A Work in Progress

Having house guests had the desired effect on me. We ate plenty of meals at regular intervals, rearranged the living room (for the better) and hung out like normal humans. My fridge was stocked and I bought a new chair. I learned I can deal with a dog, but that whole 24 hour job thing still gets in the way. In addition, they brought their bikes here and we had to justify that. I've been biking more in the last month than I have in the last three and it feels good and bad to be back on that track. I am reminded that the bike was expensive and I have to take it out to justify it. I was also reminded that if you stop exercise, it doesn't take long to feel like an out of shape lazy-ass. Inspired by my house guests' fitness, I have started back at the gym, which I immediately regretted when I climbed stairs the next day. But, fear not! Especially if it keeps snowing and unseasonable amount, I will have no reason to avoid it. The biking has been great and with only a f...

It is simple and concise. Far from elegant thoughtful yet chaotic, typed and careful. Paragraphs and lists. These are the reasons, the pains and unmet needs. The counting of the blessings. Thankful for the good times, it reassures and probably, assumes too much. This whole life in a few lines. Are these words enough, this simple correspondence. Enough for forgiveness, for understanding. Is it long enough to heal a broken heart. Is it desperate enough to make it okay, to pull the trigger.

I've been back a year today.  It feels somehow like a far longer time has passed.  A lot has happened, unhappened, and rehappened.  It's almost as though nothing has changed, though everything has.  And now I am out of 'life changes, deal with it' type statements.  It's been a great year!  And strange, but I am beginning to feel that strange is the new normal.  I haven't done anything with my degree from last year except to hang it on the wall.  I only yesterday applied for an internship that I am probably not qualified for.  But who cares?  I still love my job and the people I work with.  The commute is getting annoying and the pay stagnet, but at the end of the day, it's employment.  And that alone is saying something.  I would like to avoid lateral career moves, but something closer to home might be nice.  The photo selling wild ass plan is...um, going, and will probably be on hiatus until the spring.  After...

A few weeks ago we went on a chest pain call.  Chest pain is really our bread and butter, and most of the time it's people who have stable angina that just didn't go away.  Every once in a while, we get the good old STEMI, which is our decisive way to 'diagnose' a heart attack in the field.  These patients, like this one, stand out from typical chest pain calls.  They are often writhing around, unable to get comfortable, sweating like crazy, pale, and of course, have crushing chest pain.  This patient was pretty classic.  And as soon as I saw that it is not all dramatics, we headed straight to the nearest interventional cath lab.  I love these kinds of calls.  They are the times that I feel like we're doing what we're meant to do.  I sent the EKG tracing ahead of us so that they could assemble the cath team.  I love when they take us seriously.  'The cardiologist loved your EKG.' one of the doctors told me when we arrived. So, we ...

Well, I didn't exactly promise to write more.  I didn't even take the advice of the beer cap!  I've been in a bit of a rut, in writing and pretty much everything else.  I wish that I had a good excuse for it, but I really don't.  Believe me, I've tried really hard to blame something other than myself. I kind of feel like I need a little inspiration.  Luckily, I have found several sources. Firstly, last week three of my girlfriends had babies.  I was honored to be in the room with one of them to take pictures and it was truly the most amazing thing I have ever seen.  I have never been more proud of her.  And, who doesn't love babies?!  Crazy people, that's who. It was also great to leave her room, and slide right across the hall to visit my other friend.  Their babies were born 12 hours apart.  I hope they stagger the birthday parties!  It is inspiring to see friends build their family.  Nothing was more surreal than che...

A few weeks ago, a new colleague of mine and I went on a motorcycle accident. When we arrived, the patient was being held down by about six firefighters and police officers while he struggled and shouted and was generally barely under control. They might have let him up if he hadn't cracked his helmet, been bleeding profusely from his head, and wouldn't believe that he was in an accident despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. My boss came to back us up and was immediately on the phone getting command orders for some sedation. (Yes, don't make fun of our silly state that has to ask for stuff. It happens). And, sadly, we got a (relatively) useless order for 1mg of IM ativan. My partner drew it up, handed it to me, and then as I leaned over to jab it into the patients arm, my partner pushed an alcohol prep in my face. My first reaction was, "Um, what the heck is that?!" as I continued to push the med while my boss was kneeling on the patients arm whil...

Woah, Blogger.  Slow your roll.  I guess if you're not a blogger user, you don't know all of the wacky newness of their website, but it is confusing me at the moment.  A new post was requested.  So, here it is.  The end. I can't leave you hanging like that!  Well, there's not much to report really.  Let me think.  Is it scary that I have worked quite a bit in the last few days, and yet can remember almost none of my experiences?  It's not even that they weren't memorable.  I do remember one and I am working on a classic bit of depressing resqellie poem to dedicate to it.  I just can't write happy poetry. I have been slacking on the writing, both blogging and non blogging and I hope to fix that.  I wonder how many blogposts exist on the interweb that say "I will write more." and then six months or five years later there is another post that says "Wow, I didn't follow through there!"  Yeah, I'd like to avoid that.  I h...

