Life Support: Deconstructing Heroism

Did you see this story a few months ago?

Honeymoon Hero: Bride responds to crash

It’s about a Tennessee medic who stopped at a wreck on the way from her wedding. The patient turned out to be a family member who suffered “major bumps and bruises.”

The bride says she’s not a hero. I believe her. It’s not the “bumps and bruises” part that disqualifies her; it’s the danger to the rescuer, or lack of it. To be a hero, I think you have to face an outcome more onerous than a smudged wedding dress.

To me, heroism is a demonstrated willingness to risk one’s life for another. That doesn’t happen very often in EMS; yet our field is overstocked with novice responders who equate EMS with lifesaving, and lifesaving with heroism. I bet those unmet expectations hasten early retirement as much as bad backs and low pay.

Nonchalant anointing of heroes didn’t start with EMS; it’s part of a nationwide trend toward sensationalism rooted in news and entertainment media’s competition for your attention. As a result, our society often equates admirable behavior with valor worthy of kisses on both cheeks. Hero—once a meaningful term that evoked images of selfless sacrifice—has been overused to the point of having no more significance than great or super. If Clark Kent could even find a phone booth today, he’d have to emerge as Totally Superman just to compete with all the other “super” men and women.

Calling someone a hero on the six o’clock news is mostly an excuse for a provocative sound bite. I wish I were immune to such tactics, but I’m just as likely as anyone to look up from my smartphone when I hear the H word on TV. Suddenly I’m wondering who did what for whom. Game point to the talking head with the teaser.

Even if you’ve behaved heroically at least once, you probably don’t wake up every morning yearning to duplicate that feat. There must be something besides bravery keeping you in uniform. Can we distill your positive energy, your willingness to do this job without applause, into our own sound bites for our own people? Let’s try.

EMT Still Polite After 20 Years

Ralph K of ABC Ambulance routinely greets patients warmly and asks what he can do for them.

“Most are good people,” the EMT says. “They don’t know much about EMS; they just need some help. You shouldn’t be in this job if you don’t want to help.”

Paramedic Takes Classes Not Required

An Adams County paramedic confirms she signed up for sociology and psychology courses not because she had to, but because she wants to understand people better.

“There’s lots of stuff we learn in medic school, but it never seems to be enough,” says Susie C. “I just figured it was time to get into more of the science—what makes people tick, what they need, why they do what they do. Maybe that’ll help me take care of them.”

Dispatcher Puts Callers At Ease

When Frank M answers East Ogden’s 911 line, he’s supposed to use cue cards to determine the nature of each emergency. But callers don’t know they’re supposed to follow a script.

“Last night I took a call from an elderly woman with chest pain who asked if I knew when the next train from the city was due,” Frank says. “Her son was supposed to be on it. I found a website with the timetable and was able to answer her question. It was no big deal.”

Ambulance Boss Gives Employees “Mental Health” Days

Robin T knows what it’s like to need a break from EMS.

“I rode for 20 years before starting this company,” the owner of ABC Ambulance says. “Sometimes you just have to get away, even for a day. I’m pretty understanding about sick time when employees work extra shifts to help out.”

The world is so desperately short of real heroes, we accept all kinds of pseudo-courageous behavior as substitutes for the real thing. Sometimes EMS providers get caught in the middle— between heroic and dependable—because we’re an industry in search of a label, and America’s Finest is already taken.

We can give our rare, true heroes their deserved honors without overlooking the steady, compassionate competence of those who care for others every shift. More than heroism, that’s what everyone who watches the six o’clock news will need someday.

Mike Rubin is a paramedic in Nashville, Tennessee and a member of EMS World’s editorial advisory board. Contact him at mgr22@prodigy.net.