"Fritos"

If you like Fritos...and would like to KEEP liking them- you should probably not read any further. Unless of course, now your curiosity is sparked... If so, just keep in mind you will never look at another bag the same. In fact, it may behoove you to just go buy some; eat them and savor the last "Happy thought" attached to them as you swallow.

There are few things in our field that get to us. Usually, it is something that in ordinary every day life- wouldn't cause you to bat an eye. However, we work in the Land of "the little things make you vomit"... It's like- being pregnant and this little thing kicks in your morning sickness. More often than not, these "Little things" become and are best associated with things that we love...or, well.. USED to love. From this point on- We can never look at them the same.  And, as it WOULD turn out, we then get the privilege of encountering them even more often than before...*Wah...wah...WAAAAAAAAAH* (Sad trumpet music)

For instance: FRITOS...distinct taste, texture...S-M-E-L-L.

"BROHMIDROSIS" aka: "BROMODROSIS"- A chronic condition in which excessive odor, usually an unpleasant one, emanates from the skin... Like "Bad breath of the feet". Avoidable? Absolutely. 

We are taught to "Go to Skin". To bare the area the Patient is complaining of pain/discomfort/injury. In EMT training, no one ever prepares you fully, for the "added bonuses" that surprise you when doing so. Feet...a WHOLE NEW WORLD. I had only heard stories. This day however, I am proud (an disgusted) to say was the day I got to "Boldly go" where other poor noses had gone before. A place we all hope to avoid, but no matter how hard you try- can never escape.

My first "Foot pain". You would think it wouldn't be THAT bad, right?? HA! Silly you... It would be believed that these types of calls would be simple; ordinary; easily forgettable. I'll have you know, not everyone takes pride in stellar hygiene of the world inside the shoes. I wish I could give the general population lifetime gift cards for weekly Mani/Pedi's. One day...ONE day!

Code Red. Responding. On-scene. It's a typical wet and rainy spring evening in Latte Meca...damp, musty. I'm teching. We pick up off one of the many "Frequent Flyer" hot spots.Out front of the boat launch. We get the skinny- "47 year old guy...complaining of foot pain for 2 weeks. He can hardly walk, but we'll walk him over. He says he hasn't taken his shoes off in a week or so. We didn't look at 'em. He wants to go up to *Insert local ER here*. He's pretty soaked." Starring at the LT- eyes blinking *blink, blink* about "walking" someone who can "hardly walk"...huh. *SHRUG*...Our gurney has wheels last I checked. "And, whatever happened to "Going to Skin"?!" I say to myself in my head. Me- the New guy...(Oh, to be green again. LOL!!)

Anyway, they help the man to the stretcher- we'll call him Phil. He hobbles like all of his toes have been amputated. He is average build, scruffy face and his clothes are ragged and dirty with stains from the water creeping up from puddles created by good 'ole Latte Mecca rain. He looks yellow...his liver must be boycotting. He has an honest face...looks worn down though. The wrinkles around his eyes and brow do a good job expressing his having given up on the world. Sad. Wonder what his life used to be like. Everyone has a story.

He sits down. We cover him. Buckle him. Lift and load him into the back. I climb in. I think about the lingering hunger rumbling in my belly. He smiles through his discomfort, "Hey." He has kind eyes. I introduce myself, and get to his arm to get a BP. I ask him what caused the call to 9-1-1 tonight...he tells me it's his "feet". (All the stories start rushing through my head...the ones that I have heard from those that came before me.)  BP- check. Confirm demo's- Check. I smell Frito's...My nose starts to tingle...more so than usual with clothes this unfortunate. I write it off. We start driving. Phil and I chat about his feet. "I'm going to have to check 'em out, Phil. So, I can let the ER know what's going on.". Phil doesn't seem to be a big fan of this idea...he starts to get anxious. He tries to retract his complaint, "you know, they are fine. No a big deal. We can just wait til we get to the ER."  In retrospect, for my nose and future eating selections, might have been an awesome idea..."Go...To...Skin..." is all I hear, in the voice of my EMT instructor. I talk with him- we only have a few more minutes in the back, and I can't be the new guy that shows up oblivious. I don't wanna be the guy who "didn't look at this one patients feet who had foot pain..when they got him in to the ER, the Doc took off his shoes AND...his toes fell onto the floor!"

I pull back the sheet...as I get closer to his shoes...my eyes begin to tear. My nose is burning now. (This can't be good). Now the smell of those once beloved mini corn chips is rampant in the back of the truck...I turn on the exhaust vent...it's overpowering. Phil looks away. I begin unlacing his shoes. One by one. Shoe one- off. Now to shoe two...bad idea.  The corn chip powder is flying through the once clean air surrounding me. I reach for a mask. His socks are stiff..I reach for my trauma sheers. I tell Phil I will be cutting them off and that we will get him some clean ones at "ER of his choice". He nods in agreement. I start with sock one (since that seemed to be the lesser of two evils.) It's cut, peeled and off. Sock two- you're next...I am fearless as I start my first cut. More corn chip powder releases... HA! My N95 blocks it like an impenetrable fortress. Each particle bouncing off it's walls with a disappointed air about it's new path of direction.

Half way there...only a few more snips and I am down at the toes. I am almost home FREE!!! This isn't that bad...it must just be the socks. (Note to self folks- ALWAYS WEAR CLEAN SOCKS)

Just then, right as I make my last surgical slice of the once soft cotton turned bad...I see it. I can now smell it through my mask...SH*T, I must have lost my seal...great. I shift my glance to my partner- the scare of the anticipation for what comes next growing in my gut. I look to my partner, "Hutch" for safety...his eyes are locked with mine.

Hutch is slender, pointy nose with a love for "product" in his dirty blond hair like NO guy I have ever met before. Younger than I, though has more time in here...though we trained in the before time together. Sarcastic but a guy all the girls wanna date. Perfect teeth, big smile and boy does he win the lady's over!

I blink..and motion for him to come back to the land of the corn chip stank...His eyes roll. His is less than excited. Our blinker is on- I hear it. The Sick Bus comes to a stop...

Hutch opens the back door- fumbling with the finger slots of his gloves. (Sometimes those things can be tricky LOL). Great timing. I'm just peeling back the culprit responsible for bringing him back there...and oh was he in for a treat! As I force the toe of the sock back...I see something- something white. In fact, there seem to be quite a few. (Maybe his toes are just pruney...like when you stay in the tub too long? It IS raining heavily out.) Wrong. VERY WRONG! They're moving. *internal retching* At this point, Phil is starring just as intently as we are. However, my face being the closest- I'm glad that my mask and goggles hide the sheer terror I am sure I am expressing at the moment, on my face. Hutch can't help but to blurt out, "SICK!! Are those MAGGOTS?!?!" *My soul just died...seriously* I shift my glance up to Phil. His head is now leaned back onto the gurney...deeply breathing. He must be in as much disbelief as we are. His color seems to have shifted some from straight Jaundice Yellow, to more of a grey...I think about grabbing a vomit bag...for all of us.

MAGGOTS!!! In your shoes, well- socks... In between your toes!!! How does that even happen?! I mean, yes- technically they serve a good purpose: to eat dead tissue. Sadly, a few toes are black...he's gonna lose 'em. Guess him hobbling up to us like his toes had been amputated was really a practice run- sort of.

So they are trying to help, right?! I keep telling myself that to keep from losing my interest in food. But, no doubt about it- me and Frito's? Just became enemies...for LIFE. Feet already have the potential for stench...but who woulda thought- Rotting, damp, and dirty feet = Frito smelled Maggot fest.

Enjoy you're next bag!! ;-)