Steven Velásquez - Granting "Sirenity"

By Steven P. Velasquez September 6, 2010 This past weekend, as you were doing your daddy-funded, weekend bar crawl, you had occasion to actually look at me and acknowledge my existence (a rarity). You see, more than likely, you do not who I am, what I do or how my existence is actually of benefit to you, while the inverse is untrue. I am a Paramedic. The truck you see me in is a Mobile Intensive Care Unit; some say “a hospital on wheels.” That may be a little extreme and I won’t debate semantics but I’ll say I bring a very specialized part of the healthcare system to your doorstep, your college dorm or whatever bar you finally pass out in during your parentally unsupervised stay in my town. My partner and I were parked in an empty lot when two of your fellow school mates lacked the intelligence to resolve their differences verbally. As they removed their shirts and assumed a combat stance, you looked to us in despair wondering if we were going to spring into action and save the day...

by Steven P. Velasquez August 31, 2010  This note was originally posted in a group of Jersey City Medical Center EMS employees.  Today, August 31 is the birthday of Robert Dominick Cirri of the Port Authority Police Department who was also a Mobile Intensive Care Paramedic here in NJ.  I offer this to Bob's family on his birthday to remind them of how loved he was/is and will continue to be.  Happy Birthday Bob!  May I look upon your countenance again some day. **************************************************************************** Bob was one of the first Paramedics I had ever encountered. I was 18 when I got in the game and volunteered in Union City, NJ. I used to remember him as "the guy who looked like Sly Stallone." Sounds goofy but hey, it was the 80's and I don't think that was an insult. Of course Rambo XII and Rocky XXV hadn't been released yet. I guess we all need to make money right? Bob struck me as very competent, but the...

by Steven P. Velasquez, NREMTP June 10, 2010 A four year-old boy in the 1970’s visits the Asbury Park boardwalk with his parents. A day of rides, games and salt-water taffy turns sour when the boy gets a splinter in his foot and is in terrible pain. The parents, not knowing where to go, take the crying tyke to a local firehouse and seek the help of the brave. Doing the best they can with what they have, which is what these people do daily, the firefighters remove the splinter, clean the wound and dry the boy’s tears. To speed the process, they let the little boy wear their turnout gear and helmet as he lives out a childhood fantasy and proudly rings the polished bell mounted upon the front bumper. Ten years later, on a cool October’s afternoon, the growing boy is on the phone with a friend. The cord (wired device used to connect the receiver to the telephone back then) wraps from the hallway to the living room where the boy is perched upon a chair when his best ...

Photo by: Diane Velasquez May 23, 2010 I was cleaning out my desk this morning when I happened upon a crumpled piece of paper covered with light pencil markings. Fortunately, a scrutinizing eye and attention to detail helped me realize that this was not another of my voluminous unpaid bills but a note of some sort from my daughter Nicolette. The paper was yellowed from age and exposure to light. It surprised me that the paper had survived previous cleanings. By the contents, I estimated this was written in the summer of 2006 as we were all anxiously awaiting the arrival of my youngest daughter Brianna Elizabeth. After washing away a face full of tears, I had to assure my now two year old that Daddy is ok. Many of us place pictures here on "face" book and that is one of the many reasons behind its enormous success. It's one of the reasons we don't have a social networking site called "word" book. It was Confucius that once said " a picture is worth...

By Steven P. Velasquez - NREMTP, MICP   April 4, 2010   A team of paramedics are dispatched to a nursing home for a person with respiratory distress. Upon arrival, they find a BLS crew moving the patient over to their stretcher. The patient is barely breathing on their own and is showing signs of poor perfusion as evidenced by their mottled, diaphoretic skin, their rapid pulse and extremely labored breathing where they employ all their accessory muscles to breathe. The paramedics prepare their advanced airway equipment and instruct the EMT's to begin bag-mask ventilations with supplementary 02. The patient's chart has yet to make its way into the room, so nothing is known about the patient or their history. A nurse walks in and states "this patient is here for hospice and has a DNR." After a deep collective sigh, the paramedic uncrosses their eyes and withholds the next logical question ("then why are we here lady?"). The nurse vanishes from the room an...

By Steven P. Velasquez Jan. 3, 2010 A few years ago, we responded to a ninety something year old female that had become unresponsive during a Catholic mass. Upon our arrival, BLS had gotten the patient out to the ambulance and were treating her appropriately. We began our assessment and treatment when through the side door, there appeared a priest. He asked: "Would you mind if we pray for her? We'll stay out of your way." My partners and I took a collective glance around the ambulance and could find no objection. He wasn't hysterical or obstructing care, so we let the priest and his partner climb in. Silently but audibly, the two gave the patient "Last Rites" (the last of the Catholic sacraments, necessary for salvation, before moving into the hereafter) and began reciting the "Lord's Prayer." "Our father, who art in Heaven..." The prayer began with the ceremony of the silent priests. My partner's voice suddenly joined, so...