Those of you who read Sean Eddy at Medic Madness are probably familiar with his Celebrity Medic series, in which he imagines what a celebrity or fictional character would be like as a paramedic. So, given the dramatic win last weekend and the upcoming divisional playoff game against the Patriots, Sean and Greg Friese have challenged us to imagine what it would be like if Broncos quarterback Tim Tebow were a paramedic. If you’d like to play along, consider this a meme. Drop us a link to your blog post in the comments.

Hey, Tim? Nice veins.

If Tim Tebow Was A Paramedic:

He’d have more code saves than any other medic in your system.

Of course, his detractors would point out that the reason is that Tim Tebow has more people die in his rig than any other medic in the system, because Tim Tebow struggles reading 12-lead EKG’s  and recognizing subtle patient presentations…

… but his fans would  counter with the fact that, once the patient is dead, Tim Tebow always seems to convert the patient to a perfusing rhythm on the first shock.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t happen until they’re dead!” his critics would retort.

“What does it matter as long as they go home neurologically intact?” his fans would crow. “A save is a save, baby!”

“Dude, the guy‘s a weak medic,” would come the counter argument. “He can’t read EKG’s, struggles with drug dosages, can’t remember the landmarks to do a needle decompression, breaks half a dozen teeth when he tries to intubate someone – “

“ –but gets the tube in when it really counts!” his fans would proclaim. “That’s what’s important, right?”

“Puhleeze. The guy has killed more people than smallpox.”

“He’s saved more people than Billy Graham!”

“Grim Reaper!”

“Johnny Gage and Roy DeSoto!”

“Dude, you’re talking about the guy like he’s an elite medic. Elite medics know cardiology like Tom Bouthillet. Elite medics manage an airway like Ambulance Driver. Elite medics are cool under pressure like TOTWTYTR. Tebow couldn’t stand on a stepladder and kiss those guys’ asses.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, how many code saves did those guys have this month? None, baby! Woo hoo!”

“That’s because those guys don’t let their patients code. They manage the call, so they don’t have to do any heroics at the end!”

“ Tim Tebow rules!”

“Tim Tebow drools.”

“You just hate him because he’s guided by the hand o’ Gawd!”

“I hate him because he gets the credit for every save, when it wouldn’t have been possible without the uninterrupted chest compressions done by his partner, or the prompt call to 911 by the patient’s family, or for the contributions of half a dozen other people. Nobody gets a save all by themselves. Resuscitation is a team sport.”

“TIM TEBOW WAS THE BEST EMT-B THAT EVER LIVED!”

“Yeah, but now he’s a medic. Everybody in this system was an awesome EMT-B, or they wouldn’t even be here. This is the pros, baby, and your boy’s game doesn’t work here.”

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK!”

“Not gonna happen. Maybe your boy might make a decent – I mean just decent – medic with a lot of practice and a few years. But he ain’t there now, and he doesn’t even deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as Rogue Medic, or AD, or TOTWTYR, or Happy Medic. “

“HERETIC! GOD SEES YOU, UNBELIEVER!”

“Blow me.”

[fisticuffs ensue]

And while the argument raged around him, Tim Tebow would keep on running calls and doing his best for his patients, because he’s Tim Tebow, and he’s a good kid. He’d recognize that he’s got a gift for the heroic save, but he’d also be honest and admit that he’s still nowhere near the medic he should be.

And nobody would outwork him in getting there.

He’d be humble and self-effacing to his fans, always deflecting praise to his teammates (and God), and he’d be gracious to his critics. And he’d make some serious gaffes, but he’d keep on racking up saves.

And after each one, he’d Tebow.

Naturally.

I've been teaching EMT's for years, and let me tell you, there's nothing so satisfying as that look of discovery on a student's face when the light bulb finally comes on. Instructors live for such moments.

The Borg has partnered me with green partners ever since I started here, and I try to impart a little of the experience and wisdom I've earned over the years. I mentor them, fill in the gaps in their knowledge, perhaps season them a bit, and ready them for paramedic school. Thus far, all of my previous partners are now medics, or currently in school. They've all been successful. I'm kinda proud of that, actually.

And since I'm literally old enough to be father to most of them, I sometimes get a little paternalistic, and teach some of life's lessons that have nothing to do with EMS; the things they'll need to succeed in life.

Like early this morning, for example, when I took the opportunity afforded by a slow Christmas Eve to teach Betty Rubble the most accurate -and most importantly, repeatable – way to bounce a quarter off a table into a Dixie cup. Hard to believe she made in through high school and a couple years of college without mastering that vital skill, but apparently she took different electives than I did in school.

You'd think the poor kid had never seen a man roll a quarter off his nose before.

