Last shift just after our arrival on duty, we were dispatched to an auto accident on the freeway near the river. It was reported that a black Acura had gone out of control on the very wet pavement and had gone down a very steep bank and through the fence. With that much detail and with several calls to the 911 system, we were expecting to find a non-injured person sitting in their damaged car. When we got in the area, all we saw was a deep set of muddy tracks since it was raining hard all night and continuing to come down hard. Our curiosity dictated that we at least try to see where the car was, and we always want verify that no one was significantly injured.
After a bit of maneuvering, we managed to get onto the dead-end country road that meandered back along the river. The first thing we noticed, was the set of tracks came out of the cow pasture and appeared to head down towards the end of the dead-end road. As we followed the road it became extremely narrow to the point the fire engine was almost touching the fences on both sides. Just ahead, the trees became so overgrown, it was impossible to continue except on foot. At this point, significant alarms were sounding in my head. I really was wondering if I wanted to meet the person in a dark overgrown backwoods area who had just demonstrated a significant lack of socially acceptable behavior. I decided it was time to call for some reinforcements and we proceeded to back out the lane. As were traveling back out, it was noticed that the car had run off the lane and struck the fence at one point. It had left a door handle hanging on the fence, a mirror on the ground, and an Acura emblem just to underline our suspicions that the car was actually hiding out at the end of the lane.
The sad end to this story is that the real story might never be told. Once the police arrived, they were quite eager to investigate, since they had some known marijuana growing operations in the direction that the car had disappeared. We left the mystery in their capable hands and returned to quarters.
Just this morning, the medic crew returned from the hospital with another tale so weird. While at the hospital, they were asked to assist with a combative female psych patient. This is fairly common for ER staff to enlist the help of any able and willing muscle in such a situation. The guys found the staff attempting to hold down a large writhing woman. They jumped in to assist and each got ahold of a limb so that some medication could be administered in hope of calming the patient. As usual some merciful person thought that too much force was being used and that if they would just ask nice, the patient would be compliant. As usual, as soon as the restraint was released, the patient attempted to get in a few good licks before once again being restrained.
It is important to this tale to point out that the patient was a "cutter". This is fairly common in severely depressed people in that they regularly cut themselves. This behavior is not necessarily suicidal in nature, but they will present with many large cuts, primarily on arms and legs. As in this case, the woman had many wounds of various states of healing, from scars to open wounds and many with multiple stitches.
Back at the station, conversation reverted back to the mundane. At that point one paramedic asked the other, "What is that on your shirt?" In utter horror, the paramedic looks down to find a two inch long scab from the patient somehow adhered to his shirt. Needless to say, after the creepy shuddering subsided, the paramedic changed his uniform as fast as possible.
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