Now before you yell at me, I’m just popping in for a second because I wanted to share a video with you.
This is a PSA from the UK that we were shown in class yesterday on the importance of not ignoring the signs of an MI. It’s good stuff.
Back to studying!
P school is not easy.
And it doesn’t matter if it’s your first attempt or your third. Nothing about constantly having your nose in a book, balancing work with school (and clinical time, and third rides) is fun or easy.
And it’s not supposed to be.
And then you hit the dreaded Cardiac chapter. And even though you might have been through this before, you realize that you have to read the same paragraph three times to retain the information. Information that you had down pat just a few years earlier seems to run away to the parts of your head that you can’t access at the most inopportune times.
You find yourself unable to remember what you walked into the kitchen for. You start calling your four-year-old little girl by the wrong name. Repeatedly. And She’s less than impressed by this. Then again she’s less than impressed by just about everything you do and at least it’s a name she recognizes…
The truth is that I’ve hit a brick wall. And something has to give. Unfortunately for now that has to be my posts here. For just a little bit.
That being said an amazing group of people have stepped forward and offered to takeover the blog for a bit. Some of them you’ll know, some you might not be as familiar with. All of them are far better at this writing stuff than I am.
I’ll be back as soon as I’m through cardiac.
With that being said, I’m very honored to present you with our first guest blogger, Greg Friese.
**********
5 Things I learned in Paramedic School
In May of 2005 I completed a nine month paramedic program. Nearly five years later I can barely comprehend how I attended class two or three days a week, finished all my clinicals before the end of March, worked full-time, and welcomed our first child into the world eight weeks before graduation.
Along the way I learned a few things that I don’t recall seeing in the syllabus and as I look back may be the most important lessons I learned.
Finally, stress and fatigue for me come in waves. Throughout paramedic class there were highs and lows. Then and now when I recognize I am at the peak of the stress wave I try to step out of it for a moment, reaffirm where I am going, eliminate any obvious clutter, and reenergize for the next manageable chunk of time and tasks.
Greg Friese is paramedic, educator, and online CE designer. His blog is http://everydayemstips.com and he co-hosts the http://emseducast.com podcast.
I am done.
Done ya’ll.
Done feeling sorry for myself. Done downplaying what I’ve accomplished. Done apologizing for things that I don’t need to apologize for. I’m done feeling like I’m simply not good enough. I’m done waiting. I’m done waiting for things to go my way, and done beating the hell out of myself when they don’t.
That’s life after all.
I’m not a victim and I’m not broken. This woe-is-me bull shit is over.
I am a Mom to two of the most beautiful, gracious, compassionate children in the world, and they are truly what is vital to me, they are quite literally the air that I need to breathe. I feel like I’ve won the lottery every day that I get a hug from one of them, every day that I get to tuck them in to bed, every day that I get to argue with them that really “last time you tried chicken you LOVED it!”.
I’m lucky enough to be able to say that I LOVE my job, there aren’t many people who can say that. True, I might not work for the best service in the country. Or in the state. Or even in the city, but I can change that. I can be the change that my employer needs. And I’m working on that now.
I’m fortunate enough to be a part of an amazing group of people learning from a fantastic instructor. We’re all in this for the right reasons, and I can’t wait to see what we can accomplish once we’ve gotten our medic cards.
I am, in fact, surrounded by truly good people. People who I would trust with not only my life but the life of my kids. Some of you might be just a few streets over, some of you are a few states over. There are two of you who don’t even reside in the US. Distance doesn’t really matter after all.
I am a very lucky girl. It might have taken me a good bit to actually realize it, but I know it as fact now.
So I’m done being a Debbie Downer. I’m done being “Dark and Twisty”.
The real me is back. And she’s practically bionic.
Ready or not, ya’ll, here I come.
I am so sorry.
I’m sorry that getting our stretcher into your home, let alone down that hallway and around a corner was impossible.
I’m sorry that we had to wake you up, particularly when you have such a hard time sleeping recently.
I’m sorry that I looked to your daughter, your caregiver, for information because you weren’t able to communicate with us. I know that in your head you knew what you wanted to say, you just couldn’t say it.
I’m sorry that you were scared. You had so much more going on to worry about, and the way that we had to get you out of that house was less than comfortable for you. I could see it in your eyes and it just about killed both me and my partner.
