Glove Up

I stepped out of the rig on a call and the cop looked at my gloved hands and said:  "Good, you're set already."

The patient had something we didn't want to catch and the cops wanted to make sure that we gloved up.  Here's the thing, I always glove up.

Long before I know what the call is going to be, who the patient is or what the problem will be, I glove up.

Why?  Because it's our safety protocol.  BSI:  Body substance isolation, and the gloves make up the first items in my PPE:  personal protective equipment.

On a call, any call, I am number one.  My own safety and well-being is supposed to come before anyone else's - my partner, the patient, anyone.  Because if I get hurt, then I am not longer  part of the solution but have become part of the problem - some one who will need help, support and possibly rescue.

Those gloves were grabbed before I even opened the garage door of the squad.  They were on before I started filling out the address on the paperwork in route.  When in uniform, I have 4 pairs on my person at all times, plus I grab a set out of the box when the call comes in so those other 4 pairs are back-up.

When I showed up on that call, I didn't have to be warned by the police as I had already done what needed to be done to protect myself.  When you follow the rules, expect harm and are prepared then no one has to remind you - you've already done the right thing by protecting yourself.

The problem is when that mindset follows you into the rest of your life.  Some days I feel like I wear gloves in my relationships, something to put between me and other people to protect myself.  I envy those who are able to throw themselves into other people's lives with abandon.