We were out for our weekly rescue boat training and just as we were about to launch, a medical call came in that we were in the best position to take. We had driven the engine down with us in addition to the boat so we were able to respond, but I was dressed to swim with wildland pants over my springsuit and I wasn't going to take the time to change.
The call turned out to be for a woman on the grounds of the adult school who was sans pants and masturbating in public. Hooray. When we arrived we found a woman, fully clothed, walking across the lawn who then proceeded to lie down right where she was when she saw us coming. We approached and made contact with the patient who said she was here with her father. The only man in sight was sitting at the picnic table about fifty feet away. He looked to be about twenty years younger than her so I assumed she was making that part up. The man then got up, approached us, and identified himself as her father. Turns out she was just so haggard from hard living that she looked worn far far far beyond her years. She had no medical needs and her father agreed to take her home for the day, reign her in, and keep her out of trouble. This seemed like the best solution so we were able to leave it at that.
We returned to the dock and did our boat thing for a while. We ended the training session with some victim removal exercises with me being pulled repeatedly from the water into the boat.
As soon as we were done and got back on shore we got toned out for another medical call. I threw my wildland pants back on and off we went, this time with a decidedly still wet wetsuit on underneath.
This time we responded to one of the most stubborn diabetic patients ever. Well one of them anyway. The patient was alert and oriented but with a very high blood sugar and a couple other issues going on as well. They flat out adamantly refused to go to the hospital. Family had called 9-1-1 not the patient. Now low blood sugar is something we can treat in the field. High blood sugar requires the hospital. We could not force this person to go to the hospital or by ambulance but the family was very insistent. We stayed on scene for quite some time attempting to reason with the patient and offer all sorts of options, deals, etcetera to get them to go. All this while I slowly soaked through my shirt and pants. No one seemed to notice or care (or at least they didn't say anything) being too preoccupied with the frustrating situation at hand.
So, I am still inclined to say that, all in all, it doesn't matter what we wear on calls as long as it's the right gear for the job and we still look and behave professionally.
It just so happened that we ended the night by responding to a sheared hydrant with no shut off to be found anywhere and I wound up thoroughly soaked again by the geyser of water flowing from this thing. Kind of wish I'd been in a wetsuit then instead of turnouts.
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