Yesterday I was able to cross something new off of my list of things to do: survive an earthquake. Of course, I thought I might be somewhere more exotic than the Mid-Atlantic to fulfil this one, but I'll take it. To be fair, it is only amusing and exciting in hindsight. In real time, I felt, and I don't admit this often, but, scared. I hated the feelings the experience gave me. And I've come up with several reasons why. But I guess I should begin with the story. Several things happened at once. I was in our local mall for the first time in literal years, so I entered it like a foreigner, interested to see what had changed. Secondly, I was surprised, with no offense to her, (because I certainly didn't know where we were going) that my mom immediatly escorted us to the exact place we meant to be without any fuss. Marveling at the mall and our swift arrival with the neice and nephews in tow, the third strange thing happened, in that the floor began to shake. I...

Among the millions of mnemonics one learns in paramedic class, one I still remember is "C3,4,5, keep the diaphragm alive". This refers to three of the vertebrae in the neck which if intact, keep the phrenic nerve working and telling the diaphragm to move so that breathing occurs (among other complicated things that keep you breathing). But on a physically tangible level, it is the most simple. This tidbit of information is not an extremely useful thing to know as we don't have x-ray machines and if your not breathing we'll help you out regardless. But sometimes, it just cool to know. And it allows me to say things like "Well it wasn't C3, 4, or 5, because he was still breathing." Unfortunately, our patient wasn't able to do much other than that. It was a real lesson for me in spinal shock. This patient had well, one way or another, broken a window with his head which (I now know) broke some of his cervical vertebra and because there is no li...

I was at my part time gig where we hang out in triage and help out in the ER (crazy, I know!). But sometimes we get to play, bandaging and starting IVs and stuff before they get to the department. The other day, a guy came in, said he had a little chest pain and thought he should be checked out. It was kind of busy so one of my colleagues took him to a spare area next to triage and hooked him up to the three lead. There it was, ST elevation in II, III and aVF. So we got him straight back, did a 12 lead, talked to the doc, sunk some IVs and he was flown to an interventional cath lab within 20 minutes. I must say, it was kind of awesome. We got settled back in after that and about 10 minutes later another guy came in saying he just didn't feel right and thought he should be checked. The triage nurse and I put him in the monitor and low and behold: a STEMI! II, III and aVF again. It was deja-vu as I wheeled him back, we did a 12 lead, talked to the doc, sunk some IVs and he ...

That title sounds dirty, but for some reason I like saying it. I mean throat hole literally, as in a hole in the throat. And not one that comes standard. I went on a trouble breathing call, arrived to find a guy leaned over sitting on a bed struggling for breath. As he looked up at me, I noticed blood running down his shirt coming from his neck. It turns out that he had a trach (a throat hole, if you will) placed a few months ago. He was attempting to change the inner catheter when he began to think that he couldn't breathe properly. He promptly panicked as any normal person would, and then pulled his entire trach out as any normal person would? Either way, it left him, not feeling much better. To add to his distress, as he leaned over, he was occluding the hole. At a loss of what else to do, I took a regular endotracheal tube and shoved it into the hole, inflated the cuff, and he kind of felt better. By then, he needed a breathing treatment which I was happy to give a...

You've been neglected.  I've been focused on gluing photo mats together and making futile attempts at assembling an ez-up tent in my woefully too small back yard.  I've been working out a wild-ass plan with almost no mention here.  I've been going to work and going to calls, and yet, not one word to you.  I've been riding bikes.  I've even been writing, with surprising regularity, but not here.  How sad this is.  How can I stray so far from my roots? I've stuck ET tubes in peoples throat holes (literally) treated two MI's in 10 minutes, and used a KED board, and do you know about it?  No!  How terrible.  If you were a person you'd be pale and emaciated, searching for nutrition and sustenance.  But, fear not, blog.  You are loved.  Please do not be sad that your sister blog has been getting more attention as of late.  Hers is a specialty topic, and I'll run out of material soon enough.  Like the prodigal kayak...

Here's a little plug, for the now, (somewhat) official photography selling biz.  I have put some wheels in motion and spent some money and am almost ready to start selling photographs at craft fairs and the like.  I am particularly excited about my business cards which will be particularly awesome and officiall looking. There's not much to see on the site at the moment, but it's a start.  Please check back often to my sister blog and come on down to a show if you can.  (If I ever get into one!) Link: http://thesamesunphotography.blogspot.com/ email enquiries ellieunderthesun@gmail.com

I can't let this weekend pass without mentioning the inescapable behemoth that is Harry Potter. After a decade of waiting for the conclusion on screen, I have finally seen it, and my review is quite simple: It. Was. Awesome. As a book purist, surely nothing can replicate the excitement I felt madly flipping through those pages of the last book back in '07, but this movie came close. For the most part, it didn't feel rushed, the effects were wonderful, and every character got their moment in the sun. It was gory and scary and artistically raw when it needed to be. The changes from the book felt necessary for cinematic purposes, it felt truly epic and on a more tangible grand scale than in the book. Really, I just thought it was great. It is not every day that I see a movie and the audience breaks into spontaneous applause more than once, and I felt that at points, no one in that theatre was breathing. Much like Toy Story 3, I felt I could have probably cried through ...

