A Work in Progress

Why do we fear aging? We try to prevent it, to stave it off. We wish to be younger, to pull the reins of time. We damn the wrinkles, dye the hair, cover the spots. We can’t wait to grow up, then can’t wait to stop. Still, we covet our parents’ experience, and long for our grandmothers’ wisdom. I do not fear age, no, I embrace the passage of time, as the older I get, the more I realize how stupid I was yesterday.

When I started this blog I swore not to blog unless I had something of interest to blog about. I think I've pretty much stuck to that. Except for right now. It has been a long time since my last post, and I don't really have anything interesting to post now. Technically I am wasting your time. The best thing to happen at work recently was when we got PEEP valves for our vents. Also, I got a few more items for my, what will now be, annual EMS Christmas tree . Still holding out for a good topper though. Any suggestions? Next week I should have the last of the pottery class pots ready for your visual enjoyment. They are more pot-like than the first batch. I have made small steps toward what I am calling "Wild Ass Plan #1." More on that later, I hope, but the stars must align for it all to happen. It would bring an interesting chapter to the blog though. There I go again, blogging about nothing. I have recently gone on a pretty successful 1st date. Second to f...

What happens when you open the side door of an ambulance into the screen of the zoll E series? It cracks the screen and makes it useless! What happens when you leave it on the desk of your boss and run away? Well, I'm not sure yet. I didn't have a bow to put on it as an early Christmas present, but I did leave a note offering my apology and first born child. At first glance I didn't think it was too bad, then I turned it on.

I am good at being single. I am getting used to it. I heat pizzas for one and laugh at my own jokes. I am independently minded, and find fun as the third wheel. I watch demoralizing chick flicks, have daytime fantasies of serendipitous meetings. I am self sufficient. I eat lucky charms for dinner and sleep late in the middle of the bed. I am bad at being single. I look and wait, but I don’t know where to find him. And when I do find someone I like, I have named our children, before I look at his left hand. When I feel lonely I don’t know where to turn. I settle for my cat.

Old search terms that I've been meaning to publish, but had not gotten around to it. I'm not sure these actually get you to the blog anymore, but they did at least once! "free pictures of full English breakfast" I'd rather have it in real life than in pictures. If I had any pictures, I wouldn't charge. "pictures of paramedics in England" I love that this yields my blog and pictures of soccer. "my health work in progress" Health is indeed a work in progress. "Surgical Crike and Pictures" Yahoo wanted to change this search to "surgical crimes and pictures." "aberrantly conducted" which google tried to changed to "apparently conducted" haha, sounds like pulseless elctrical activity to me. "work in progress good to go shirt" When the blog is popular enough to need a t-shirt, I'll keep this in mind. "what it means to carry junk in your pocket" A deep philosophical question indee...

A few days ago my state trooper preceptor was hit by a car while taking a jog on vacation. He has subsequently died from his injuries. I can’t begin to take on the feelings of his wife and children. But I know that he was a good man, and for a few twelve hour shifts three winters ago, he took me under his wing, showed me how to be a good paramedic, and kept me safe. He told me that with integrity, I could go anywhere in this business. How right he was. He was a preceptor who told me “You’re in charge.” and from there let me make decisions and run his scenes. How ironic it is to work on a medivac helicopter and die in a vehicle accident. I am sick with this loss. Link Link

Wind chilled wet hands steady the paddle against the wind, rhythmically slicing it into the choppy waters. The swell pushes me forward clumsily, as the spray leaps into my face. I am exhilarated, nervous, excited. The everyday produces a hard shell. Too many interactions with lifeless people. But here out on the water, I am freed. I shout it to the trees, to the heron in flight above me, to the sandy shoreline. I can still feel. My fears are put aside for one more day.

Major excitement and good vibes to my countrymen. I am extremely proud to be a part of history. Good history. I'm pretty much beside myself right now. There are more poetic things to say, but for now I'm too tired and exhilarated to form them. How far we've come. How far we have yet to go. But this is just a monumental step. I'm hoping that the results will be the same when I wake up tomorrow. I'm also hoping that things will indeed change in this country. Now for you viewing pleasure, the beating of our current president in effigy, before and after. It was surprisingly therapeutic. Turns out his head is full of paper and gum.

I've never had such power in one finger as I used our fancy touch screen to vote for president today. If you are American and reading this, please take the time to vote today! If you are not American and reading this, please pray that we have the sense to get it right this time! I saw a promising number of these stickers as I did some final shopping for my election party today. We are able to agree on at least one thing, we should all vote! I took my 92 year old grandmother to vote today, which made me warm and fuzzy inside. She has seen so much change in this country and is still excited to vote. Lets hope that there are no hanging chads, the electoral college works for us rather than against us, and for a decisive victory that can be declared today and not two weeks from now! The blog is usually not political, but today I can't help myself!

This job can wear on the heart. Can cause one to harden, and grow cold against the world. Everyday traumas and dramas, melt together, and even the extraordinary becomes a fading memory. Bloody gloved hands unconsciously go through the motions, methodically carrying out their tasks.

I am from a regular town full of regular people. People satisfied with purely living life. Sometimes I yearn for such simple desires as a two car garage, a dog, a big television. I am not special, yet feel unfulfilled. I’m a wannabe gypsy, a transient who fears the permanence of real life; of matrimony, contracts, escrow. But I have roots. Roots that are deep and don’t want to be exposed. Covered in the dirt of childhood, of old friends, of young and aging family members alike. I cannot just shake them off and plant somewhere new. I fear looking back with disappointment, but it spares my tail from being between my legs again. Still I search for the courage. A matter of closed eyes, trust games, and gambles. I take stock of where I’m from knowing I will inevitably leave again. Though I am inexorably tied to its people, its weather, its street names. But when I leave, I learn that where I’m from is where everyone else is from too.

