There are real life heroes in Queens ... but don’t expect to see them donning long capes or riding off into the sunset because these heroes don’t have enough free time.

Nothing at all like the burnt-out main character in the recent movie "Bringing Out The Dead," the members of the borough’s volunteer ambulance corps, are constantly proving their heroism as they face stranger and more nerve-racking volunteer hours than anyone could ever catch on film.

Monday Night In Bayside

At 7:30 p.m. all is calm at the Bayside Volunteer Ambulance Corps garage which feels more like a clubhouse as staff members sit around talking about the recent Ambulance Corps party over the previous weekend.
Then came the call over the radio.
"Unconscious," the small police walkie-talkie blurted out, giving an address on Northern Blvd. near 211 St.
Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) Sal Puglisi shouts "let’s go," into a back room where 27 year-old EMT Erik Knapp, 24-year old EMT Jill Jensen and 22-year-old Probationary EMT Antoinette Henriquez are watching home movies.
The crew bolts out the front door and the race is on.

Racing To The Rescue

Mentally prepping themselves for the unknown, the crew strapped themselves in and began preparing their equipment as the ambulance bounced, twisted and turned through the bustling thoroughfare of Bell Blvd.
The Bayside group was the first on the scene – which is usually the case with most calls, Puglisi explained later— to encounter a man lying still on the sidewalk on the Northern Blvd. street corner.
Puglisi approached the victim and asked "Hey Buddy, What’s Up?"
The semi-responsive man replies in mumbled as Police and the Fire Dept. Emergency Medical Service arrived.
The Fire Dept. Paramedics told Puglisi and his crew that the man’s name is Michael and that he is frequently picked up by ambulance crews.
"Looks like we have a regular customer," a crew member replied.
Knapp and Jensen secure Michael and put him on a stretcher and into the back of the "bus" – "bus" is EMT lingo for "ambulance".
Behind the wheel of the bus, Puglisi is cool and collected as he zips down Northern Blvd weaving through busy intersections and dodging unrelenting drivers who seem to ignore the flashing light and siren warning.
The Ambulance winds up at Flushing Hospital where Knapp and Henriquez wheel the pa-tient into the emergency room.
There Knapp and Henriquez brief the E.R. doctors on Michael’s status while Puglisi returns to the bus to get it ready for the rest of the night’s calls.
As Puglisi lit up a Marlboro Light to unwind from the adrenaline filled ride to the hospital he explained what motivates him to give up his free time to help other people.
He said he does it for the love of it.
When Puglisi isn’t driving an ambulance on a Volunteer basis, he drives one to earn a living.
As an ambulance driver for New York Hospital/Cornell Medical Center in Manhattan, Puglisi has pretty much seen it all.
"Yeah it desensitizes you a bit," he said in describing his job.
But that comes with the territory, he explained.

Heroes In The Night

On the ride back to base, Henriquez and Knapp talked shop as the Ambulance wound its way through the streets of Flushing and Bayside.
"When everyone thinks of treatment, they think of good hospitals and good doctors, what about EMTs, Knapp asked.
"We get on the scene and we will down on our knees for forty minutes administering C.P.R and what we do will often wind up saving the patients life. Nobody remembers the EMTs, we get them there and then we are gone and forgotten." Knapp said about the work he and his colleagues do.
"EMTs are the real heroes," he added.

Ridgewood Volunteers

Michael Ansbach, Kevin Staib, and Christopher Kagenaar, spent the early part of Friday evening alternately talking with one another in the manner of people whose labors and hours have long since fused them into a family.
The three are members of the Ridgewood Volunteer Ambulance Corp.
The night’s early hours found the threesome not rushing to an emergency scene with lights blazing, but rather waiting for a call — waiting, and waiting.
It was a slow night and Ansbach, Staib, and Kagenaar, as well as two of the corps’ members in training, 15-year-old Sara Attalla, and 21-year-old Santos Solten spent the time double checking their vehicles’ mechanics, equipment, and supplies, as well as explaining to a Tribune reporter the specifics of their job, and why they choose to spent on average between 10 and 15 hours a week of their free time away from their families, working while under high stress — for no pay.
"We do it to give back to the community," explained Staib.
"Enough of us believe in it — in neighbors helping neighbors."
"We’re pretty careful — but you never know what’s going happen," added Ansbach.
While helping to calm an emotionally disturbed man, the crew noted "the man came around and clocked the guy from EMS." Grinned Staib "Obviously not everyone we need to help, wants to be helped."
But not all memories can be diffused with laughter, as is the case of a call for an 18 month old boy who nearly drowned in a kiddy pool, a call that Ansbach responded to.
Though the child survived the incident, he was severely brain damaged and died a few months later.
"The worst thing ever is seeing a child in cardiac arrest," said Ansbach. "Calls like that — afterwards, your mind doesn’t stay on the call — but on the child."
Added Staib, "I’ve gone to calls for a few kids that when you get back, you hear they didn’t make it . Afterwards you talk with your crew, your friends, your family — but sometimes you just stand in a corner and cry."

On Saturday nights at the Forest Hills Volunteer Corps, there are five volunteers working in two ambulances, and two dispatchers.

High Anxiety

At 8:25 the FHVAC gets a call.
Someone is sick in the street on 71st Road.
The crew consists of Bryce Friedman, former president of the FHVAC and a lawyer by day who has been with the Corps for 15 years.
Maria Mela has been volunteering for one year. She explained that a sick call can be anything ranging from fever to allergy, and the like.
The crew arrived to find that nobody was on the scene when they arrived.
On the ride back to base, Friedman explained that the fact that a lawyer also spends his time as a volunteer EMT isn’t that strange, as a large array of day occupations are represented in the Corps.
Cops, students, customs agents, nurses, retirees he explained, "everyone has their own reason," said Friedman.
On the ride back, Friedman explained that most of those in need of help are elderly and live alone. And "blood and guts" situations are rare, but not as rare as one would like.
"You get desensitized, but at some point you have to be." Friedman said.
The conversation is cut short by another emergency call on the radio.
Respiratory distress on 99th Street.
The crew reaches the scene quickly and the door opens.
A man is found on his bedroom floor nearly passed out.
He speaks no English, and his girlfriend has to translate from Polish.
The 28-year-old man started having difficulty breathing about an hour before we got there his girlfriend explained.
He’s dizzy, and his hands are getting numb from lack of oxygen.
Two EMTs from St. Johns arrive for extra help, placing an air mask over his airways.
He is taken into the ambulance, and his girlfriend rides in back.
Once taken into St. Johns Hospital, the patient appeared to be feeling better.
The patient’s girlfriend explained that his mother recently passed away, and the stress may have led to an anxiety attack.