In my city, when you're dispatched to the parish juvenile detention center, our GPS mapping software leads you to Chuck E. Cheese*.

True story.

* I'd say "directly to Chuck E. Cheese," but I don't think our route instructions lead you anywhere directly…

Bringing a patient to the ED just now, I noticed a trail of detritus and blood drops leading out the doors to the ambulance bay. Out of curiosity, I followed the blood drops and bloody footprints back to a room. In the hallway just outside the room, there was a half empty banana bag (a standard bag of saline with multivitamins added, making it look yellow), still attached to a 14 gauge IV catheter. Lots of blood drops on the floor in that spot.

When I rolled past the nurse's station with my patient, I casually mentioned, "Y'all know you just had an elopement, right?"

"Huh?" Four heads turned my way, including the ED doc.

"An elopment. Your obnoxious drunk from Room 6 left without permission, I'm betting. He was probably pissed, but not as pissed as y'all were at him."

"Go check," the doctor ordered, and the charge nurse scrambled that way. I chuckled and wheeled my patient to her assigned room, moved her over to the ED stretcher, and gave handoff report to her nurse.

"You saw the guy leave?" the charge nurse asked me as I rolled my stretcher back past the nurse's station.

"Never laid eyes on him," I grinned. "So, did he elope?"

"Long gone," he confirmed. "So how did you know he was an obnoxious drunk?"

"Not just an obnoxious drunk, but an obnoxious drunk that managed to piss y'all off," I corrected.

"That he did," the charge nurse chuckled. "But I'm just curious as to how you knew all that."

"Well," I answered, "Let's just say I've learned how to read the signs."

Joe Packowski on how EMS providers view each other.

Chuck Norris would be the perfect medical director, too. 

Evidence-based medicine? Pshaw.

Chuck Norris decides what is evidence, and science follows suit, baby.

Colorado Teen Injured Grinding Fireworks in Coffee Grinder.

A Colorado teen is recovering from serious burns he suffered when the fireworks he was attempting to mix in a coffee grinder exploded… The blast shook the house of a fire inspector who lives about a quarter-mile away.

Reading that, all I can think of is the rise and fall of the Nigerian space program.

… over at Medic Madness.

Unlike most EMS providers who respond to pagers and quick-call systems, Dr. House would be tracked down by his boss to inform him of an interesting call. For the most part, he would handle all of the critical cases. That is unless he gets in trouble. In that case, he would be assigned dialysis transfer duty for a duration decided by his boss.

He’d also have his “team” do an 18 lead EKG, CBG, cranial nerve exam, orthostatic vitals, spO2, rectal temperature, etCO2, NEXUS exam, MEND exam, field sobriety test, Cosmopolitan Magazine Couples Compatibility Test, paralysis and Train of Four monitoring, atropine and adenosine tolerance tests, a brief trial of transcutaneous pacing, check for rectal tone, sweep for priapism, internal vaginal exam, Mallampati scoring, a FAST exam, a polygraph, Rorschach and thematic apperception testing, and i-STAT point of care lab testing…

… for every single patient, regardless of complaint.

Because as anyone who has ever watched House, MD knows, his diagnostic method is throwing shit against the wall to see what sticks.

Because, you know, all patients lie. Sure, he says he has a stubbed toe, but it’s most likely a new airborne strain of Ebola.

A recent conversation with a friend:

Good Lawyer*: “Say, was I ever as sparky and idealistic as the EMS Newbie?”

Ambulance Driver: “Well, law school made you cynical before you were ever an EMT. But yeah, you were pretty damned sparky.”

GL: “Come on, really?”

AD: “Dude. Coyote Ugly, in Austin about six years ago. Remember the chick dancing on the bar with her boobs hanging out?”

GL: “Vaguely. You’re talking about the high chick?”

AD: “There we were, ogling a reasonably attractive, semi-clothed female dancing on the bar, with her rack exposed. And she’s already trumpeted the Texas Girl Mating Call, ‘I am druuuuunk, y’all!’ Remember what you said?”

GL: “Uummm…”

AD: “You said, ‘Did you get a look at her pupils? That chick’s high as a kite.’ Heck, at that point, I hadn’t even noticed that she had eyes, much less the size of her pupils.”

GL (defensively): “Well, you shoulda seen ‘em! Her pupils were huge.”

AD: “I wish to revise my statement. I didn’t mean you were sparky. You still are. Sparky McSparklemedic, that’s you.”

*So named because he’s a paramedic, too.

And no, that’s not a euphemism for masturbation.

I can see why one might think that, this being my blog and all…

I do, however, still reserve the right to use stroking the muskrat, fighting the turkey, choking the chicken, flogging the dolphin and wrestling with Pedro as my own personal code phrases for self-abuse.

Hat tip to Phlegmmy.