Any semblance of modesty disappears in a medical provider/patient relationship - for one of the parties, anyway. As a result, a lot of people get uncomfortable when they have to deal with a medical caregiver of the opposite sex. It just seems odd to reveal potentially intimate details of our lives and bodies with one of "them."
Although I personally never had that hangup; I understand that some people do.
I have always figured that the medical folks really don't care about what I look like. Nana used to say, "Don't worry about it. If they've seen it before then it's no big deal and if they've never seen it before they don't know what it is."
My belief, and Nana's saying, were proven during my time working in EMS. A patient was a patient. It didn't matter if they were male or female, fat or thin, black or white, rich or poor...
You get the idea.
Each patient encounter was merely an instance of someone who needed medical attention meeting up with someone who could provide it. I never really paid attention to how they looked or anything else that didn't impact my care for them. The "other stuff" simply didn't factor in to my reason for being with them. In fact, such thoughts could prove to be a major distraction if I actually paid attention. I think most medical providers; whether pre-hospital, in hospital, clinic or any other situation would say the same thing.
Perhaps nothing exemplified this more than a patient I encountered after a serious automobile accident. As the ranking EMS officer on scene for our department, the Incident Commander assigned my crew to a young lady who had suffered very serious blunt force trauma injuries. My crew and I rapidly began the task of caring for her.
While a lot of big city EMS crews are moments away from definitive trauma care, we often had long transport times which required us to complete detailed assessments that might otherwise be delayed until the patient reached the hospital. We used the phrase, "Make 'em naked," to refer to the practice of cutting all of the patient's clothes off when they had sustained significant trauma, particularly when it involved head injuries that affected their ability to communicate with us effectively.
This patient certainly met all of the criteria so we set about cutting off her clothes and completing a detailed assessment as soon as we got her into the privacy of the ambulance. The assessment revealed a number of serious injuries, including head injuries.
I was stationed at the patient's head overseeing her care. Like most head injury patients; she was extremely combative, which made managing her airway and cervical spine quite difficult. It became my primary focus to manage her airway and deal with her violent attempts to break free from the immobilization devices we had employed
She was also quite verbal. She screamed at me and called me every name in the book throughout our assessment, transport and continued involvement in her treatment at the hospital. She even called me some names I'd never heard before; and I thought I had heard them all. I'm not sure if she was swearing at me in a foreign language or just making up words, but I was thrilled to have a screaming patient instead of a comatose, or worse, one.
I ended up staying with the patient for quite a while since the hospital's ER was swamped with multiple patients from this incident. I stayed at her head throughout her ordeal; speaking to her in an attempt to help calm her. I imagine I had spent at least two hours with this patient from my initial contact until the ER doc had determined that she was stable enough to release my crew from her care.
I went on my way as I did after every call; cleaning up, finishing paperwork and readying the rig for the next call. That call became just one more in a long list of calls I had responded to. There was nothing particularly unique about it to make me think about it again.
Several months later, though, our department was hosting our annual Open House as part of Fire Prevention Week. I was standing around doing the typical public relations stuff we were required to do at these events when I was approached by a stunningly beautiful young lady.
And I mean stunningly beautiful.
She came up to me and asked, "Are you Scott?"
"Yes," I replied.
She said, "I understand I owe you an apology."
I had absolutely no idea who she was. My mind was racing as I tried, without success, to place her. She was a woman I certainly wouldn't have forgotten; especially if I was expecting her to come apologize to me for something. I'm sure there was a rather awkward pause as my mind came up blank.
"Pardon me, but I'm not sure what you're talking about."
It was then that she told me who she was. She said the hospital had told her who brought her in and she came to visit when she heard we were having an open house. She proceeded to apologize, to which I truthfully replied that none was necessary. She certainly hadn't offended me and I was glad we were there to help her when she needed it.
After a short conversation she said, "They told me I may not have fared so well if you all hadn't taken such great care of me. Thank you." With that, she gave me a hug and left. I was immediately swarmed by a number of the other guys in the department wanting to know who she was and why I hadn't introduced her to them.
As she walked away, it really hit me - I was so focused on her care that I never even noticed anything else about her.
For the couple of hours we spent together she wasn't a stunningly beautiful young woman. She was merely a young woman who needed medical attention and I was a person trained to give it.
Having her come back to thank us was a big deal. Not because she was beautiful, but because she was proof that for at least one person; I was able to make a difference.
None of the other stuff mattered...
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