Not that kind of pot, silly! Per request, here are some glamor shots of what I've been doing in pottery class the last few weeks.

Today I took a walk after work. It was a beautiful day, and although I never thought I'd voluntarily take a walk again, I enjoyed it very much. Today for the first time, someone thanked me for saving their life. I'm not convinced I did, but she was feeling better after some adeosine slowed her heart from 190 beats a minute and her symptoms went away. I was glad it worked out because the call didn't start well. First, I got lost on the way there. I'm going to go ahead a blame the lack of rural road planning. At one point I found myself at the junction of Hilltop Road and Hilltop Road. I threw up my hands and the ambulance crew took mercy on me an met me there. Once we found eachother, the compartment doors of my truck wouldn't unlock. I spent several futile seconds attempting to unlock them with my keys, but Iam generally key retardent, so I tried the switch for the 20th time and thankfully it worked. From there, I stepped into the ambulance, hoping that I hadn't...

Apologies for the lack of updates. No time to update, nothing to update, no internet at work, catching up on episodes of 30 Rock...one of these excuses should do. I have had some good calls recently. Including the suicide and the ROSC , I have had four tubes in as many weeks which is very exciting for me. The whole time I was at my first job I had one opportunity for a tube and managed to mess it up. That is the only problem with an all ALS system, skills are spread over so many people that often a great number don't get any at all. There is something to be said for suburban EMS. I had an arrest two weeks ago, and we abided by the rule of 'if we have to think about whether or not we should attempt resuscitation, we probably should do it'. He really was too far gone, but we got him intubated , cannulated , and gave him some drugs. When that didn't work we called med command for permission to stop. This was the first time I successfully used a Miller type blade. It wo...

With the exception of getting lost in a cavernous apartment building, the call couldn't have gone better. It came out as chest pain, and rapidly declined to cardiac arrest. There were no signs pointing us toward the correct apartment and we were left wandering around briefly cursing and looking generally confused in a creepy apartment building. We finally found the patient sitting on a chair looking not so great (and by great, I mean alive). We lifted her to the floor and I put her on the monitor, VF! (a deadly, yet treatable rhythm) We ended up shocking her six times. My partner gave her a host of drugs as I intubated her and when I looked up at the monitor again she was in a 3rd degree block (a very dangerous, yet treatable rhythm) I immediately fiddled with some buttons on the monitor and began to pace her. (giving her heart a little electrical encouragement) and she had a pulse! And a blood pressure! We had an interesting trip out of the ridiculous building as the cot...

I was walking to the store and passed by a line of cars waiting at a stop sign. As I passed, a back seat passenger rolled down his window, stuck his arm out and dropped some trash on the ground. Shocked, I stared open mouthed at him as my timid mind considered what to do. Impulsively, I turned on my heel and headed straight for him. I stopped for a second at the door staring into the car of teenagers. “I’ve got it.” I said angrily as I bent down and picked up the offending litter, and I walked off. “I’ve got it?!” that was my hard-hitting retort to this idiots selfish act. Freaking typical. Far better things ran through my mind as I walked away, almost prompting me to jog back to the car and go into an insane tirade about how dumb, spoiled emo kids are what’s really wrong with this world. Of course, I wouldn’t have taken the trash, I would have thrown it in his face, and informed him that he was in serious need of a haircut. At the very least I could have added “you jackass!” ...

There was a medevac crash in Maryland last week. Four people were killed including the medic and the pilot. Miraculously, one patient survived and is expected to recover. This is the first medevac accident involving the state trooper system in Maryland since 1986. I don’t really know what to say about it. Helicopters crash. It is the number one cause of EMS personnel death. But not here. I immediately, selfishly, thought it was some other service. I was wrong. I have spoken to several of my old classmates about it. The trooper system holds a special place for us as we all rode with them for clinicals. We are left feeling vulnerable, shaken, scared. They were untouchable. We are left incredulous, full of questions. How could this happen anyway? All supplied explanations seem doubtful to me. It is a frightening reminder, and we inherently don’t like to be reminded of our own mortality. My thoughts and prayers go to the victims and their families. I hope that their deaths ...

The grumbling diesel engine of our ambulance brought us to a stop at the light. On the corner there was a little boy waiting to cross, holding his mothers hand. I could see him staring at us. I looked over and with his free hand, he waved tentatively. I smiled and waved back at him. Leaning over, I touched a button and lit up the ambulance like a Christmas tree. It was nothing compared to his grinning face. I had never been so proud as the light turned green and we pulled away.

(because this is not a snake) Although this sounds like a made up story, I assure you it is not. Last week, a garbage truck clipped the cable line going into my house and tore it off the pole. It has been hanging languidly and uselessly off the building since then. I have been watching movies and have read a lot more than usual in the last few days. I am writing this update at work, where at least I have the internet. They are allegedly fixing it on Tuesday, but I'm not holding my breath. Maybe I'll have something to blog about by then.

I was nervous. I actually felt nauseous driving to the call, dreading what I would see. I was headed to a self inflicted gun shot wound to the head. I knew I would be the only ALS provider on scene and the dispatcher reported that he could hear agonal respirations over the phone. It was raining hard and all I could think was to drive carefully and breathe. When I arrived, the scene was crawling with people; cops, firefighters, neighbors investigating the commotion. I dropped my bags in the foyer and headed upstairs, deciding already to get the patient out as soon as possible. On the way in I passed whom I assumed was the patients mother. She was covered in his blood, and a police officer was with her. One more thing I could cross off my list of worries. I was met with a rather horrific scene where the patient had sat in a chair and pulled the trigger with the gun to his temple. There was a large blood stain on the chair and a bullet hole was in the wall next to him. He had fa...