going coastal

Lately, our shifts have been positively dead until dinnertime, when, inevitably, everyone decides they have an emergency at exactly the same time. Last shift, though, the poop started flying around lunchtime, and began with a call from a pediatrician's office asking if we might be willing to take a 20 month old who had inhaled an unspecified something or other up to the children's hospital in Biggest City. E, my partner (my new mantra is WWED?, or "what would E do?"), aka His Sage-ness, aka RevMedic (as he also is licensed to perform weddings, and has done so on shift, but that is another story. . .), had no problem with that, and so we prepared for the long drive Northeast-ward. The pediatrician eventually decided to send the kiddo by Life Flight, and as we assisted that team in packaging the little one, E said, under his breath, "I think I'm glad they're taking him." This kid was not a happy camper.
It seems that nobody can drive these days, including me. RevMedic frequently covers his eyes as we scream through intersections. But at least I pull to the side of the road in my POV when I hear sirens. . . I'm pretty sure someone's put stupid in the water lately, because getting to a call is harrowing, to say the least. Honestly! What is so difficult about "pull to the right and stop"?
We got a call to a supermarket for a seizure. . .guy was postictal, slobbering and gooey, attended by his brother, who apparently has no great love for modern medicine. Don't get me wrong, I'm a firm believer in naturopathic healing, too, but there can be a co-existence between that and allopathic medicine. But we got this patient's VS, recognized him as a previous seizure patient, and E started questioning the brother, who was, to say the least, a poor- and disgruntled- historian. Finally, E rolled his eyes, said, "whatever," and we tried to get the patient on the gurney. The brother went ballistic, calling us snake-oil peddlars, spouting some b.s. about how his sister or cousin or something was kidnapped by a psychiatric cult and he wouldn't let us take his brother to the hospital. . .what's a little seizure? Or two? Nothing he couldn't handle. . . Our patient is swaying on the gurney, and the store manager steps in. . . "these are medically trained professionals, and they'll take care of your brother, sir." Brother snarls, "yeah, trained by monkeys!!" and I'm praying The Reverend didn't hear that one. We get the patient in the ambulance and lock the doors, get our IV and another set of vitals before heading to the hospital, where brother is now strangely reticent, due, probably, to a conversation with police officers called to the scene to remove him.
I gave my notice last month, but my last day keeps getting drawn out. I don't want to leave this company- I love my co-workers, and have found some people near and dear to my heart over on the coast, but finding 24 hour childcare is next to impossible! My boss is scrambling to find some alternatives, and has given me much to think about. . .
Back to work tomorrow, then an on-call shift on Saturday.