I know that you are a proud, strong woman. If anything we said or did today made you feel any less than that then we failed as providers. And that’s unacceptable on our part.
I’m sorry.
“Mom, I hate your job.”
His softly spoken words stung far worse than any slap to the face. There was my little guy, the one that used to recreate EKG’s in his own notebook, standing in front of me. He was angry, hurt and disappointed. Mom was missing another holiday.
I ran my hand through his sandy hair and pulled him towards me. “Baby, I’m sorry. We need the money, and I’ll be home first thing in the morning tomorrow. You’ll have fun with SWR and Dad!” I squeezed him tight, but he didn’t return it. My heart broke a little more. “Why can’t someone else go? Why does it always have to be you?” He turned on his heel and headed for his room, not bothering to wait for an answer that I couldn’t give him.
I grabbed my stethoscope, shoved it half-heartedly into a pocket of my BDU’s and dragged myself towards the door.
Sometimes I hate this job too, Little Man.
**********
The shift had for eight hours straight consisted of mind numbing boredom.
Completed the squad check.
Stocked the squad.
Took the last crews trash out.
Washed the squad.
Sat down and attempted to study.
Fell asleep.
Watched Marine Partner take out some insurgents playing Xbox.
Open the Big Red Book yet again.
Fell asleep (again) reading about airway adjuncts.
I couldn’t have been dreaming of King tubes and NPA’s doing the Paso Doble more than a few minutes when I was rudely awakened.
“Medic four you have a run. Medic four, you have a run.”
Nothing like waking up to the voice of a very bored dispatcher. I slowly got up and took three steps towards the ambulance bay before I realized that my boots are sitting on the floor next to my bed. A string of four letter words slipped from my mouth while my favorite Marine looked on laughing.
“You’re a bright ray of sunshine today, Missy. You kiss your Momma with that mouth?”
“No, Sir. Never, Sir.” I managed to crack a sleepy smile his way as I zipped my boots up and followed him out to our truck.
**********
In four short minutes an “unknown medical” had turned into “syncopal episode” which then (naturally) progressed into an “unresponsive”.
“Epi, are you a black cloud?” MP wasn’t smiling anymore. He was behind the wheel, driving code for a run where we were going to probably be sweating literally and figuratively for a few minutes on our own. It wouldn’t be the first time we were in this position, but given the few number of shifts we had worked together… It HAD to have him thinking.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I dug through the glove boxes (the one thing I neglected to check during inspection) for a box of non-latex mediums. I was rewarded with one glove, which I promptly threw at MP.
“Medic four, come in.”
I swatted MP’s hand away from the radio. “You… Drive.” I keyed up the mic, “Go ahead, dispatch.”
“CPR in progress.”
I exhaled and closed my eyes. “We’re clear, Sir.”
Fan-fricking-tastic. I climbed into the back of the truck and threw the LP, airway bag and drug box on the stretcher before sitting in the officer’s seat.
14 codes I had worked in just under five years. I wasn’t looking forward to number 15 with the same enthusiasm as I did with number one. Knowing that the patient was two years older than myself didn’t help. I sat in that chair with my head in my hands going over what I’d need to do to help my partner and my patient the most.
“CPR in progress” kept replaying in my head. I swallowed hard as MP slowed the truck down and shifted into park. When he flung the back doors of the truck open the biting cold wind rushed in.
Sometimes I really hate this job.
**********
It was a small trailer, the couch just a few feet away from the TV and practically on top of the kitchen. Four TV trays were set up, and the smell of turkey hung heavily in the air. We knew getting the stretcher in was going to be an impossibility and settled on carrying in a backboard loaded up with what we’d need. Even without the stretcher we struggled to navigate the closed quarters. MP cursed out loud when he stepped a something that resembled a hand held game system. My thoughts went to my little man, the one permanently attached to his Nintendo DS. That birthday present that I had worked three overtime shifts to cover.
I really need to not work on personalizing every single fucking run I go out on.
To say that the home was less than hospitable to an EMS crew who had to try to entice a person’s heart to snap the hell out of it, behave itself and just act like it’s supposed to would have been an understatement.
On thanksgiving yet.
Our patient was laying in his bathroom wedged tightly between an overflowing trashcan, a bathroom cabinet and the tub. The good Samaritan who was struggling to do compressions sprinted out of the crowded bathroom before I could even open my mouth. I could hear him throwing up nearby. I hoped he made it out the front door.
