A Work in Progress

The dull thud, the distant crack of a bone, the visceral scream it produced. The subsequent sharp intakes of breath, the crunch of the snow beneath concerned boots as they jog toward him. After enjoying a hunt in the the snow muted forest, now laying on its floor, the reassurances of his friends break through fog of pain. In the distance, sirens began to travel through the trees. With the roar of the four wheel drive and the squeak of a struggling suspension, help arrives in the back of a truck. Radio chatter and loud questions were followed by his resignation to be treated. The snip of shears through his jeans as they progressed to the wound, the low 'ooh,' emitted when they got there. A few more explanations, clicks of backboard straps, and the bouncing suspension was back, all eventually drowned out by the dull whir of helicopter blades.

Before I got there, I chalked this sick person call at 2am up to relative nonesnese. And when we got there, my suspicians were initially confirmed when we found a hyperventilating woman who had...Okay, I'll stop. It's hard to describe how I think come calls are just not up to par. However I describe it on paper sounds absolutely awful, so I won't bother. And in this case, my initial feelings may have been based on my increased standards for a reasonable reason to call 911 after midnight than in daylight hours. But in this case, despite my preexisting notions, as I looked a little closer, this patient was ashen, sweaty, and complainig of chest pain. She was clutching her chest so tightly that the cotton of her shirt was crushed into the shape of her fist. The sharp wrinkles lingered after she released her hand. We got her into the ambulance and a quick 12 lead later we were on our way to the nearest interventional cath lab. The call went really well, and the patient...

I was happy to end on part 9, but the other day, a thought popped into my head, and my last Coventry story begged to be told. On to an even 10! My last British stereotype/perhaps actual real trait, is that of emotion. Or, the lack thereof. Good old 'stiff upper lip' and all that. Don't get panicked, or sad, or worried; wash it all down to an unreachable place with a cup of tea. Now, that sounds harsh! Everyone I met seemed perfectly normal, well adjusted, and happy to wear their hearts on their sleeves. Well, mostly. I think a lot of people are like me and play their emotions very close to the chest. Can't fault them for that. The one time I felt the stiff upper lip attitude was when I found myself crying in public. Again. After an amazing going away party hosted by the best friends I could have shared this whole experience with, I found myself faced with my last day in Coventry. It was much like any last day of higher education, strange, emotional, and diff...

Just a quick note to finish off a wonderful and strange year. Here's to more of them! 2010 was remarkable indeed for many reasons, but that doesn't mean I should stop looking toward the future. Though I temporarily lost my ability to think very far ahead, it's back and I firmly believe life needs wild ass plans. So, I intend to pursue the next one on my list. I think I've come up with a name for my little photography biz, but I'll have to confirm it with the board of directors. Ha! Agonizing over a name will probably be the least of my problems, as I have yet to sort out taxes, licenses, and other kind of important legal type stuff. All in good time. Other than WAP#2, I have in general, resolved to hang out with the people who matter more. A year away made me appreciate the important people in my life. And although more than ever are at a distance, and making time for them is difficult in any life, I'm going to try to be a better communicator. The ...

Last week we arrived to a dark house with no sign of occupants. Dispatch decided to give us the code for the door after we started searching for a loose window or a weak door jam. The patient couldn't come to the door of course, mostly because she was behind two more doors and up steep stairs. Oh, and her lungs were full of fluid. My partner and I carried her down the stairs and outside in time for more hands to arrive. She really had me worried for a second there. But, we got her on the good old CPAP and off we went to the hospital. My next shift, I met her again, when I came up to our CCU to transfer her to another hospital for a heart cath. She was bright and had color and didn't remember me at all. I said, "Well, you look much better than when I last saw you." "Oh," she replied, putting her hand on her head, "well, I have my hair on today." Although I meant she didn't look like she about to die, I loved how spry she was. We ...

I was reminded yesterday by my one regular reader that I hadn't updated in a while. She expressed her disinterest in my feeble change in title picture. Well. I should update as I've had some good days at work. Busy, anyway. All of the good calls come late at night. Like the young person who walked out to the ambulance at midnight, declared they had a UTI and then before saying hello, asked if we could arrange to take them home after their ER visit. Um...no. The other morning at 3, we went to see a 19 year old who had chest pain. That's all I have to say about that. Or, the patient who texted their significant other at 1am to tell them they had overdosed, when in fact, they hadn't taken anything at all. That was totally worth going to. Okay, okay. This post is not following with my new world view of every call is worthwhile and interesting no matter what hour we are called. Something happened in their lives to prompt them to call an ambulance. Some circum...

One year later I find myself again thrown into their weirdness of this job. We were called to a factory and half way to the patient, I looked down at my boots, wondering what I was stepping in. He had gotten his arm caught in a machine, and, although freed, one of his colleagues had agreed to show me the machine. Dodging puddles of ground meat and blood, he lead me to an industrial meat mixer which grabbed our patients fingers and twisted his arm until it broke. I felt bad for him as we took 10 minutes to carefully cut his many pairs of gloves he had on to protect him from the cold and meat to see just what we were dealing with. I used up all my Spanish and we had an easy ride to the hospital. It was a wicked x-ray.

