The inside of an ambulance is one of those exclusive places, like a jail cell, that no one really wants to see. Until a couple of weeks ago, the last time I rode inside a siren-mobile was when I was four years old. (I learned the hard way that I am deathly allergic to seafood, so please do not throw squid at me now that you are privy to my Achilles’ heel).
Fast-forward 20 years to Feb. 25, 2006. Leaving my Plaza-Midwood home at 10pm, I realized I had just locked the front door while leaving my keys inside the house.
I glanced across the street to where my landlord lives and noticed her lights were on and her car was in the driveway. Since it was a Saturday evening, I decided to leave a voice mail instead of knocking on her door. My roommate had just left for Concord and wouldn’t be returning until Sunday night. Instead of politely requesting she come back to let me in, I text-messaged her my predicament (she’s perpetually out of minutes and can’t take actual calls). With text messaging, you can’t accurately convey mood and urgency without the aid of superfluous exclamation marks.
I was on my way to meet some friends at Creation, which is only about a mile from my house, so I decided to walk it. Once inside, the barkeep supplied me with free beer. I’m not sure why, but after a couple more libations I caught a ride home. I figured since I couldn’t get in the house, I could just rough it and sleep on the porch.
It was cold. After trying various warming techniques like jumping jacks and simulating a heater with my breath, I gave up. I needed to get inside the house. So I found a jagged rock and smashed it against a windowpane on the back door. Ignoring the laws of physics, I failed to predict that my hand would continue through the window with the rock. I also assumed that once shattered, the glass would magically disappear, or would go away in a neat and orderly fashion.
This is how I got my inside view of an ambulance.
My hand was sliced and bleeding pretty badly. I wrapped a dish towel around it. Before long, the towel turned red, signaling it was probably a good idea to go to the hospital and get stitches. I called Crown Cab (see other article) and tried to sweet talk the dispatcher into getting me a cab pronto. I told them I was VIP and knew the owner P.K. Thirty minutes later, no cab had come. I called a few other cab companies, and they hung up on me. (Never tell a cab dispatcher you’re bleeding. According to EMT Cindy Rivera, they will never dispatch a cab for bleeders.)
Then I began to wonder how much blood I normally have in my body and how much I probably had left. Once I started contemplating that, I got dizzy. I called 911 and tried to get them to make a cab company pick me up. They couldn’t, but they offered me an ambulance. I agreed, but only on the condition they turn off the sirens.
At about 3am a fire truck and ambulance came cruising down the street. Six men greeted me with skeptical, what-the-hell-do-you-need-an-ambulance-for looks.
I should have told them I had this Urban Explorer assignment to go inside places most folks don’t get to see. The ambulance has a stretcher in the middle, but it may have been a bit melodramatic to sprawl out on it for a minor skin abrasion. I sat in a chair instead and didn’t buckle my seat belt. I don’t think there was one, but I assumed if anything happened, I was already in the ambulance, so I would be OK. Around the sides, the ambulance is stacked with medical equipment like a defibrillator (in case you have a heart attack en route).
At the time, calling an ambulance didn’t seem like a bad decision. But the next day, I found out ambulances aren’t a publicly funded social service. Depending on mileage and services rendered, an ambulance ride can cost you a couple thousand dollars. Mine was a bargain. Just $560 (although insurance is helping with a sizable chunk).
EMT Rivera says most people believe ambulances are free, like calling the police or the fire department. But she stresses that money should not be a factor in your decision to call an ambulance. So if you’re hurt and want to see the inside of an ambulance like I did, the number is 9-1-1.
This article appears in Mar 8-14, 2006.
