Game on.

The battle between doing something I love and doing something that pays the bills is raging.

Perfect Job is throwing it's defiant little purple nitrile covered fist into the air demanding attention. The Checkbook stares coolly and leans over to quietly whisper in Budget's ear, a evil smile slowly spreading across it's black leather face. Perfect Job cites the witnesses Contentment and Happiness as they prepare to take the stand. An muffled chuckle excapes the lips of Budget as Bills and Uncertaintly sit a little straighter in their chairs.


This is going to be a long one. The columns are about 75/25 and it isn't looking good for Perfect Job. *sigh*

I am made of win and awesome.

This is what happens when you yell and chew at the same time. This photo was taken about two hours after the incident (which occured over a year ago... I just stumbled upon the picture today). If you think it looks funny, you should have heard my trying to talk for three days. Yeah... I'm awesome.



What may have been more entertaining is the sight of me trying to take a picture of my own tongue.

Ack!

I have started at least four posts. I have many things going though my head, but I just can't seem to get them right, so instead here are the bulletpoints so I can move on and maybe even do something constructive today.


- Please don't call me if you know I was on a call where a friend/relative/coworker was involved. I can't tell you anything and you are wasting my time and energy as well as yours. If it involved a fatality, you will probably make me cry and I don't like crying.

- While I understand harnesses for trench rescue can be uncomfortable for men to wear, if you stop hiking the leg straps up so far the straps will sit mid-thigh and avoid most contact with your yam-sack. Thank the heavens above it will also prevent me from seing the intimate details of your schlong. One more thing... your harness induced hard-on is making baby Jesus cry.

- If you decide to piss another drivier off to the point where he is continuously giving you a single finger salute out the window, please do not pull in to MY driveway so they don't "mess with your stuff" at your house. ESPECIALLY since I am home alone for most of my time there. I would prefer not to get MY ass kicked for dumb shit you did.

- The Lieutenant came home early from work last night and I fell asleep before I could get any birthday nookie. I really am getting old.

- Thank you for complimenting my skirt. Since we have previously discussed shopping and sales racks, I assumed you would get a kick out of the awesome deal I got on it. My bad though. Thank you for correcting me. I didn't realize it was rude to mention the price of my clothing and to suggest the store from which I bought it. Next time I will just smile and say thank you.

- I found the twin to my now dog-treat skirt, this time in grey. My size was the only size they did not have. It's like being one number off on the lottery.

Happy Golden Birthday To Me.

As of 7:35am today I am now a 26 year old. Scary. I still feel like I am playing house. Heh.


The weekend was insanely busy and I am getting more tired just thinking about it. Good thing there is the backspace button and caffeine.




Before I go, a little riddle for you...

What do you do with a paramedic that can't do basic c-spine and immobilization?


No really, what do I do with them?

So it seems.

I am having a bit of a little panic moment here. We have failed to create a little mini-me and it appears as though we will in fact have to consult with a specialist on the 29th. I am super budget freak and I have no idea how we are going to pay for this and fix up the house. I'm sure it will all work out in the end, it always does, but I am still freaking the eff out.


Oooh sahhh... Right?


At least I have a weekend jam-packed with the celebration of the birth of yours truly to distract me. We'll see how much of a spaz I will be next week about all of this...

Darkness

WARNING: This post may be graphic for some.





I heaved a sigh as I pushed my chair away from the desk. I had just gotten into a groove when the tones went off. It hadn't been a good day and I wasn't looking forward to going on any calls. The dispatch stopped me in my tracks. Attempted suicide.

Every nerve ending in my body pulsed and a dark cloud planted itself firmly over my head. With the address only two streets down, I parked on the corner and waited. Tiny beads of sweat popped up on my forehead and prickled the back of my neck. Cursing under my breath I was anxious to get inside the house and do whatever needed to be done. My mind flashed back to a class I had taken. What should I say? What questions should I ask?

The sirens in the distance broke my concentration. It wasn't long before the lights joined the siren as they turned down the street. Greg and Jo were there, my thoughts weren't the only thing to keep me company anymore. Greg turned and started walking up the drive. The knot in my stomach tightened and the back of the throat started aching with dread. Jo and I filed into the back door right behind Greg, the unwavering veteran. Knowing he was there bolstered my confidence and steadied my hand.

The door swung open to reveal a man in his late 40's staring dismally at the kitchen table. His head rested in his hands and tears silently make streaks down his pale cheeks. He didn't move, he didn't speak, he barely even breathed. He just pointed to the stairs and flatly said, "downstairs." The word hung in the air dimming my optimism and sending my heart racing in my chest.