“Help me move him, Epi.” MP’s voice was the picture of calm. I was doing my best to mirror him, but my hands were betraying me, shaking like I had just mainlined a few pots of coffee. We managed to move our patient a few feet further into the center of the tiny room. I checked his pulse, ripped apart the gray button down work shirt and jumped on compressions without thinking about it.
The next few minutes were a blur of activity. I didn’t even notice when a BLS unit had arrived until one of them slapped me on the back.
“Let me take over.”
Four simple words had never sounded so sweet. My arms were on fire and I could literally taste the salt from the sweat running down my face. My ability to do effective compressions had come and gone. I moved out of the way and took a spot squatting next to Marine Partner and the patient.
“MP, what do you need?” The tube was in, a line was started, compressions were being done, there were sharps on the floor.
“We need to get moving. “ I watched as MP looked at our patient, the basic doing compressions and the patients wife who had made an appearance at the door to the bathroom, complete with two little boys who looked absolutely terrified. The sound coming out of her… was something that I’ve heard before, but never fail to take home with me. It was gutteral. It was the sound when you make when your worst nightmare is multiplied exponentially. It’s the sound you make when you’re watching your best friend and the father of your babies die. Right in front of you.
Sometimes I really REALLY hate this job.
**********
The back of the truck was a tornado of activity. Wrappers were everywhere, I had vomit down my left leg, and there was a fine spray of what I assumed was arterial blood on the wall of the truck.
That’s what you get when I try to start a line in the other arm. Sorry about that, MP.
Basically what I’m trying to say is that the crew on our truck was wrecked, and the truck itself had seen better days. We were running the code, sure, and doing it well. That being said, I’m pretty sure we were all convinced that this wasn’t going to end well for our patient.
And then, the clouds parted.
Right there in the back of that jacked up ambulance on a bumpy Michigan country road.
Marine Partner inhaled sharply, “Fuck me sideways.” Everyone’s eyes instantly went to the LP that he was watching intently.
Where there had been fine VF was now something that was at least hopeful. My fingertips (and everyone elses’s) fought for a position along the closest pulse point.
I felt it. I felt a pulse. “That’s a fucking pulse. It’s a pulse! I feel it!!!” Yes, I said that out loud. I practically shrieked it.
I’m still being reminded of that fact. To this day. I have a feeling I’ll have coworkers squealing “THAT’S A FUCKING PULSE!” whenever they see fit for the foreseeable future.
And you know what? I’m more than okay with that.
It took him almost a week but he walked out of the hospital. Well, he was wheeled out of the hospital, in a wheelchair, but he was wheeled out knowing his name, the names of his babies, and the fact that he was married to the love of his life.
And we had something to do with that.
That’s a very cool thing.
Little Man, you’re right. Sometimes this job sucks. It’s not fair, it takes me away from you, after all.
But sometimes it really rocks.
In the interest of complete honesty and accountability…
(Eeek!)
I failed a test. Not only did a fail a test, but I did it in spectacular fashion, and it was on the one subject I pride myself on.
Cardiac.
I’m cringing as I type that.
To those people who have given so freely from their pockets so that some poor chick from Ohio could go to achieve a dream… And to those people who have listened to me freak out either through email, or IM’s or on the phone…
Jesus, I let ya down.
Know this. It wont happen again.
Life happened and I slacked off. That fact in combination with an instructor who knows how to put a test together spelled disaster for me. I knew it was coming. And I’m unbelievably embarrassed by that.
The retest is on Thursday and I have been and will be studying until I sit down and start circling letters.
And you will never see another post like this again.
Seems like I’m constantly playing a game of catch up lately. Sean is putting me to shame!
How could you NOT smile back?
Date: 1/10/10
Time: 1500 ish
Subject: She Who Rules.
I was raised by one of the toughest women I know. In 18 years of living under her roof I can count on two fingers how many times I remember seeing her cry. It’s not that she wasn’t emotional (I get it from her), she just did shed her tears away from my brother and I. I’ve been the same way. I all but refuse to cry in front of my children. I’ve been pretty successful at this.
Up until last Sunday. SWR busted me.
“What’s wrong, Mom Mom?” She was balancing on one foot wearing my sunglasses, teetering to the right like a drunk socialite attempting a field sobriety test.
