Paramedics are life savers
Vicky Bates lives in Hailey.
By VICKY BATES
I hadn’t realized that it had become dark and cold as I stepped outside the old St. Moritz Hospital in Sun Valley. It was September and school had just started. The helicopter had just landed. It had been hours since my son Rocky had eaten a nut at a soccer practice and gone into anaphylactic shock. At first I thought it was his asthma and drove him home quickly for a treatment.
When he wasn’t improving I called an ambulance. When they arrived they gave him oxygen but nothing else. I wasn’t aware that the men had not been trained to be paramedics and couldn’t give him the life-saving EpiPen shot that would have kick-started his breathing. The oxygen helped somewhat as they drove slowly to the hospital, not knowing that my son’s body was shutting down.
When he entered the emergency room, he received an EpiPen shot, but in a few minutes Rocky said, “Mom, I can’t breathe,” and passed out. I said to the nurse, “Give him another shot,” but they said they couldn’t. (It would have been too hard on his heart). I got his small atomizer out of my purse and put it to his lips. I remember how the vapor just settled around his lips as if it were a cloud. He couldn’t inhale anymore and had passed out.
As he lay there unconscious, many doctors were called in to work on him. They all had children of their own and worked at a frenzied pace. I stood there rubbing his small feet as a hospice worker came in followed by a priest.
What did I need them for? Rocky had had many asthma trips to the hospital during this short 10 years and always pulled out of it, but deep down I knew this was very different. After a while, the doctor asked me to leave my son’s side and follow him down the hallway to a waiting room. We sat down. He looked me in the eyes and told me we were going to be air-flighted to Boise but he didn’t think Rocky would make it. You hear these words but somehow they whirl around in your mind and can’t seem to settle in your heart.
As we boarded the helicopter, I couldn’t hook my seat belt or close the door. Someone in an air-flight suit came around and kindly helped me. I was in shock. My son was placed in the back and as we took off friends and nurses stood in their carpool sweaters and nurse uniforms holding their hands up in a still wave or together as if in prayer.
I felt I was in a dream as the helicopter landed on the Boise hospital rooftop. There, hours later, my son would die.
That was about eight years ago and once again this community is talking about the expense of paramedics in the valley. The first 30 minutes are the most important, and if someone has a life-threatening incident such as a heart attack or my son’s anaphylactic shock, it is important to have treatment begin immediately at the scene. Many lives have been saved in the valley since we have decided to train and support paramedics.
Which brings me to this urgent letter. We never think this will happen to us and that it only happens on the nightly news and down the street. That’s what I thought, too, until one ordinary Monday school night we lost a son, a brother and a friend.
If someone asked you to give $10 or $20 for your life or your child’s life, you wouldn’t hesitate. Why are we questioning an increase now? It’s only a few lattés.
