The Golden Hour
Filed under: General, Life, Medical Breakthroughs, Technology, War
If there’s one thing Israeli medics are good at, it’s first aid. As a result of battlefield experience over 60 years of war, chovshim, as they are called in the IDF, have learned how to treat serious injuries with few supplies under heavily pressure.
The lessons learned on the battlefield prove invaluable for major civilian emergencies as well, such as the tragic bus crash outside Eilat. Sixty Russian tourists on a junket to Eilat plunged off the side of a narrow, twisty road to a ravine nearly 200 feet deep. Twenty four people died, and the rest were all in serious condition, as of Tuesday night. While many were killed on the spot, several died of the injuries they sustained later on,
What if the injured had gotten treatment sooner? Could they have been saved? Maybe, say doctors who advocate the Golden Hour theory that even severely injured people have a higher chance of surviving if they get substantial, emergency room style treatment within the first hour after they’re injured. The problem is getting them to the treatment site especially under difficult field conditions, such as when a bus is stuck at the bottom of a ravine, with no path or road to the top, and no place for a helicopter to land. Not to mention that moving the injured often makes things worse, exacerbating the problem and making treatment at the facility more complicated.
There is a solution on the horizon, though. As it happens, I spoke to Dr. Eran Shenkar today, a battlefield medical expert who has helped develop a new concept vehicle for remote medical care, called the MedUAV. Interviewing Dr. Shenkar and others at the Fisher Institute in Herzliya in preparation for an article for 21C (look for it soon!), I had no idea how relevant the conversation would be just a few hours later.
The MedUAV, says Dr. Shenkar, can essentially bring the emergency room to the field. Developed for the battlefield, it’s also ideal for civilian emergencies in difficult to reach circumstances. As a remote UAV, it’s smaller, cheaper, and more compact than a helicopter meaning it can go places a helicopter can’t, and, in times of war, there’s nobody to shoot down. The MedUAV can land or take off vertically, meaning it’s ideal for use in, say, a narrow ravine where there’s no place for a helicopter to land. The MedUAV can carry sophisticated equipment equipped with Wi-fi sensors, allowing a field medic to hook up a patient and allow a doctor to provide remote treatment, by giving instructions to the medic. And, after it delivers its supplies, the MedUAV can transport patients back to the medical tent, where they can be transported to hospitals by helicopter.
It’s a great solution to the golden hour problem and when it’s ready for field use, chances are good that tragedies like today’s bus crash will end up being a bit less tragic, with perhaps many more of the injured being restored to good health more quickly.
Nostalgia Sunday – Mommy’s trip to Sinai
Filed under: General, Israeliness, Nostalgia Sunday
I have no idea what my mother did when she went to the Sinai in the summer of 1968. I mean, I know why she went — she was Shulamith, singer of international folksongs with a large following of Hadassah ladies in the greater Boston area. Check out this photo (and the hats).
And I know that while were visiting Israel that summer, she flew down to Sinai to entertain the IDF troops. Look, here’s a photo of the airstrip:
And I know she sang for these fellows, because she told me so.
But I have no idea if this is where she stayed. I figure it must be. This is the problem with being a kid. Grown-ups don’t tell you everything.
My mother came back from the Sinai bearing a very large pink conch shell and a square box encrusted entirely with shells – even the feet were shells!. We girls treasured those items for years — my little sister still has the big shell — but the box, like most fabulous tschotchkes, is long gone with no photographic record of its existence. Only the memory remains.
Click here to hear songs sung by Shulamith.
Links to previous posts:
Nostalgia Sunday – Powdered instant coffee
Nostalgia Sunday – 1967
Nostalgia Sunday -Simchat Torah flags
Nostalgia Sunday – Heaters
Nostalgia Sunday – Yom Kippur
Nostalgia Sunday – Rosh HaShana
Nostalgia Sunday – Old Coins
Nostalgia Sunday – Historic Homepages
Nostalgia Sunday – Tango
Nostalgia Sunday – Tel Aviv Night Run
Nostalgia Sunday – Missing Dad
Nostalgia Sunday – Clique HaClick
Nostalgia Sunday – Tel Aviv 100
Nostalgia Sunday – Eurovision
Nostalgia Sunday – Old Israeliana
Nostalgia Sunday – Classic Movie: The Blaumilch Canal
Nostalgia Sunday – Plaid Bedroom Slippers
Nostalgia Sunday – Historic Photo Shop Shuts Its Doors
Nostalgia Sunday – “new” Israeliana
Nostalgia Sunday – High Windows
Whistling in the dark
Filed under: A New Reality, General, Israeliness, Life
It’s been a year and a half since my daughter began her two-year obligatory army service, and was placed in the Israel Police. Sure has gone by quickly for me.
