ROBERT GARDNER -- The Verdict

There are precious few fields in which I consider myself an expert to the

extent that I can offer advice. One of the few fields on which I can

offer advice is that of the paramedics -- particularly the difference

between paramedics in Newport Beach and those from Santa Ana.

I have had experience with both and can advise my readers, though few

they may be, that from a fiscal standpoint, Newport Beach is preferred.

In Newport Beach, when a 911 call brought the paramedics, who then took

my wife to the hospital, I was charged $600. In Santa Ana, the same

service and the same trip costs me $800.

I think the difference is that Santa Ana paramedics get combat pay

because of the numerous calls they get to service those shot in the gang

wars from which Santa Ana suffers.

I well remember in World War II, when you left Hawaii and headed for some

island such as Saipan, you received combat gear -- a trenching tool, gas

mask, canteen, a first-aid kit -- and your salary jumped. Probably the

same situation.

My experience with Santa Ana paramedics was rather interesting. I was

trying a case in Superior Court in Santa Ana. Suddenly, I had a simply

awful pain in the stomach. My court clerk pushed the 911 button as she had been taught to do. Shortly thereafter, a squad or a company or a

platoon of paramedics crowded into my chambers.

Most of them just stood around and looked at all the law books on the

shelves of my chamber. However, the chief medical guy was made of sterner

stuff. He began to ask me questions about my heart attack. I told him

there was nothing wrong with my heart, that it was my stomach that was

giving me trouble.

However, he was so accustomed to answering heart attack calls with men of

my age that he insisted on asking questions about my supposed heart

attack, such as when I first had chest pains and how frequent they were.

I kept telling him that my problem was in my stomach. Finally, I got

tired of answering his questions and just looked out the window.

He said, “Why won’t you look at me when I ask you a question?”

Frustrated, I snapped, “Because you are ugly.”

As it turned out, that was not an appropriate answer. Within seconds, I

was strapped to a gurney, placed in an ambulance and taken to the

hospital -- where it turned out the problem was with my esophagus.

In comparison, when my wife was ailing and Newport Beach paramedics

responded, they asked questions, listened to the answers and nailed the

diagnosis.

The moral of this story is that if you are in Santa Ana and feel the need

of a paramedic, run like hell to the border of the city of Newport Beach.

You might save yourself $200 and get the right diagnosis.

If you can’t get out of Santa Ana, learn from my example. Don’t be a wise

guy. Give the man an answer he wants -- unless you want a quick trip to

the hospital.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge. His

column appears Tuesdays.