From Completely Confident to An..Annn…Anxious

I have always been an excellent test taker.

In grade school we had to take state issued standardized tests.  I routinely scored three years ahead of the grade I was in.  In high school my class was the first required to pass a proficiency test to graduate.  I was one of four in my class of 400 to pass it the first time. In Medic School I was at the top of my class, consistently scoring the highest on tests.

It’s never come easily for me, particularly in Medic School.   I had to study my backside off to make those grades.  I would habitually stay up for hours after putting the kids to sleep, pouring over my pharm flash cards, reading and rereading (and re-rereading) chapters that I had a hard time with.

The Endocrine System, for example.  The bane of my existence.  We had two quizzes and a final test over the course of two weeks.  I think I studied a total of 60 hours on that damn chapter and never scored below a 95%.  It definitely took a toll on me.

When we got to Cardiology I found myself revitalized.  It’s a subject that’s always fascinated me as I lost my Grandfather to an MI when I was two, and my Mother (who was in phenomenal shape) had been developing some cardiac issues of her own.  Some of my classmates were a little more anxious about the cardiac final.  We were told if you scored below a 78% on the test you were not able to retake it.  If we failed it we would wash out of the program we were now a third of the way through.  The idea of failing the test was not an option to any of us.  We all dealt with it in our own ways.

I dealt with that anxiety by studying to the point of mental and physical exhaustion.   I wanted to walk confidently into that classroom, and I didn’t care how much studying I had to do to be able to do that.  I wanted to sit down and answer all 180 questions correctly.  Then I would go perform the Mega Code perfectly.  Then I would go home and have a margarita to celebrate.  Maybe two.

That was the plan.

The night before Test Day I spent two four hour chunks of time studying.  By three in the morning I was falling asleep at my desk, drooling on my power points.

Get it together, Epi…  Just go over it one more time…  You can DO IT!

I picked my head up and wiped the sleep from my eyes and whined to no one in particular,  “But I’m TIIIIIRED!!!!”

Fine.  Go to sleep.  You’ll be getting plenty of opportunities to sleep when you wash out of the class.

“Jesus, I’m talking to myself.  And answering.”  I knew it was time to hit the bed.  What I didn’t know by now I wasn’t going to retain anyway.  I was beyond exhausted.  I stood up and stretched, feeling my back crack… The result of sitting in one position for two long.

Then it happened.  I took one step.  That was all it took.  I stepped on a pile of power points that happened to be in sheet protectors.  I slipped.  I planted my left shoulder directly into the cinder block wall that my basement office was constructed of.  From there I fell to the floor with my arms in front of me.

That’s me.  I’m the graceful one.

The pain was instant and blinding.   My first thought was something I can’t repeat here.  My second thought was that I needed to go to bed, because I had a massive day ahead of me.

*skip ahead five hours*

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

I rolled over in bed to turn the alarm clock off and screamed.  What I can only describe as the sensation of a red hot knife stuck in my shoulder shot a lightning bolt of pain down my left arm.  I yelled a few more four letter words while my husband tried to make sense of what was going on.  I told him what had happened earlier that morning.  He couldn’t do much more than shake his head.

“Well, you know you need to go to the ER,” He said a few minutes later, making a pot of coffee.

I was holding my left arm up against my chest, the only position it could be in that wouldn’t result in me crying out in pain.  “I know,” was all I could say.

Mr. Epi packed up my back pack with the power points and study notes that I would look over while waiting to be seen in the ER, and sent me on my way.

Yes, I drove myself to the ER, one armed.

**********

“Okay, so is it dislocated or broken?”  I pushed my glasses up, the pain from my arm was so intense that I was sweating.  I had been focused on test notes, studying to the very last possible minute.   The ER Doctor, for the record, happened to be the Medical Director for the EMS service I worked for at the time.

“Epi, look at me.”  His voice was calm, serious.  He meant business.  I looked up immediately.  “Epi, it’s broken and dislocated.  We’re going to have to give you some good drugs to reduce it.  I’ll get a nurse in here to start a line on you.”

