In other news…

That isn’t baby related… (Did I mention how beautiful my niece is?  I did?  Oh, my bad)

I passed my NREMT practical test.

I celebrated by riding on a truck with a preceptor who can take me from near tears to calm with just a look, and his partner, who I couldn’t love any more if she were the sister I never had.

Exactly eight days and six hours from now I’ll sit for the class final.  As soon as humanly possible after passing that I’ll sit for the NR test.

Holy crap, ya’ll.


A new addition…

Guess who’s an Auntie for the first time?

THIS GIRL :)

Lil’ Peanut

9lbs 14 oz (!)

21 inches long

Congratulations to my Baby Brother and his beautiful wife!

For the EMS folks :)

This coming Wednesday (July 14) at 7pm EST I’ll be a guest on the EMS Office Hours podcast.

Me.  Holy cow, ya’ll.

I’ll be talking with Jim about finishing up with Paramedic school, my experience so far, and my expectations as a new medic.

Feel free to pop on by Wednesday night and heckle me participate in the program!

RIP

I Can’t, age 34, passed away July 6th after a long battle with the soul of a Paramedic Student.  I Can’t was survived by parents,  Self Doubt and Intimidation, and siblings I Tried and Maybe Next Time.  She is preceded in death by her best friend, Nevermind.  I Cant’s family will remember her as being a constant downer, fighting to the end to bring her victims down and causing nothing but negativity in the lives of those she touched.  They could not be prouder of the life she lived.

There will be no services or visitation.

In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the “Infecting the mind of anyone who’s ever been too close to their goal” fund at your local watering hole.

**********

Yep.  I took her down.  So those of you out there (and it’s been made abundantly clear who you are) who don’t think I can do the medic thing?  Ya know what?  Kiss my yankee ass.

Sweetness and light has been thrown out the window at this point.  Those ‘woe is me’ moments?  I might still have them, but in the next 19 days I plan on destroying them as well.

Ya know what, “I Can’t” and family?

Screw you.

I might still shake, but I have this.  I got this.

And after I take care of my patient, your ass is mine.

It’s 0240-ish…

And I can’t sleep.

The one goal I’ve had in the last five plus years is to be a Paramedic.

Yeah, for some of you out there, I know that doesn’t sound like much.  Some of you have been working as Medics  for longer than I’ve been in EMS.  In some cases it’s five times as long as I’ve been a Basic.  Some of you have forgotten what this feels like.  Some of you have never felt this way.  This is just me being very real.

This is not just some job to me.  It’s the only thing (other than my little ones) that means anything to me.  And I’m *THIS CLOSE*….

And I’m terrified.

I’m no longer worried that I’ll finish.  I’m worried about being set loose with a P card.

I don’t want to be half assed at this.

I don’t want to be merely adequate.

I’m not cool with just meeting the minimum standards. I believe the standards should be set HIGHER.  And at the same time, I want to exceed those standards.

I know I’m rambling… This is what happens when I have enough time to step back from my situation and take everything in.

I have three weeks left before my final.

21 days.

That’s it.

Oh…my… Goodness.

Donate Life

I don’t know if you had any idea that you were going to die.

I don’t know if you got a chance to say your goodbyes.  To hug your babies… To squeeze the hand of your spouse.  To spend those last moments with the people who meant the most to you.   I don’t know if you had made your peace with God, or even if you were a religious person.  I don’t know anything about you.

That’s not true, actually.

I know one thing about you.

I know that you made a decision.  At some point you decided that should something happen to you, should your life end… That you would give one final gift.  Parts of you would live on through organ donation.

It’s not always an easy discussion with your family, I know it wasn’t with mine.  But I DID have that talk. Multiple times in some cases (I’m pretty sure that my Mother is on board with my decision now).  I’ve had that talk, I’ve signed a donor card, which is always in my wallet, and I’ve indicated my wishes on my drivers license.

You did the same, I’d assume.

I don’t know where your heart ended up, but I have a feeling that it’s beating right now in someone’s chest.

Someone who will have another day, because of your selfless gift.

Godspeed.  Whoever you are.

Donate Life

25

25 days.

1500 hours.

90,000 minutes.

5,400,000 minutes.

More IV’s, squad hours, BVM’s, ALS team leads, ER hours, tubes and just about everything else than I can wrap my head around.

That being said… I’m game.

I got this.

25 days to go.

Today… Was one of the hardest days of my life.  I’ve never felt like a bigger failure as a parent.

But knowing that my little Princess will get the help she needs… It more than makes up for it.

SWR, you can do this.

Hallelujah for the Second Chance.

The biggest influences in your life are sitting next to you.

Sometimes, literally.  Sometimes figuratively.

As my second attempt at Medic school comes to a close, I’ve up until VERY recently found myself excited beyond believe, but at the same time, absolutely terrified.

A few months ago I put a facebook update up that looked a little like this:

That was almost two months ago.  Eight weeks later, and just 4 weeks (seven more classes… Oh my GOD, just SEVEN CLASSES?????) from finishing I was finding myself infinitely more nervous.  I thought this was supposed to get easier.

I’ve been here before.  Maybe that was the problem. I had been *this close*.

***********

A little over four years ago I enrolled in a Paramedic program.  It’s hard to believe that I was even greener and sparkier then, but I was.  I loved every second of it.  Every test that was put in front of me I knocked out of the park.  I went into every clinical opportunity bright eyed and excited and PRAYING that something cool would happen.  By cool, I mean horrifying to the average person, unfortunately.  I couldn’t wait to get to the ER for my time there.  When my third rides/internship started, I almost lost my mind I was so geeked.  It was on those third rides that something… Uhm… cool happened.  And again, by cool, I mean… Horrifying.  Not once, but twice.

