Thanksgiving is going great. Great, that is, until that pesky wishbone was missed, and dad is choking on it, again. So, you call 911, but this begs the question, how much do you know about me, the Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) coming into your home, into your house? And more importantly, what are some things I want you to know about me before I get there?

4. I’m not an ambulance driver, even if I look like one.

The most common gripe of EMS providers everywhere is that providers, EMTs most often, are referred to and believed to be nothing more than an ambulance driver. Though it’s true that part of my job description does involve driving an ambulance, that’s not all I do. Just as a math teacher is not just someone who writes “x” on the board, and a carpenter is not only someone who buys nails and carpet at the local hardware store. To the people that say, “Well, hang on a second there, Nick, there are people that do just drive the ambulance,” I say, you’re absolutely right! And those people are some of the best at their job. EMS is teamwork in hyper-drive, and after all, how else would we get you to the hospital? But as for me, the humble EMT in your local service, I am not just an ambulance driver.

3. I can’t be just around the corner when you call 911, but I’ll do my best to make sure it feels like it.

This is the part of the story where my boss skips to the next number (yes, I am talking to you, Jason and Ricky.) In all seriousness, an EMS service, especially a rural one, must meet more demands and calls for service than it most likely can handle at any given time. This is not to say that a child not breathing will not get an ambulance, but I won’t be where you normally see me, at the local station “just down the street” (here, I omitted the explicative and the anger that EMS did not arrive quicker). It is possible that this ambulance you called was covering your township, your neighbor’s township, and the township of that one lady you go to church with, but she’s standoffish so you just nod and walk past. That total area may cover 20 square miles or more. That’s a lot of space! And yet to think, even though Title 75, § 3105, subsection d of the PA vehicle code says that ambulances may not exceed the maximum “speed limit” signs posted on roadways, that ambulance made it to your house in 18 minutes, despite being 20 miles away. That’s an average of 55mph on backroads where the speed limit is normally 45mph or less! We put our lives at risk every day to get there as fast as possible. Trust me on that.

2. I appreciate your help, but I don’t necessarily want it.

Every EMS provider who has been working for more than a month has dealt with the following situation: we arrive on scene to find a patient and lo-and-behold, the helpful bystander. This helpful bystander may be a nurse, a doctor, another EMT, a nursing assistant, or someone’s aunt’s sister’s friend that once heard shoving a bottle of water into the patient's mouth will help stop a seizure. It’s nothing personal, but I probably don’t want your help. Why, you may ask? In short, because I most likely know nothing about you. Ask enough providers and you’re bound to find someone who had a bystander pretend to be someone they’re not. Whether they pretend to be highly trained, or pretend to be trained at all, most people want to help, so they beef up their credentials for EMS because they’d like to “be in on the action”. Now, that’s not to say there aren’t important things you can do. Telling me what happened is important, as well as telling me if the patient has a medical history. Those are vital for my provision of care, but leave me in direct care of my patient, because after all, I am responsible for this patient’s care. Also, the things we do in the field are designed for emergency care, and are much different than what you would find in a hospital or doctor’s office. So please, don’t get offended if we ask you to, “please, stand back.”

1. I don’t know you. And that doesn’t matter.

The truth is, I most likely don’t know my patients at all. I don’t know the first thing about them and sometimes, complete care happens, including delivery to an emergency room, and I haven’t even learned their name. I will probably stare blankly at my computer screen later trying to remember their name or their address. It’s not because they don’t matter, to the contrary, the mere fact that this person is my patient, who is also a brother, sister, uncle, grandmother, father, spouse, significant other, and most importantly, a fellow human stuck on this sometimes dreadful, tragic planet we call home is more important than who they are or what they may have done. The fact I am entrusted with your care is the most important thing to me, and causes me to take great pride in my job, and wills me to push myself to great lengths for you. I pursued EMS to help people, people like you, people I do not know, and that is the most important thing I want you to know. I care.