him up. I did a real quick tuck, and we carried him out and loaded him into the unit. Getting in the ambulance is two large steps, and as I went up, I first felt another breeze, and then a wedgie (!). My head whipped around to see Patsy hiking my drawers for me. "Bob, be a little more careful next time…" I also saw that a large chunk of the congregation saw this happen, including about 1/3 of my fire station. If I wasn't so intent on working on Patsy's husband, I'd have been embarrassed.

  His vitals were mostly good, but his blood oxygen was too low. We put him on oxygen, and it came up quickly. No problems with him during transport, but I was almost T-boned near the hospital when some self-absorbed moron decided he didn't have to yield to lights and siren.

  The scary part was after we got him inside and turned over. Chuck and I were talking to Patsy, and she told us that when he went down the second time, a cardiac nurse in the congregation found no pulse or respiration, and she started compressions while Patsy did old-fashioned mouth to mouth. Three compressions re-established a pulse, and he came around.

Hey, the mooning sounds secondary and you had some good,..hmmm,..dare I say,... back-up. Sounds like you did a great job and if God lead you there for brunswick stew, the bottom line is,...you went and helped save a life.  Great experience. You inspired me with the long term post-op re-gain and effort to re-lose, the success, the story, and the all too common unwilling to wear the right size clothes because we don't believe we are really being succssful. Thanks for sharing this multi-tiered success story. The journey continues....... 

anything the Lutherans can do to loosen up those Baptists is a GOOD thing. I'm a Lutheran Pastor, and I've got your back, so to speak. way to go!

Hey Bob,  I feel your pain there.   My most embarassing moment as a medic actually occurred pre-op.  Mid-dhift of a very long day, I had gotten pretty funky and needed a shower in the worst kind of way.  Throwing the "official" uniform in the washer and keeping my old stand-by jumpsuit close at hand, I jumped in the shower just long enough to get well soaped before the tones dropped.  A quick towel off and it is only then that I realize that there are no clean undergarments to accompany my jumpsuit. Long story short, pretty simple fall patient who still needed to go with full spinal precautions,  I squat to pick up the back boarded patient and RRRRIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPP!!!!! THANK GOODNESS my chief was kind enough to ride the call in to the ER so I could go back to the station.  Dispaying the jewels to a bunch of looky loos on scene is one thing but going to the ER where everybody knows your name would not have been a proud moment. All that aside, congrats on getting back to your healthy regimen and loosening up the belt again.  Keep up the good work on yourself and in service to your fellow man.  We are a rare breed, THANK GOD!!!