From Essouria, we headed North up the coast stopping in Casablanca to see the worlds tallest miranet on the worlds's third largest mosque.  This was pretty cool, and is the only mosque non Islamics can visit, but we arrived too late in the day.  The next day we continued to an overnight in Moulay Bousalhem where we took a fishing boat out to search for wild flamingos in the lagoon by our campsite.  We did find some although, because the tide was going out we saw them from about half a mile away.  Still, I guess they were flamingos (I can't be sure).  It was great anyway, to be out on the water in this beautiful and tranquil area.  From there we traveled to Cap Spartel, home of 'Hercules cave' a cave where Hercules allegedly hung out to rest after carving the Mediterranean sea.  There is a cool formation here that is almost the exact shape of the continent of Africa.  We also walked to the beach and enjoyed our last afternoon there.  In the e...

  Many apologies to anyone who may be trying to make sense of the end of my trip. For reasons unknown I have been little inspired to finish writing it. Rather, I have had the best of intentions, but have been as easily distracted as if I were writing a coursework. Alas, I worry the magic of it all has been lost in sporatic storytelling. And even I can't remember if I've caught up to the getting home bit, it's become so long and sordid. That aside, Essouria, Morocco is a very cool place. After leaving Marrakech, it was a relief to be camped out by the seaside within walking distance of a small port town full not of tourists, but real Moroccans. Wandering the streets here was actually calm and orderly and we were not constantly hounded to buy things. Except when some of us went to get freshly caught seafood and ran a literal gauntlet of vendors to pick the least annoying one to buy from. Essouria is on the Moroccan Atlantic coast and is a working port town with a...

As far as I can tell, there's only one. Well, other than dropping the lens cap out the window on the highway. In 2006, I saw KT Tunstall in concert and didn't bring my camera, assuming that I wouldn't be able to keep it, and taking public transport, there would be nowhere to put it without having to trust the venue. It turned out we stood three feet from her, could have had a camera, and had none. Oh well. So, the boyfriend took me to see her again last week and I brought the fancy-cam, determined to get at least one good photo. At the door they checked in my bag and told me I couldn't take it in. them: "That's a professional camera, I can't let you take it in." me: "But, I'm not a professional." them: "Yeah, but since that's a professional camera, we can check it or you can put it in your car." me: "WTH?!....fine" (after some irrited sights and feeble protesting) I found myself again three feet fr...

I've described many towns and cities in my journal as 'lively.' It wasn't until I saw Marrakesh that I realized how  when concerning any other place, just how pointless the word was. Marrakesh is hands down, the strangest, busiest, and most chaotic city I've ever been in.  Describing it as lively would be the understatement of the century.  We arrived in the evening, settled into our riad and headed out into the Djemaa el-Fna, the central market. At night, the market becomes (even more) alive and a series of food stalls pop up as well as OJ stands, date sellers, fortune tellers, street performers, snake charmers, and all manner of people. Oh, and pickpockets too. We ate dinner right in this night market which was very exciting for me, as it is very difficult not to feel like a tourist in Morocco, but this experience felt very real.  We sat along a long row of tables, 24 of us squeezed into a table built for far fewer. It was a good dinner with plenty to eat, ...

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 c...

I finished up my 're-orientation' at work this week.  It was altogether great to get back into it and catch up with work people.  We ran a couple of 'good' calls and I feel pretty confident about heading back out on my own next week, I just won't know where I'm going, but that's nothing new.  It's difficult to work where I don't live- street names and directions are never reinforced.  Anyway, we met up with a far away crew for a guy with chest pains.  We got there, ready to believe that the call had been talked up by overexcited providers, but this patient really looked, if I can use the term, poorly.  He was, pale, drenched in sweat, had truly crushing chest pain and was struggling with the EMT to keep the oxygen on his face while declaring that he was going to die.  When certain patients say this, I believe them, as it is usually beyond theatrics, and I have heard too many stories of a patient saying they were going to die and then, well, they do....

When we arrived at Todra Gorge, the sun had already set, but even so, a quick look around helped us realize we were in a unique place. When we looked up, the sky was again filled with stars, although the stars appeared to be blocked out except for a narrow strip above us. It was strange to realize that we were not staying at Todra Gorge, we were staying in it. Our hotel was situated against one wall of the gorge and we slept on the roof which was wacky but fun. Laying on my back in my sleeping bag I looked up and followed the dark canyon wall as it rose a hundred feet in front of me. It was truly strange, but waking up to see where we were in the daylight was magic. The canyon's narrow passage passed in front of the hotel and stretched out on either side of us. Most simply, we were in a gorge and as the sun rose, it threw light on the dry, red walls of the canyon and was one of the most amazing places I've seen. I was the only one of our group to take a trek throug...

