Ralph Thompson lends an ear and a shoulder to lean on to rescue workers.
By Yonat Shimron
Orlando Sentinel (Florida)
Copyright 2006 Orlando Sentinel
Distributed by McClatchy-Tribune Business News
Ralph Thompson was eating a sandwich at Chick-fil-A when the call came in on the radio: altered mental status, diabetic, low blood sugar.
He rushed to his car, grabbed a spiral-bound Durham County, N.C., map from the rear seat, and sped to the scene.
“Ralph, you want to hold this door?” shouted Corolla Lauck, the paramedic, who spotted him as she rolled the stretcher out of the EMS truck and onto the sidewalk.
“I love it when they put me to work,” said Thompson.
Every Thursday, Thompson has an emergency — ministering to firefighters and paramedics in Durham County. It’s not his main job. On other days he is the pastor of administration at Bethesda Baptist Church.
But this is Thompson’s passion, his calling, as religious folk put it. Thompson’s father was an assistant fire chief in the little town of Providence in North Carolina’s Caswell County, and caring for emergency workers has been a family affair.
“Git in the truck, boy,” was one of his dad’s frequent orders, he says.
Five years ago, after the terrorist strikes of Sept. 11, Thompson felt compelled to minister to firefighters in a more intentional way.
“All of a sudden it came close to home,” he says. “Firefighters, EMS and police saw the importance of chaplaincy in a major catastrophe.”
Six months ago, Thompson added emergency medics to the list of people to whom he offers support.
“They deal with life and death every day,” says Thompson. “It’s tough out there.”
Thompson doesn’t tell firefighters and medics what to believe. And though he carries a New Testament in his pocket, he doesn’t quote Scripture. Chaplaincy, he thinks, is about relationships. He wants to be a listening ear, a friend. Usually, that means chatting with emergency workers about mundane things such as sports, the weather, their kids.
Still, there’s nothing mundane about some of the issues paramedics are facing. On one Thursday, Thompson made a point of visiting with a paramedic whose daughter had just died and inquiring about another who was undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer.
Gordon Smith, a paramedic who relocated from New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, says Thompson paid him special attention to make sure he wasn’t experiencing any post-traumatic stress.
“He made sure I was OK in the head,” says Smith. “He’s easy to talk to and makes you feel at ease.”
‘I live Scripture’
There are 80 full-time EMS workers in Durham County and another 40 part-timers. Thompson makes a point of getting to know all of them, at least by name. His routine is the same. Thursday mornings, he checks in at the EMS headquarters behind Durham Regional Hospital. Then he heads out to the 15 fire stations and six EMS stations across the county.
“My faith is caring for people,” says Thompson, 45. “When I think of the ministry of Jesus on Earth, he took care of people, he met people’s needs. My philosophy is, I live Scripture.”
Thompson’s black sport utility vehicle is emblazoned with the words “Fire/EMS chaplain.” On his belt he packs a portable radio, two pagers and a cell phone. If he arrives at a station and the team gets a call, he jumps back into his car and heads out to the scene right behind the crew.
Once there, he opens doors and helps EMS workers carry their equipment. And though Thompson is chaplain to the emergency workers, he often helps patients and their families, too.
Once, he received a call from a paramedic at 2:30 a.m. A man had just died of a heart attack. His one remaining family member was in shock and the paramedics had to leave for another call. Could he come over and stay with the family member?
Another time, a man in distress was threatening to shoot himself, and Thompson was there to minister to the man’s wife in the raw moments after the suicide.
Reaching across faiths
A calm demeanor and a low-key presence make him a favorite in a department that includes Christians, Muslims and agnostics.
“The guys are under a lot of stress,” says Mike Smith, director of EMS for Durham County. “They talk to each other a lot, but now they have a resource, too.”
Thompson doesn’t get paid for his job, yet like all volunteers, he’s devoted. In addition to showing up one day a week, Thompson passes out magnetic cards with his cell-phone number and he tells people he’s available 24-7.
Thompson knows it’s not always easy getting people to talk about their problems. “You don’t just walk up and say, ‘How you doing?’ and expect them to tell you.”
But he says, if you hang out long enough, there’s always a point when the subject of a conversation turns, and a leading question can get people to open up.
“Chaplains talk about having a ministry of presence,” Thompson says. “You just go out and be there with them. Sometimes, you can’t improve on silence.”