Not one, but two Pedi codes.  One SIDS, one due to a house fire.

Well, there ya go, Epi.  You got what you wished for.   Nothing supplies a bigger sympathetic dump/pucker factor for a student than a code.  Unfortunately there’s no chapter in a textbook that explains how you deal with two pediatric codes that occur three squad rides apart when you’re used to being on a transfer truck and taking Grandma to dialysis.  I was quickly drowning in a sea of self-doubt.

I’m not tough enough for this job.

I’m too emotional.

I’m a black cloud.

I can’t do this.

I CAN’T do this.

THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL I’M GETTING BACK ON THAT TRUCK!!!!

I was a part of two separate CISD’s (don’t EVER ask me my opinion on a CISD) and several conversations with the people who I respected the most.  In the end it was a mix of people I had never met in person and classmates I wasn’t even particularly close to who pulled me through.  I can’t explain how or why their words were able to convince me not only to stay in EMS, but to stay in the medic program…   I’m just grateful that I had them.  Still, I didn’t truly believe that I’d make it out of the class.  I can’t explain why, because honestly, I don’t know what was in my head back then.

Two weeks before the end of the program I blew out my back on a clinical.  I missed two classes and just like that,  I found myself washed out of the program.  I was simultaneously crushed and relieved.  Crushed because I had spent eleven months missing my kids, holidays, birthdays, etc, and I would have nothing to show for it. Relieved, because as a basic EMT working at a private service in NW Ohio, I wouldn’t have to deal with seeing another baby die in front of me.  There is nothing worse than that in my mind.  Nothing.  To this day I still have nightmares.

I guess I just wasn’t ready then.

Three years later I got my second chance.  I was back in P school (thank you!), and I was going to get through it this time come hell or high water.  I studied my ass off, I picked the brains of the people around me when I couldn’t figure something out, and mentally got myself ready for the clinical time.  I knew I was still green, I knew that the ghosts from my first time through school would still be with me.  I knew it was going to be a challenge.  And it has been.  It’s very hard to admit, but there is very little about me that is calm while on the scene with a person who is truly sick, who really needs my help.  My hands shake and I sweat like it’s my job.  Think about it, as a patient whose world is crashing down on them, would you put your life in the hands of a tall redhead with shaky hands who looks like she might throw up on herself any second?

I wouldn’t.

There is one huge difference between the girl I was back then and the girl I am now. I now know that this is what I was meant to do.  I truly believe it.  I believe that the education I’ve received through both programs is the perfect starting point for me.  I might not be calm, I might not be the picture of professionalism and grace while I’m trying to start an IV on someone in the back of a squad rumbling down a bumpy road while sweating my ass off…  My own little sympathetic dump might still make my heart race and my hands shake, but it doesn’t render me incapable of functioning. And thanks to my people… The biggest influences in my life, I KNOW I’m where I belong. The nervousness is actually *gasp* NORMAL!

I want to thank a few people who have gone above and beyond the call of duty to help me on this journey.

My Instructor, who is pretty much the most patient and simultaneously bad ass Medic/Instructor I know.  I’m fairly certain that if I ever have another baby, I’ll name that child after my instructor regardless of it’s sex.  I’ve been a gigantic pain in the backside to this man, and he’s stood by me and encouraged me from day one.

Medic Matthew, the best friend I’ve never met, who seems to be the first person I run to when I have one of those “You’re NEVER going to believe this” moments.

Ambulance Driver, who has been one of my biggest influences.  My go-to guy for ANY question I have.  The one who won’t hesitate to put a very large bootprint on my backside when I start to complain.  Because I have absolutely no business complaining as far as school goes.  Knowing that he believes I can do this has gotten me further than he could imagine.

CKEMTP and a good friend who I’ll call TFD, both who through a few conversations told me in no uncertain terms that what I was feeling was okay.  For a shaky green nervous girl like me, that elevates them to sainthood.  Realizing that I’m SUPPOSED to be nervous… Holy COW, what a load off of my shoulders.  Particularly when it seems like every other person in my class is cool as a cucumber during clinical time.

Lisa, who I have clung to like a sister.  I talked her into believing that she could get through basic school, and we talked each other into KNOWING that we could both make it through P school.  Again, someone I’ve never met, who knows me better than most of my closest friends know me.

Happy Medic and Medic 999.  Who have no idea how much they’ve inspired me to do more and to be better.  To do more than just talk about what’s broken in my area as far as EMS goes, but that the improvements could actually start with me. If they could accomplish what they have with their resources, certainly I could do my part to do the same.  It starts with being able to do more for my patients on the truck.  It starts furthering my education.

I am going to rock this.

But I’m probably going to do a fair amount of sweating for quite awhile.  Either way….

Hallelujah for the second chance.

Randomness.

I can’t sleep.  Indulge me.

IF you find yourself in Medic or Nursing school… And IF you find yourself serving time enjoying clinicals on the labor and delivery floor of your favorite hospital….

Remember the importance of those those three letters.  B…S…I…

I had amniotic fluid not just wash over me… Not splash on me, but in fact SPRAY on me today.

In my hair, on my face, and pretty much showering me from forehead to hips.

Blech.

I mean, I love the itty bitty ones, but I will never walk over to an RN who asks me if I want to see something “really cool” without proper protection again.