“Uhm, no.  We can’t do that.  I have a test to take today, if I’m not in Ann Arbor in two and a half hours I’m going to miss that test.”  I set my papers aside and winced.  Every movement was excruciating.

“I’ll write you a note for school.”

“No, you don’t understand.  He won’t accept a note.  If I miss this test I fail it.  If I fail it I’m out of the class.”  I did my best not to cry, but I was terrified.  Hot tears rolled down my cheeks.   I knew that he had been a Basic, and a Paramedic before medical school.  I was pleading to that side of him.

“You really don’t want me to do this without sedation.  It’s going to hurt like hell.”

“I’ll deal with it.  Really.  The only other option for me is to drive up to Ann Arbor, take my tests, and come back here afterwards.”  I was just as serious as he was.  Hell, I’ve delivered two babies, one without an epidural, surely I could handle this.

**********

Good GOD in Heaven did that hurt.  The ER Doc reduced the dislocation, put my arm in a sling, and sent me out the door with a script for percocet.  Too bad I wouldn’t be able to take one for another seven hours.

I made the hour long drive to Ann Arbor without incident.

Getting out of my car and carrying 30 pounds of books and binders filled with notes would prove to be slightly more difficult.  My classmate and practicals partner, Jeff met me at my car.  When he saw my arm in the sling his jaw hit the frozen Michigan asphalt.

“What in the HELL did you do?” He set his coffee on the roof of my car and grabbed my backpack from me.

Who said chivalry was dead?

After I told him the whole sordid tale, his only worry was whether or not I’d be able to do the Mega Code that night.

“Thanks, Jeff.  Nice to know you care.”  Sarcasm dripped from my lips.

“You know I care.  I just don’t want to see Ben take your spot at the head of the class.  Then I’d have to go bribe him to be his partner for practicals.”  He smiled a big toothy dimpled smile.  I couldn’t help but laugh.

As soon as we entered the building I sought out my I/C.

I should probably pause here for a moment.  I might have mislead a few of you.  While I truly believe I’m great at written tests… I get a mean case of stage fright when it comes to practical tests.  It’s the oddest thing.  Give me a real patient with real problems and I perform flawlessly (well, as flawlessly as can be expected in a Medic Student during a clinical, but I digress).  I’m cool, calm and collected. Put me in front of a manikin in front of my classmates and I/C, and I freeze like a deer trapped in headlights.

Please don’t tell anyone.  Thanks.

While seeking out my I/C I was silently praying that he would let me out of the Mega Code that night.  I didn’t feel adequately prepared and certainly I couldn’t intubate one armed….  Well, I had never tried, but that was beside the point.

**********

“You’ve never tried to tube someone right handed?  Didn’t he teach you anything?”  I/C #1 was incredulous.

I shook my head.  Jeff was standing next to me, and I had the feeling he wasn’t any more excited about the Mega Code than I was.  I bit my lip and prayed silently.

Just give me one more day to prepare… please.

I/C #1 rubbed his temples and laughed out loud.  “Hell girl, you don’t think every person you have to tube is going to be on his back, do you?”

I didn’t know what to say.

I/C #1 went on, “I can teach you how to tube with your right hand in about five minutes.  You know your stuff, Epi, you’ll get through it just fine.”

Shit.

**********

I made it through the written Cardiac test just fine.  As a matter of fact I pulled through like a rockstar.

It wasn’t until I turned in the written test that I started to get those butterflies.  Jeff wasn’t nearly as confident about the written test and it showed.  His normal jovial demeanor was replaced with a borderline anxiety attack.

“I failed it I failed it… I know I failed it.  I can always go back to Arbors, they’re always looking for another CNA.  I didn’t really want to be a Medic anyway.  You know what? I think I’m going to go home.  What’s the point in sweating the mega code when I failed the written test.”  He was pacing back and forth and sounding more and more like what I was thinking to myself.

“Jeff, you passed.  You knew your stuff.  We did fine.  Let’s just focus on this, make it through it, and go out and have a beer.”  I was annoyed, very tired, and in pain.  Not the best combination.

**********

Tomorrow, the conclusion.  The Mega Code from Hell.