Excitement, terror, anticipation

There is an extra little sign dangling off of the 'for sale' sign in the front yard today. It says 'Under Contract'. Two words that fill me with many emotions; mostly excitement, terror, and anticipation. It seems that WAP #3 has progressed rather quickly, more quickly than I expected. But, I've discovered that for me, house shopping is much like dress shopping. I know when I've found one I like, so why keep looking?
Pending maintenance demands and official applications to go through, in a little over a month, I'll be moving my stuff into a 95 year old townhouse in my hometown. I've learned a lot over the last couple of weeks, mostly that mortgages are complicated, houses are needy, and my signature never looks the same way twice. I've never signed and initialed so many things in my life! The most ludicrous thing I've had to acknowledge, other than the dangers of lead paint and radon, I signed a paper that warned me that in this county, sometimes, I might smell manure or have to drive behind a tractor. Though I doubt I'll be smelling manure in the city center, I know now that I can't sue the world to compensate for my suffering. More worrisome, is that someone probably did try to sue the world for having to smell a farm, prompting the need for this disclosure.
So there's that. Weird. It feels so adult and I'm not sure I like it. Though I am very stoked about the whole thing. Then I'm terrified. Then excited. Then scared again. It's cyclical.
For now I'm off to stare at paint colors, research tankless water heaters, and daydream about solar panels.

Blogiversary 6

It's that special time of year again when the blog and I go out on a romantic date and talk about ourselves and gush over each other until everyone around us is nauseated.
I suppose it is time, as I suggested to myself last year, that I write this entry without the air of incredulity of years past. This year, I can believe I'm still a blogger and that it's been six crazy years.  Writing the blog seems a part of me for sure now and it's not so surprising that I'm still doing it.
I'm sorry I've only written 25 posts since my 'setecientos' back in September. It seems a lot has happened, but not much that has yielded blog posts.  I think too, I am getting back in the swing of EMS writing- it seems a bit weird after so long.  I am also wary of sharing snippets of strangers lives, and am trying to preserve privacy as always.
Also, it is my fervent hope that I'll have more to talk about in coming months including the progression of wild ass plans 2 and 3.  Two is coming along at the moment, and most of that writing will probably be on a different blog (to be officially revealed in time).  WAP 3 is the recent desire and ability to own a house. It really is a work in progress, and I am sure the nervous waiting is only in its infancy for me.  For now, I'm off to field phone calls from realtors, banks, insurance companies, and contemplate how I could possibly be excited about going into such debt.

But, happy anniversary blog!


Last week, I got my first thank you card from a patient. It was really great to be thought of, and although I don't think we did anything above and beyond on the call, I did remember it. Most STEMIs are memorable.
The patient had chest pain, of course, and he had gone to his primary doctors office. The doc saw ST elevation and called 911 to take him in. This patient was virtually asymptomatic when I got there, but a quick glance at the 12 lead was all I needed. I read an article that said that the longer you stare at an EKG, the more anxiety it produces in the patient. In this case I didn't need to look long, and I'm sure my face gave it away anyway. So I did my own 12 lead and sent it to my general hospital while my partner got on the phone to the ER doc to 'get permission' to transport this patient to a hospital with a cath lab.
We were all packed up and ready to go while she was still on the phone with our ER doc who was hesitant to let us take this completely stable MI patient 20 minutes away. It is, of course, absolutely ludicrous to consider for one second to take this patient to our little hospital when a perfectly fine one is only 20 minutes away. After much hemming and hawing, we left for the fancy hospital.
Now, he was stable, but was a STEMI, so I asked my partner to get us through the traffic of the town. Until this point the patient had been a tough old cowboy who clearly hated the thought of any fuss being made over him. He had been stoic, moody, and to be fair, a bit impatient with us despite very little time lost with the whole consultation thing.
But, the second my partner hit the siren to get through an intersection, this stoic and cantankerous guy suddenly burst into tears and for a moment I was as surprised as he was, and for another horrible second, I thought he was faking.
I quickly explained the sirens and the other hospital and all that until he was comforted enough to stop. It really was an uneventful ride (as MIs go), and I was extremely gratified to find the cath team assembled, and everyone ready to receive our patient when we got there. In fact, the stars must have been aligned, as we transported him right to the cath table, and he was completely sorted out before we even got home.


Sometimes, no. Oftentimes on calls, little funny thoughts pop into my head. I refuse to say them, of course, because they are either rude, sick, or generally inappropriate.
One evening we were called to an old guy who had tripped on the rug, fell, and wacked his head on the edge of a table. The staff at his nursing home described quite a big gash, but by the time we got there they had it all wrapped up under a huge bandage.
Like many old guys he was a little confused and although had been through a bit of a trauma, he had also forgotten why there was a bandage on his head.

Patient: "Can't you take this big thing off my head?!"
Me: "We can't, 'cause it's keeping your brains in!" (OMG, did I just say that?!) Before I knew it, the words were out and I failed to grab them on their way past my lips. Then came the overly loud giggle, the nervous giggle, and finally the awkard silence.
These are the jokes everybody. I'm here all night. Tip...your...waitresses, I gotta go.

The Neglectful Blogger (or some such)

Many apologies to my limited (but I'm sure dedicated) readership for lack of entries. It kind of is due to lack of things happening. Work, despite the weather recently has been slow, and I don't mind saying it. Slow, slow, slow! Quiet, quiet, quiet! Take that, EMS Gods! Maybe that will work.
We've expanded our service area to two new satellite stations, which is great for response times, but hard on volume, now spread amongst two more providers. Once all the box numbers get sorted out, it should get better, and I am pretty stoked that we stole area from an inferior local medic unit. When towns are so desperate to get rid of you that they'll offer another service a station, TV, parking spaces, and a whole load of other nice stuff, it must be bad. And really, to impress some of these places, all we have to do is use our light and sirens and show up. That is an improvement over the old service.
But I digress (as usual). I have used some of my time at work to get a leg up on the photography business. Lots of research has gone on, and I finally have some actual pictures to sell. All that stands in our way is that fractious name, tax offices, and uptight craft fair committees. I think we've got it figured out for the most part, and it's just a matter of tipping that first domino. I'll be sure to keep you posted, dear readers.

Other than that I cooked some Indian food, tested the four wheel drive, and washed my car for free.

Happy new year, rabbits.