Warm and Fuzzy

Most of the paramedics I know and have worked with can attest to the stress of caring for young patients. Responding to kid calls with very few details, your experience kicks in expecting the worst. Recalling a commitment from the tales in RUNNING REDS, I promised a kid story. It’s time.

A panicked child’s cry or tone of voice from fear or pain can evoke strong emotions from any medic. It’s natural to have the “that could be my kid” thought creep into every responder’s mind as you navigate your assessment and treatment. Finally, seeing an injured child who cannot comprehend what is happening to them is often tricky, sometimes impossible to explain or rationalize to the patient or yourself.

Calls to supermarkets are not unusual. There have been: slips and falls, a butcher with a deep wound from a knife, an elderly patient lost and confused due to aging. Paramedics remember the runs from their past. But a kid trapped in the front lobby of the store, that one had me buffaloed. The third-party details shifted my imagination into overdrive.

Arriving lights and siren is standard for a vague call in a public place. The small crowd blocking our view inside the lobby didn’t surprise me either, keeping the suspense afloat. As a genuine catastrophist, I expected a car lodged through the front doors and mayhem prevailing. Nope, a quiet group watching a father hold his kid’s hand as we approached with our kit.

Curiosity is like a magnet for kids. Who could resist checking out the gum and peanut machines in the lobby on the way to a boring shopping excursion? I won’t deny it. I have twisted the silver handle on the front of the machine, hoping a treat would roll out into the cup. Better yet, running the wheel around searching for an abandoned coin.

Our young explorer went one step further. With nothing to show for his effort, the four-year-old stuck his forearm up into the chute, hunting for one of those giant jawbreaker treats. The large opening seemed just big enough for his little arm. That was until he turned his hand, pinching it in the mechanism.

The store manager and a clerk were on the scene before we pulled up; I wondered if they were more concerned about liability than injury. Oh well, time to get to work. Dad was calm, talking to his son and assuring the child’s siblings they would be shopping in a few minutes, a positive sign.

Asking the staff to find some vegetable oil or dish soap fell on deaf ears the first time. I had the problem figured out, my coworker nodded in agreement. This was “make it up as you go along” day. The fellow left to find the dish soap as customers wandered by while we waited. Some shoppers smiled; others looked puzzled, probably wondering why we were not being assisted by our fire rescue friends with the Jaws of Life...lol!

As upset as our victim was, he remained still, unable or afraid to remove the trapped appendage. That was likely a good thing if a sharp edge was hidden in the machine’s inner workings. There was no blood yet, no sense making bad things worse.

The manager returned with some dish soap. I wondered if he brought the cheap brand or the product with superior grease-cutting strength. The kid changed from a calm, quiet state to a slightly fearful look in his eyes when I explained we were going to squirt him with the yellow stuff. I remember that feeling from my childhood, although mom used bar soap when I swore at my sister.

The clerk who initially spoke to the child disappeared after handling the emergency like a mother. At the time of this call, my own daughter was the same age; I could see her doing the same thing and knew I could keep my cool; definitely a learning experience.

The first squirt of soap was a failure. I couldn’t get enough pressure to send it up inside the silver chute. Once there was some air in the plastic dispenser, bingo! The look in the kid’s eyes told me our victim could feel soap on his hand, and with a couple of twists, the trapped limb was out, though there was no reward in his fist for all the trauma.

A sticky hand was all the young lad had to show for his efforts until the clerk, still behaving like a mom, showed up with treats. Coming directly from the bulk food section, plastic bag in hand, she offered several brightly coloured, giant jawbreakers for the three kids now in tow with their father. My paramedic’s inside voice shouted… “what next, an airway obstruction?” The curious tyke wound up in the seat on the shopping cart, likely a control measure to avoid a second incident.

The whole adventure was over in a few minutes; no harm, no foul was my decision. Any good basketball referee would agree. The family disappeared as we thanked the clerk and manager. Future calls with kids had me remembering, often wishing for that bubble gum machine outcome.

Paramedics, healthcare workers, and dispatchers feel extra strain when responding to and treating children; we all reach deep into our hearts for strength and composure.

Successful outcomes with kids always put a great spin on your day, leaving caregivers with that warm and fuzzy feeling.