I quickly wiped my eyes and forced a smile. “I’m fine, Sis. Whatcha doin?”
“Nooooothin. You wanna play wif mah dollhouse or you wanna have a teacup party.” This girl has learned from the best. It’s all about giving someone options. Crying was not one of them. It was her own way of telling me to pull up my damn big girl pants and drink some imaginary tea already. She was now standing on other foot and teetering to the left.
I exhaled and smiled again, this one significantly more genuine. “Teacup party. Definitely. We’ll even have cookies.”
Thank you, little girl, for schoolin’ your Mom Mom.
**********
Winter in Ohio
Date: 1/11/10
Time: 1643
Subject: The view from my front window.
***********
Still Life composed by SWR
Date 1/12/10
Time: 1400ish
Subject: You’d have to ask SWR, I’m still trying to figure it out. Guess she likes shoes…
Some days these moments in time just jump out at me and I just happen to have my camera by my side.
Some days I have to put some thought into it.
Today I delegated that task to SWR. She set the shot up, I snapped it.
1/07/10
I’m sitting here in the station in complete darkness surrounded by a symphony of snoring men.
Yes, Boy Wonder, you snore. D. You snore too. We all knew the Lt. snores, although tonight he seems to be bringing his own version of shock and awe to the mix. Shock and awe, ya’ll. If only they could get their gasps coordinated I would You Tube it in a heartbeat. Maybe with a little creative editing…
So I’m sitting here, the insomniac that I am, and I can’t help but think about how much has changed in my life in the last year.
It’s like night and day.
12 months ago.
12 months ago after a few months of being hopelessly unemployed, McHottie dragged me down to Ma and Pa EMS to apply for a Basic spot. We were both hired on the spot without having to do as much as filling out an application. Gainfully employed, this girl rejoiced. It wasn’t pefect, but it was a job doing what I loved. And no, I didn’t make the above cot. And yes, that’s a backboard strap wrapped over the side rails, but who am I to judge?
Eleven months ago.
11 months ago we had a new addition to the family, our first puppy, Dasher. We quickly learned how much fun it is to raise (and in particular house train) a puppy. Dash, for his part, chewed everything in the house with the exception of the toys and bones we bought him. Eleven months later he’s quadrupled in size and still chews everything but the toys and bones. But he is house trained.
10 months ago my little boy was an anxious wreck. He needed everyone’s acceptance, he wanted to be a friend to anyone who would talk to him. This put a tremendous bulls-eye on his eight-year-old back. He had one friend in the class, and that “friend” was only interested in playing on the Wii or the computer when he’d come over. Ten months later he’s got more friends than he can count on two hands and he’s constantly on the phone. His self confidence has grown by leaps and bounds. He’s accomplished this all while retaining his love of learning. I couldn’t be prouder.
Nine Months ago…
9 months ago my own precious little snowflake, SWR (that was sarcasm for those of you who are slow to pick up on it), was pushing four-years-old and had been defying me where potty training was concerned for over a year. This was a massive point of contention between my Mother and I. I was at my wits end, nothing was working. I read books, I listened to anyone and everyone with advice… She was completely defying me. Anyone who’s met her in person would understand what I’m saying completely. She’s a mini me. Nine months later she’s very much potty trained. She’s still stubborn as hell (she is my daughter remember), but her meltdowns are fewer and farther between.
8 months ago I met a patient who would change my way of thinking forever. I met Regina. Up until this point I had tremendous emotional issues when it came to Hospice runs. In just under three weeks of visits with Regina, watching her body rebel against her, seeing the pain involved where something as evil as Cancer is concerned… I finally learned that death is a release for these patients. I will never forget Regina, one of the most amazing people I’ve had the honor of meeting.
Seven months ago…
7 months ago my Mom married the man I’ve called my second Father for the last 18 years. The clouds parted, the birds sang, and for a day our world was all sunshine and roses. My baby Brother and I rejoiced. Seven months later she’s finally gotten around to changing her name on her work voice mail. And my Brother and I are still rejoicing.
6 months ago I determined that P school was going to be an impossibility. I was resigned to it. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it was a disappointing setback. 67 people decided that this was unacceptable. I am to this day, and will always be absolutely humbled by the amazing support of the blogging (the EMS bloggers and readers in particular) community. It renders me speechless when I try to explain the way it makes me feel.
