Geoff Newton
I first met Geoff Newton back in my Whidbey News-Times days in the early ’90s.
I was a young Sports Editor with no college to my credit, making it up as I went along.
He was the larger-than-life photographer who took me under his wing, tried to teach me the ropes, and frequently shot me in the head with rubber bands when I wasn’t listening.
After we left the WNT, Geoff went full-bore into the medical field, and these days he’s a flight paramedic.
The following is his first-hand account from the frontlines of the coronavirus pandemic, which he allowed me to share with you.
I just finished up two weeks transporting patients in New Mexico and Arizona.
More than half of my flights were COVID patients.
We transported suspected, probable and confirmed cases.
Some of these people were critically ill and ventilator dependent, others on their way. Others just sick.
We treated everyone as if they were exposed or potential.
As I went through my hitch, it was hard not to start thinking about it.
All. The. Time.
So here are some thoughts as I try to decompress. Disclaimer: I have opinions too.
This virus doesn’t act like it’s supposed to act.
The average exposure to symptoms period is five days.
The sick patients are really sick. Wide-spread and diffuse pneumonia. They are profoundly hypoxic and refractory to high-flow oxygen.
We would make little steps upward on their saturations just to watch them slip back down.
BiPAP does not do anything except spray droplets. These patients need high PEEP and pressure support.
Their lab work is not what you would expect.
This thing is a scary beast. And the more I learn about it, the scarier it becomes.
Stop blaming the media for the frenzy.
This perspective will not be a surprise for those of you who know my background.
In one respect, the media is a reflection of the craziness of our society.
I mean, no one I am around admits to hoarding supplies, but someone is.
The big 24-hour networks wouldn’t exist if someone wasn’t watching.
But the media outlets sounded the alarm long before it reached our shores. The media, I believe, in part was responding to the slow reaction from our politicians who thought they knew better than the experts.
I know who the real heroes are (no, it’s not me).
It’s not the politicians. Or the CEO’s of big corporations.
Having worked on government contracts a time or two, I know a money grab when I see it.
The My Pillow guy is not a hero for finding a market and waving his bible.
No, it’s anyone in health care and emergency services.
I walked through an ICU last night filled to capacity with every patient on a ventilator.
IV lines running under the doors so that they didn’t have to don a hazmat suit just to adjust drip rate.
It’s a sobering sight.
Doctors, nurses, CNA’s, MA’s, RT’s, medics, EMT’s, firefighters — ouch, that hurt 🙂 — and even cops.
The front line is all around us. It’s hard to fight something you cannot see.
Every time I get a COVID transport I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Is my mask on tight enough?
Is this sweat-producing garbage bag I am wearing going to protect me?
What should I disinfect? Everything?
Every time you sneeze, cough, feel hot or cold, are not hungry when you should be, get a backache or headache you think, “Is this how it starts?”
I am allergic to sage, it turns out, so I have had a runny nose for more than a year. It is hard not to become paranoid.
And I can’t even imagine going home after my shift, wondering if I am bringing it home to those I love.
At least I have the luxury of washing EVERYTHING before I come home.
It is possible we are only seeing the beginning, or maybe not.
It is worth noting that it appears to be declining in the places hit first.
We just don’t know.
Health care is just trying to keep its collective head above water. Most hospitals look like war-time camps with little white tents, road blocks and plastic sheeting on the walls.
Some places are reacting more than others and some are slower to react.
The small hospitals are going to get, or are getting hit hard. Most are way out of their element.
And in the odd occurrence category: I had a guy in a pickup truck yell “thank you” to me as he passed by the other day.
I have no idea how he knew what I did since we look like janitors in our flight suits. But it was really nice.
So stay home if you can, have a drink and complain a bit.
But the next time you see a paramedic, EMT, cop, nurse, or ANYONE in scrubs, give them a hug … from a distance, of course.
You have no idea what is on their uniforms.
Coupeville Sports 