Alright, I'm going to try again to finish writing about Morocco.  From Fez we traveled all day to the edge of the Sahara desert.  After a long drive that literally drove off of the roadway into seemingly nothing, we  clamored onto camels and headed into the soft, red sand dunes.  In about an hour, as we watched the sun set, we arrived at the Berber camp where we had dinner and spent the night.  We had, predictably, a tagene that was great, had an adventure not finding the toilet, and were entertained by some of the Berbers who played traditional drums around the camp fire. The sand there has the most inviting texture and temperature.  Instead of cold and wet, the deeper I dug into it, the warmer and dryer it felt.  Burying my feet in it was like having a heater around them, and the sand felt soft and smooth and I was completely content sitting it it, doing nothing else.  I leaned back against it, spreading my arms out like a snow angel; my entire...

I hopped into the drivers seat of our new truck and as I pulled away I had several questions. "Where are the lights on this thing?" "Oh, okay...Where is the siren"   "Thanks.  Ooh! I like this!" "Um...Did we call responding?"   "Awesome." "Oh, One more thing.  Where are we going? Because all I care about right now is finding the button for the rumbler." It is with joy I have returned to work and I was given two weeks before the next schedule to hang out and acclimate.  My first day was like Christmas, other than the new truck, we opened a satellite station, and got some new toys (including two very new lifepak 15s! I know, squirrell!).  We've run some good calls in the last week, and it's really felt like I never left.  The new schedule comes out next week and I'll be back officially.  But I have simply been thrilled by driving fast, clearing intersections, and blaring the siren to the point of absurdity. 

Fes was our first foray into a large Moroccan city and it didn't disappoint.  We stopped first at a pottery where we saw them throwing Tagines (the dish of the national dish) and more importantly (or dear to my heart) they were making the most beautiful mosaic tables I'd seen.  The work was so labor intensive and amazing I could have stayed all day watching them make them. After a couple of other stops at an overlook and the royal palace, we headed into the Medina (or old part of town) where an enormous variety of goods, meats, and materials can be purchased.  Fes was founded in 789 and still boasts the oldest functioning university, located right in the city center.  We were led through the souks (market stalls) in the medina as there are thousands of roads in this area that are largely unmarked and very narrow. It was a feast for the eyes, ears, and nose to wander through the medina here.  We saw many, many merchants selling textiles, leather, meat, food, fre...

From the moment I stepped off of the ferry in Morocco, I felt conspicuous, confused, lost, and nervous for the first time in my travels.  I had to walk about a half a mile to my meeting point and I spent most of the time getting there refusing help from a great number of local 'tour guides' who could offer me...well, anything I wanted really.  Especially a hotel room, a personal tour, or the location of the nearest cash point.  One guy followed me to the nearest ATM, pointed it out to me and said "Don't you want to get some money out?"  Haha, really, does that work on people?  Another guy literally ran after me to ask if I needed somewhere to stay.  There are only so many times I can politely refuse things.  But Morocco has a way of testing that type of patience and I was just getting my first taste of it.  Happily, I found the meeting point, clamored into an 80's Mercedes taxi, and, clutching my backpack and hoped fervently that it would take me ...

I should probably start blogging again. Sorry It's been a while with narry a mention of Morocco details, what I'm up to now, or general belly-aching about how things are weird and different and my complete loss of the ability to make long term life decisions. What I have done is get rehired at work, woot! I start back on Monday and I am looking forward to being a semi productive member of society again. Secretly, I'm a little nervous and not totally looking forward to feeling like a stupid noob again. But I doubt it will last past the first shakey-handed IV start. Like riding a bike...I hope. Oh, and speaking of that, I took the bike out on ten miles of our old route and it was awesome! I was reminded just how crap my crap bike was. The kayaks got a work out today too, which was amazing. It took me a few minutes to remember how I got it on my roof, but after that it was all good. The weather has been unusually cooperative, and I am hoping to squeeze as many aut...

It is difficult to describe the feelings of joy, excitement, sadness, and utter weirdness I have felt over the last week. I finally arrived back in London after a tiring couple of days traveling and living like a hobo.  I felt such comfort and contentedness when I arrived, and I headed to my friends house, reunited with my suitcases, and overjoyed to stretch out on a proper bed. The next day, I absorbed my Morocco souvenirs into my suitcases, barely keeping them under the allotted 23kgs. 10 lbs of chocolate seriously doesn't help. And all of it is to give away.  Most of it. Some of it.  A few pieces. I spent part of the afternoon checking up on my favorites in the National Gallery.  Then I met my cousin which was super weird as we usually only meet once a year at Christmas.  But it was really awesome to catch up and exchange our love of all things British.  It felt as though it had been far longer than a month since I left Coventry as I met a couple of co...