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Campus Starter pulls over a paramedic for some fast medical advice.
I hammer on the horn and blast the siren as my partner in the back of the ambulance treats and reassures a burn patient. “Everything will be alright,” I can hear him say.
And everything would be alright if I could just get this truck driver in front of me to pull his semi over to the side of the road. I look down at the pavement and I’m horrified to see what lies directly in front of me — railroad tracks. But it’s too late.
“TRACKS! THREE SECONDS!” I scream at my partner. When we hit, we hit hard. The jolt sends a shockwave through the ambulance and I can hear IV saline bags slap the cabinet behind me.
More equipment tumbles and spills and I can see my partner’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, glaring back at me.
The semi finally pulls over to the side of the road. My foot hits the gas and I’m desperately trying to remember the route to the nearest hospital, even though I’ve been there a million times. I know that if I can’t get it together, our patient is as good as dead.
Ahead of me is a big sign with an “H” on it, which beams down at me like some holy beacon of light. Glorious hospital dead ahead. Hallelujah!
Relieved, I bring our rig to a stop at the emergency ramp, rest my sweat-soaked body for a second and then get out. One look from my partner and I know the patient will make it. I give a snort of phony bravado and smirk at him. “I’m so damn good that I should be a stunt driver,” I say.
Welcome to my summer job. For the last two summers, I’ve been a volunteer paramedic in Stonewall, Manitoba. In addition to other summer jobs, I decided to work for my hometown’s ambulance service to help pay my university fees.
Although I am officially considered a volunteer, each member of the local EMS (Emergency Medical Services) gets paid a very small amount of money to be available on an on-call basis for 12 hours a night. When I respond to an emergency call, I’m paid a full wage according to my rank. Since I currently rank as a lowly EMR (Emergency Medical Responder), the pay doesn’t amount to much but when it comes to tuition, every dollar counts.
My situation is not unique here. Most rural townships in Manitoba depend solely on volunteers to respond to medical emergencies in their area. The exchange of so much time and commitment for so little money often creates staffing shortages, so university and college students usually enter the breach and take up the paramedic role in their community. During my initial emergency medical training class, no less than half the people there were also university or college students.
After about 100 hours of classroom instruction and ten ride-alongs in the ambulance, the paramedic is given a license and receives the rank of EMR. Of