Strange but Familliar

The last thing I remembered was the sound of the wind rushing past me and subsequent ringing in my ears. Strange digitized voices trying to reach me through the constant rumble of what sounded like an airplane engine. When I woke up I was in a sunny, dry land but it was so cold. The topography was much flatter than I was used to with a pungent scent in the air. Disconcerting to say the least.

I made my way over to the Ambulance Dispatch Centre only to find it strangely similar but also strangely different. The equipment seemed the same, but the size and age of the centre were vastly different. Desks with adjustable keyboard heights at each station taunted me. The room was scattered with uneven soundproofing on the walls and a blue disco light over a few stations (to announce to the room when the position is on the phone).

Some of their practices seem curious to me. Repositioning ALS to an intermediate location rather than sending them all way to the event? When I asked about cross coverage for an area left uncovered due to call volume, I was told: “Cross coverage? Crews will clear long before a unit from another town would be in the area.” Hmmm. The distances between communities was astounding to me.

Transfers take forever and many of them involve a few airports to complete. Building multi-legged transfer events is the norm in this land – handing off the patient to three or four different crews was not unheard of on the way to their final destination.

One of the most consistent issues I noticed was in the practice of the locals stepping out of the room to visit the local celestially named brown java centre for a little wake up beverage. To be blunt: an Iced Venti cup needs a venti sized straw. I’ve seen them in the stores here; I know they have them.

The complaints were loud but increasingly less frequent and the morale seemed low at times. In the back of my consciousness I vaguely recall feeling the same – but that was in a bygone era. Rumours of big changes being needed by some while others are happy to come in a do their time. The desire for more staff was standard amongst the people of this land, but where would they put them? Every position was full before lunch time – and the staff continued to answer call after call after call. Yet, the phones only ring once or twice before they are answered.

It seemed like one in four calls was a transfer. The number of calls that didn’t immediately verify in their new Computer Aided Dispatch system seemed greatly exaggerated by the sheer size of their response area. They have hundreds of tiny little municipalities with names like “Strawberry”, “Blueberry Creek”, “Raspberry” and “Appledale” that the phone company doesn’t take into account when providing location data. It’s dizzying – and those are just examples of the fruit-based communities.

I am hoping that my coworkers in my home dimension recognize that I’m missing. I have tried to send word for them to be on the look out for a version of me with a goatee. That is the easiest way to spot the evil Nigiri.

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