Ambulance staff are used to being treated as Uber drivers but it’s never been this absurd
When Omicron crept in paramedics shrugged off reports it was a mild strain. We knew chaos was coming. New South Wales stats have confirmed our entrenched pessimism; the past four weeks have been the busiest in the 126-year history of the NSW Ambulance service.
The health minister and premier have issued pleas to the public to stop making unnecessary calls. NSW Ambulance is about to launch a “save 000 for emergencies campaign” to help battle the 50% increase in callouts.
Inspector Kay Armstrong addressed the record-breaking increase in demand by warning “we have a lot of exhausted paramedics out there” due to time-wasting calls.
In the last four days I’ve been called out to countless people asking for rapid tests, or wanting our opinion on the best testing sites. One man who couldn’t find a test said he was feeling too sick to line up for five hours. He requested we take him to hospital as he’d heard they routinely test all presentations.
Once tested he planned to leave hospital and get a lift home with his son, who’d follow in the car behind. I politely informed him he was abusing an already overburdened system.
We’re used to people using us as Uber drivers but it’s never been this absurd.
The testing bungle, and the refusal by the Morrison government to subsidise rapid antigen tests, means people are turning from anxious to desperate to know if they’re positive – even if it doesn’t change their isolation requirements.
Sometimes our patients greet us with complaints about wait times followed by a look of surprise and fear when we tell them they’re not sick enough to transport to hospital.
I never imagined when I joined this job that I’d be telling people who genuinely believe they are dying that they are perfectly fine to look after themselves at home.
Moreover, every patient we leave at home puts us at risk of personal liability as paramedics are now registered with AHPRA – the national health regulator – but it’s a risk we shoulder to reduce pressure on a health system on the brink of collapse.
While it’s great to inform the public about saving 000 for emergencies, simply calling it “time wasting” does not adequately represent the toll taken on us. Every callout requires a thorough assessment and extensive, detailed paperwork. You can’t just type “time waster” on your paperwork and move on.
Our energy and empathy are being exhausted; we’re suffering compassion fatigue. You may get a grumpy ambo at your door who has nothing left to give but don’t take it personally – that’s how we turn up at our own doorsteps. Just ask our families.
Last outbreak the biggest gripe was this excruciating but necessary PPE. This time around our concerns are far more insidious.
Calling it burnout would be putting it mildly, this now feels like a slow roasting.
We didn’t join the job for fame or fortune but the fact that we had to fight the NSW government’s proposed pay freeze while fronting a pandemic only added to the feeling our personal sacrifice isn’t understood or appreciated.
No other industry would expect their workers to accept a doubling of their workload on top of a massive broadening of scope, responsibility and risk without appropriate remuneration.
Paramedics are compliant, we keep our heads down and silently get on with the job, because we know speaking out could cost us our job. If frontline health staff spoke out it would fill the void of misinformation created when government messaging contradicts health advice.
We’re the ones caught in the middle, we’re living this. We are the everyday experts who are resigned to fate, now too busy looking for an escape to care too much about anything else.
I don’t know one person at work who isn’t formulating some sort of exit plan by leaving Sydney, leaving their role or leaving the job altogether.
This is true of brand-new trainees right through to management. We’re all re-evaluating. Talking to colleagues in the hospital, the same can be said for doctors, nurses, clerical and cleaning staff. Hardly a system coping, Mr Perrottet.
My annual leave has been postponed twice, I need a break. The fulfilment and pride I used to feel simply by making someone feel better is fading. I still do my best to show warmth and compassion but while I smile with my eyes, under the mask I’m limp. I’m torn between the job I love and the overwhelming urge to make a hasty exit.
We are standing at the precipice of a mass exodus of paramedics who are willing to turn their backs on their calling.
The loss of the most impressive, highly skilled and pre-eminent bunch of people I’ve ever met would take a toll on this state which no announcement about boosting paramedic numbers could ever replace; the human toll.
The writer is a paramedic in south west Sydney
The fact that we had to fight the proposed pay freeze only added to the feeling our personal sacrifice isn’t understood