5 months ago…
5 months ago I started my second attempt at that glitter badge. I quickly made 13 friends with a common goal and addiction to caffeine.
Four months ago…
4 months ago I stood proudly on the sidelines and watched my boy play his first game of soccer. Four months later, despite being one of the slower, less experienced members of the team, he still loves the game and wants to play. His skills are improving and next month hopefully he’ll be starting a six week indoor season!
Three months ago…
3 months ago I realized that I wasn’t getting everything I needed from the P program I was in, which just about killed me. I was with a group of people who I absolutely adored, people who I felt at home with. People who I was very much attached to. After more than a few phone calls with Rockstar Partner, much soul searching and more than a few tears, I made a phone call to another school. And the instructor accepted me into the program with open arms. Three months later I’m frazzled as hell but loving every single second of it.
Not so long ago…
2 months ago I made yet another move. I applied to a new company in town and was hired on full time. I had a really good feeling about this company from the start, and knew I was in the right place from the first time I walked in the door. Lt. T. (THE best supervisor I’ve ever worked with), D (who lost his intermediate card to me in a fierce game of Monopoly, but keeps me smiling ), and Boy Wonder (who would be my partner I’m VERY proud to say) have been the most amazing crew to work with. McHottie, Tall Dark and Irish, K., and AJ are also working here. I’m surrounded by the best and brightest, and there’s no stopping us – or what we can do with this new opportunity!
1 short month ago I finally was able to see the sun shine through the clouds. I’m in a good place, surrounded by my people. I’m moving forward toward obtaining that damn P card (come hell or high water!!!) For the first time in I dont know how long, everyone around me is all good.
A far cry from 12 months ago.
A far cry.
My 1/8/10 submission may possibly break the rules. No picture today, but a very blurry video.
You remember the post I did about my Rockstar Partner?
Yeah, this guy.
There was a comment and a few emails about video being needed.
It took me awhile, but I managed to catch another one of Rockstar Partner’s shows, and while the video quality is craptastic (totally my fault), the audio is decent… If not a little loud. So without further ado, I present RP.
This is a guy who I have barely known a year who has been there for me from day one. I consider myself lucky to have had the opportunity to get to know not only him, but his ridiculously beautiful and sweet wife and their even more dazzling baby girl.
Working in private EMS, particularly in my area, well, it’s kind of thankless. It’s nice to have someone you can trust completely who will listen to you vent. Venting is a good thing.
That’s where RP and I are. I’m grateful to have him around. As a partner and as a fellow classmate.
By the way, when he’s singing at the top of his lungs at three in the morning, he doesn’t sound anything like this. And the lyrics don’t make much sense. Again, my apologies for the video quality.
***********
Lying in Wait.
Date: 01/09/10
Time: 1350ish
Subject: My Dashboard, five minutes before a CCU clinical.
I know, this is some captivating stuff, yeah? The truth is that I had my camera on me and knew that I needed to take a picture for today, and this was the only thing that caught my attention.
Medic school is stressful. Anyone who’s done it once (or twice, or three times) will tell you that. Even more so if you work full time and/or have smaller children while you’re going through it. You work your ass off and try to be a good parent and a good spouse. You are constantly buried in a big red book, or drug cards, or ACLS algorithms, or trying to remember what cranial nerve controls what. When you aren’t fighting like hell to be a good parent for your little ones, you’re listening to a lecture. When you aren’t fighting to stay awake during a lecture, you’re at work. When you aren’t at work, you’re at a clinical. When you aren’t doing clinical time you’re fighting off nerves (at least I am) during a lab. Every once in awhile you get to sleep.
It’s not fun, ya’ll. Not by a long shot.
That being said, becoming a Paramedic is something that is just in me. I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world.
Heading home.
Date: January 7, 2010
Time: 2030ish.
Subject: We got SNOW ya’ll!
Ha HA Supervisor T. I’m still in it.
Even if today’s pic is just a quick shot as I ran screaming from the station.
Today was the first “significant” snow of the season (and don’t you dare laugh at my choice of words Medic Matthew, it’s Ohio, not Maine), and in true NW Ohio fashion everyone lost their damn mind and drove like fools. It didn’t help that the salt and shovel trucks were nowhere to be found. Seriously though, if you drive 65 mph on top of packed snow and hit your brakes, chances are things are going to get kind of interesting for you. Real quick and in a hurry.
Be safe, ya’ll.
