The weirdness of being home

-
It has been difficult to admit that after a year of planning and a year of execution that the wild-ass plan is sadly and officially over. Although I'm not there anymore, it will certainly remain a part of my everyday life and ongoing friendships.

I have had a definite reluctance to change my location on Facebook or the lappys clock back to EST. And, this past weekend I felt a near desperate desire to be back in England for the Harry Potter premier and all of the Coventry blitz anniversary happenings. Alas. At least I could catch the cathedral service on BBC radio.

I have a few residual quirks from being there. It's amazing the affect being on the other side of the road has on the psyche. I still inadvertently look the wrong way before crossing and have occasional flashes of panic as I pull out onto the 'correct' side of the road. I had happily forgotten all of the rage that driving sometimes fills me with, and failed to truly appreciate the tranquility of a complete reliance on human powered or public transportation this last year. Driving makes life expensive, but also makes it so much more accessible. It may be sad, but something I really missed was singing in the car, it is my therapy.
My vocabulary is still evolving and I have caught myself saying 'rubbish' or 'pavement.' I am just about sorted on my spelling, removing the extra 'u' from several words and embracing the 'z' again. Yeah, that's 'zee.'

I've just about caught up on all my favorite American eats, although I haven't been to Cracker Barrel yet, which is a real crime. Soon.

Being back at work sometimes has felt like I never left the friendly faces and familiar places. Time is a strange sensation as I have been slowly catching up with people there.
them: "Well, hey! I haven't seen you in a long time!"
me: "Yeah, um, it's been a little more than a year, I guess."
them: "Has it really been that long?!"

So, I'm hoping that life will begin to feel less surreal and I'll stop feeling like I either came from or have arrived in some kind of parallel universe. I take great comfort in that once I'm settled into my apartment and get the sads over not being in England, I can curl up with a Cadbury double-decker and a nice cuppa and begin to plan my next visit.

See? I'm even avoiding finishing this post as if it is the last time I can mention Coventry or England. Silly me. Even the blog knows my love affair with England is not over.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dueling Blogs

-
I have the immense privilege to be sitting right across from Maddog Medic in the flesh. We aren't speaking, though he is listening to me. Want to solve this riddle? He is transcribing an interview he did with me for his blog at this very moment. And I too am blogging at this very moment! How crazy?! I am stationed this week at the EMS today conference to stock up on professional wheelings and dealings and learn some stuff. This is a wonderful conference full of networking and new products and I learned already that one dose of glucagon costs $130. That's out of control! I cannot wait to catch up on disaster literature and EMS tricks of the trade and get as many free pens as I can at the expo tomorrow.  As for now, I'm headed to a class on smart stuff and pediatric breathing problems.  I am surrounded by EMS nerds and I love it! I spent the day learning about things above my pay grade such as how to read a chest x-ray and how to differentiate between subarachnoi...
Click for More

Clothing Removal

-
Image
Last week I had a patient who fell from her horse while jumping at a show. When I got there the BLS crew had immobilized her and, well, that was about it. She was complaining of neck pain and at that moment couldn't remember what had happened. I used my horsey knowledge to build up a healthy rapport with a scared patient. In general, not a lot was wrong with her. My biggest problem was that she was on the backboard and still had on all of her fancy English riding clothes. I made my best efforts to get off her button up shirt with high collar and black outer riding jacket, but it caused her pain, and then I made it worse. Worse than falling off your horse, worse than the public embarrasment of having an ambulance called for you, worse than defenitly losing your show class, was the stupid paramedic who cut off your expensive riding clothes. I, too, had never felt worse for cutting someones clothes off. She cried and shrieked and you would have thought I was punching her in the gut. I...
Click for More

The Race

-
Sometimes this job is like a race. Like you're carrying this person on your back, and it's a messy race. You're tripping and sweating and you almost drop them. It's bouncy and there's trash everywhere. And if you can just get them over that line. To the line and throw them over. Throw them over and into the ER, you're obligation is fulfilled. Your job is done. You've won the race. And for a long time, that was it. Mission accomplished and I wasn't responsible for anything else. I didn't care about anything else. Get them to the hospital.  Dust my hands off and pat myself on the back. But somehow, they crept in. What did happen?  Did they live?  For the first time I asked myself.  I began to bring them home. I put them on a shelf and they stared down at me. They said, did you run fast enough?  Did you fall?  Did you drop me?  You threw me onto this island- over your line, but was it salvation?  I left in a hel...
Click for More