Thankfully, the rest of the first week of camp went by with just the usual maladies and complaints to be expected of kids on their first extended sojurn away from their parents. Most of them dislike it when I am completely unimpressed by their injury or complaint. They expect quite a lot of reaction that I expect they are used to receiving at home. Sadly for them, I don't particularly care that they have scraped themselves, have found a minute cut on their pinky fingers, or have a tiny headache. Well, I do care, but I am not going to fawn all over them. Camp is character building and although some are legitimately hurt or sick, most of the time, I'll put a band-aid over something and send them on their way. I do love the kids that I can joke around with, I become incredibly sarcastic and when they can tell I'm joking, it is a lot of fun. One kid came to me with a microscopic cut on his thumb. "Oh, my, look at that! What happened?!" "I don't rea...

I am back again as camp nurse this year, and although it's just the first day, it has already been amusing, to say the least. We always start camp with a good old fashioned nature hike at the beginning of each week. Last year, apparently everyone got a little 'misplaced' on the hike and it ended up taking twice as long and they had to come get the youngest campers in a bus and it was all a huge mess. As soon as I heard this story, I was suddenly very glad to have missed it. Other adults came along this year to ensure that the hike would be back to its usual length. Somehow, though, this didn't work out. I'm not sure when it became clear that we had taken a wrong turn but as we entered the second hour, even the least astute camper had noticed. I was more concerned with the inordinate amount of campers being stung by bees. It was like an M. Night Shyamalan movie. The suspense built, first a couple of kids were stung, then a while later four or five more, then...

There is nothing like parting traffic with a wailing siren. Nothing like stepping over puddle of blood to get to the patient. Nothing like sinking those IVs and pushing those meds. There is nothing like having a backboarded patient throwing up while we are being driven emergency through a city. Nothing like fishing out a basin while dumping the entire contents of a cabinet onto the floor. Nothing like heaving the board on to its side and balancing it on my thigh while clinging to the center bar like a crazed monkey. Nothing like having to tell the patient he has no need to apologize. Nothing like that hard turn that nearly dumps me into the puddle of sick. There is nothing like giving a clean, clear yet unrehearsed report to the trauma team. Nothing like telling a doc that 'you might want to leave that strap on, it's holding him to the board.' when moving the patient. Nothing like the renewed fresh smell of a clean ambulance. There is nothing like this job.

I must have let it be known in the previous six years of the blog that I mostly hate summer.  Almost exclusively because it's hot.  Secondly because there are school age kids in public in the middle of the day in the middle of the week.  But mostly it's the heat. A couple of weeks ago I got a hair cut (well, all of them, budum, chee!) mostly because the summer is hot and I hate it and the long hair really gets annoying.  But my hair is now just a little too short to pull back and must nearly constantly be beaten into submission and forced behind my ears.  This is fine unless I'm doing, well, anything. Last week at work I ran a cardiac arrest and I found myself poised with a laryngoscope and taking a time out to pointedly put my hair behind each ear.  It took about 20 seconds for my hair to wriggle out and then be perpetually in my face because I didn't want to touch it with my dirty gloves.  That, plus the heat of the day was causing me to sweat in a...

I press my fingers into the bruise on the back of my right hand. It does not hurt enough. It does not take their pain away, It does not save him. Hand on top of hand, I did my best to pump his dying heart back to life. Never wishing so fervently for a patient to open his eyes and smile at us as we congratulate ourselves. A slow leak in the brain has left her a widow with only one month in. Does he have to die, to remind us to live? All of our tools could not compete. Could not reverse the damage. Still I plead with his heart. Just start again and we’ll give you what you want. I press my fingers into the bruise on the back of my right hand. It does not hurt enough. It does not take their pain away, It does not save him.

They had picked up a patient at the nursing home and were coming down the hallway with him on the cot. Ahead, two women were side by side shuffling down the hall in their wheelchairs. “Ooh, it's a race!” she exclaimed as they approached, pointing at the lined up wheelchairs. Her partner laughed "Who's gonna win?" They stopped the stretcher behind them and she walked up and squeezed the shoulder of one on them. “Do you mind if I push you along a bit, dear. We just have to get by.” The wheelchair bound woman agreed and picked up her feet. The EMT pushed her up and left her six feet in front of the other woman so that they could get the stretcher by. As they passed, she pointing behind her with her thumb and, shaking her head with genuine concern said, “The other lady will never make up that time.”