For her, I’m not so sure. While she’s accepted her responsibilities with poise and a remarkable sense of maturity, it’s clear that she’s mentally tearing the calendar page away a day at a time as her long countdown begins to her release.
We’ve been lucky, because her patrol route and home base are relatively close to home, enabling her to sleep in her own bed, instead of staying in a police barracks.
It’s become routine in the house – Adina returning home at 5:30 am after a 12-hour all-night shift, and sleeping all day. If we’re home, we try to keep things quiet, but in the summer, with the younger kids on the TV and computer constantly, it’s not always possible (not to mention the remodeling taking place by our downstairs neighbor).
And when she’s on a day shift, she gets home in the early evening, takes a nap, showers, and heads out to see her boyfriend or her high school friends. We’re happy to be her welcome berth, providing her with food, shelter… and privacy.
Occasionally she’ll tell us about something that happened on her shift – which involves usual police stuff like burglaries, roadblocks to check for drunk drivers, and sometimes, heading into Arab villages to back up army troops on a mission. But usually, she just says everything’s fine, and doesn’t go into detail.
That leaves us with a false sense of security that she’s leaving to go to work like any of us, to sit at a desk or computer – not that she’s leaving home and entering a danger zone where her life or well being could possibly be put in jeopardy at any time.
Once in a while, on the rare occasions we’re both at home and not preoccupied with human doing stuff, I tell her I’m proud of her, and appreciate the sacrifice she’s making for her country, when she’s at an age when many kids – at least in the US – are more focused on where the next keg party is going to be. On Shabbat, during the prayer for the soldiers defending Israel, I put in a good word for her, and ask that she return home safely from all her tasks which put her in harm’s way.
Then the new week starts, and those thoughts return to back part of my mind once again. Still, when I hear her roll in at 5:30 am, I roll over in my bed, and in hazy between sleep and awake state, I pretend to smile to myself.
Giyus season
Filed under: A New Reality, General, Immigrant Moments, Israeliness
It’s not even 11 a.m. and I already experienced a first for the day: We took my niece, Noa, to her giyus, or induction, into the army.
Noa isn’t my first niece or nephew to enter the army; in fact, she’s number seven. But for a variety of reasons, while I’ve attended my share of army ceremonies, from one nephew paratrooper receiving his red beret to a niece’s promotion to officer and a host of others, I’ve never actually brought anyone to that very first day of the army, when they’re numbered, processed and sent on their way to basic training.
Noa’s heading to an education unit, where she’ll be working with soldiers who are considered at-risk, coming from low-income, troubled homes. She’ll be joining a bunch of friends from her mechina, the pre-army program that she did last year in Tel Aviv, where she and 29 other 18-year-olds lived in the city, working with immigrants, refugees, studying art and keeping in shape by running on the beach at six o’clock every morning.
So besides being a year older than the average inductee, she had a lot of friends there this morning, which made it feel more like we were dropping her off for summer camp than for the army. We were dropping her off at Ammunition Hill, a battlefield and historical site known from the Six Day War, but given the swarm of teenagers in shorts and tee-shirts carrying massive backpacks, with parents looking on nonchalantly, it didn’t necessarily feel like a major moment in life.
And so, we acted accordingly. We sent her off with lots of candy and gum, face wipes — it gets sweaty during basic training in the summer — bandaids, blister pads (for coping with uncomfortable army boots) and a small screwdriver. That, said my nephew Eliav, Noa’s older, wiser brother, is great for cleaning out the gunk from your gun.
We said our goodbyes, and two hours later, I received a text message: “The bus ride was fine. We first got to watch a movie. It really is like camp when you have all your friends with you.” Go figure.
Combat cameramen
In the ongoing debate over how to handle hasbara — loosely translated as public relations, spin or propaganda — in the Israel Defense Forces, it’s enlightening to learn how the Israeli army is handling this area and meet some of the people behind the scenes. Somewhat apropos of Nicky’s entry regarding the 60 Minutes show about female helicopter pilots, I had the opportunity this week to meet members of the IDF Film Unit, part of the IDF Spokesperson’s Unit.
The overall unit handles all matters with the local and foreign press, from interviews and information to film footage and photos. That includes the IDF website, which is available in both Hebrew and English, and any images, from still photographs to raw video footage. A good chunk of the raw footage, taken by IDF photographers, as well as combat cameramen — all soldiers on active duty — is made for use by the press, although some is taken for video clips created for various hasbara purposes. For the soldiers in this unit, many of whom have been photographers and videographers since they were kids, the chance to be active filmmakers in the field is a great opportunity, and they often go on from their army service to studies and careers in the film and photography industry.
Here are some examples of their work from the website, which also features some of the video clips made by the Film Unit.
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