We had an unplanned but very welcome visit by the Harvard EMTs last Saturday night, March 8. And now I am another Harvard resident who has experienced their caring, neighborly professionalism. It was scary as I lay on the floor unable to move without waves of incapacitating dizziness, but as soon as the EMTs began securing me into the special chair in which they took me downstairs I felt better—not physically, but reassured and, somehow, safe. In the warm ambulance they kept very busy but also kept talking to me. I was aware of them real close on both sides, working on me, talking on the radio to Nashoba, talking in special compressed vocabulary to each other. As I wondered if my problem was cardiac or neurological, I simultaneously knew I was in good hands.
I have gone into a little more detail than the usual heartfelt letter of appreciation because I was, and remain, struck by the emotional aspect of the experience: during this frightening episode, it felt very good to be in that vehicle with those EMTs. And for that, too, I am grateful.
It turns out that I had experienced a sudden drop in blood pressure, due to exercise and then stretching in a warm shower. (No more of that risky behavior for me.) Nothing cardiac, nothing neurological; a few pints of IV fluids and I was fine. But nobody knew this—very much including me—when the EMTs were hustling me down my winding stairs and rushing me down Route 111 to the emergency room. I felt as if they were trying to save my life, if it came to that, and I feel that if my life had depended on what they did, I would be writing a version of this letter now, even more grateful.
Billy Salter
Elm Street
