Hemingway, the ambulance driver

Note: This entry was originally posted on a blog I created for my History of Medicine class final project during December 2012.

Hemingway in his WWI Ambulance

Doctors and nurses have lofty figures like Hippocrates and Florence Nightingale that they can point to as bastions of their fields, but as many medics lament, their field largely seems to lack famous names; instead, the field has as its media representation raunchy films like Mother, Jugs & Speed in the seventies and Paramedics in the eighties. Therefore, while visiting the Ernest Hemingway House in the Keys over Thanksgiving break this year, I was pleasantly surprised to learn on the guided tour that famous author served as an ambulance driver during World War I. You just don't get any better than Hemingway if you're wanting a culturally-respectable name to drop! (Although I'll admit that Hemingway's father was a physician.) Actually, I soon discovered that several literary figures served in that role during the war, including EE. Cummings.

The American Field Service and American Red Cross both ran volunteer ambulance services in Europe in World War I, although when the US entered the war in 1917, the former was rolled into the US Army Ambulance Corps.

Volunteering as an ambulance driver was actually a popular choice for upper class young men who wanted to take a part in the war, but either did not want to join the Army (which was beneath them or too dangerous) or who wanted to but were precluded due to health issues. In Hemingway's case, a poor left eye caused him problems. "I'll make it to Europe some way in spite of this optic. I can't let a show like this go on without getting into it," Hemingway explained to his sister.

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Somebody call a hearse!: the evolution of motorized emergency medical vehicles in the civilian US

Note: This entry was originally posted on a blog I created for my History of Medicine class final project during December 2012.

1958 Cadillac Combination Car © That Hardford Guy

The year is 1953 and a bad wreck has just occurred. One of the passengers involved seems to have broken his femur. A bystander who has pulled over to help yells, "Quick, call the funeral home! We need a hearse, stat!"

For many members of the public, the medic is synonymous with the ambulance, and understandably so, since a good deal of of the medic's work occurs within its walls. This vehicle, stereotypically a large box-like one replete with lights and the Star of Life plastered on every side (and sometimes even the roof so that critical care helicopters can quickly identify it!), represents hope. I've been on both sides of the ambulance story -- as an EMT rendering care and as a 16-year-old watching my father suffer a heart attack -- and I think it goes without saying that when you or your loved one is in the middle of a medical crisis, it is reassuring when somebody arrives on scene -- dressed in a uniform and wielding fancy equipment -- who can take the situation out of your hands and form a plan of action. However, once upon a time, the vehicle that responded to emergencies was perhaps the anti-thesis of hope and in fact represented, if anything, death: that vehicle was the hearse.

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