Greg turned and the click of his flashlight signaled our descent into the stairwell. My head buzzed as I stepped slowly and gingerly on each step. The paint chipped and worn away revealing tired and rotting wood beneath. Each step screeched, piercing the silence and mocking our intentions. Cans of homemade applesauce and summer peaches glinted beneath the thin layers of dust. Each one carefully placed on the hand crafted shelving unit that lined the wall, contrasting the other side that was veiled by a black sheet hung on thin wire.

Time slowed to a painful pace and I felt as though I had stepped in a puddle of tar and glue. I struggled to convince my feet to move towards the unknown behind the curtain. Greg smoothly stepped forward, his flashlight sending a beam through the black of the basement, a spotlight for little particles as they danced through the air. Jo, gingerly followed close behind while I manned my post with the gear and my frozen feet at the bottom of the stairway.

I could feel the telltale burn of vomit threatening to rise to my lips and I swallowed hard. Greg pulled the curtain back and his flashlight illuminated the face as if there was a light that was turned on inside of it. I choked back the scream of terror that almost passed my lips. My body shook with silent sobs of shock, horror and sadness and yet I couldn't look away. A thin trail of frozen drool and vomit ran between his lips and his chest. His eyes half closed swayed every so slightly as his body shifted from the weight it bore on the line. Jo reached for a pulse and years of horror movies flashed in my mind as I braced myself for this face to snap at her fingers, suddenly coming to life.

"Cancel the crew. No one else comes down here except the police."

Greg's voiced chased away the scene that was replaying in my head. A cold race of a shudder ran up my spine leaving gooseflesh in it's wake. I turned and slowly retraced my path up the steps that were now strangely silent. The weight of the heavy jump kit doing its best to pull the memories from my head failed as I trudged back to the sad kitchen. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and made my face blank as I reached for the door handle to welcome the sun on my face and brave the questions in the eyes of the family.

He was long gone. There was nothing to do except to document the tragety and try to forget.

Blog Award

Sam, from On The Clock has given me quite the nod with this award. If you haven't been over to Sam's blog, make sure you stop by. She is an incredible writer and an even more amazing person. So, here are the rules followed by my nominations.

The rules are as follows:
1.You have to pick five blogs that you consider deserve this award in terms of creativity, design, interesting material, and general contributions to the blogger community, no matter what language.

2. Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.

3. Each winner has to show the award and give the name and link to the blog that has given him or her the award itself.

4. Each winner and each giver of the prize has to show the link of “Arte y pico” blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award.

5. To show these rules.


Now, the dilemma of selecting only five blogs...

1. Lt Michael Morse at Rescuing Providence has not only become an inspiration of what kind of EMT I want to be but he has also become a good friend.

2. Epi is definitely one that you need to visit. I know that Sam has tagged her with this award as well, but I am constantly amazed by Epi. She is a ray of sunshine and wit and everyone should go and give her a little hello.

3. Artilery wife over at How Would You Like Your Placenta Saved is more than a great blogger. She has shown strength and courage and writes one heck of a post as well.

4. Tex, the mastermind behind Weird Nursing Tales will make you laugh, make you cry and then laugh at you for crying. Not really, but he is hilarious and will keep you rolling in the isles with his musical parodies.

5. Last but not least you have EE at Backboards and Bandaids. She is another EMT that is good at what she does and if you are not careful you may end up with some assorted beverage coming out your nose at a high rate of speed.



So there you go. There are five of my favorites, but not nearly all of them.

Mediocre.

There comes a time when you stop and realize that you really have no effing clue what the hell you are doing. I had this revelation yesterday. I have always thought that I was at least competent, but lately I am starting to think that I am just one step above mastering the art of not drooling on myself.

And they want me to train other EMTs... heh.

Happy Three Years To Us.

I love you Lieutenant, even if I am cranky some times.

This is a REAL Monday.

Today the Lieutenant and I rose at the buttcrack of dawn (much to my chagrin) to head out in search of some big fat Walleyes we could consume for our dinner. (We ended up withe the stand-by: spaghetti. Oh well.) With the cooler packed full of water and sandwiches, we headed to one of the many lakes in the area. Of course I was my charming, pleasant self until about 10:00 or when I caught my first fish. I'm not really sure which came first.

The first lake was pretty, well... slow. We did alright with some small bass and one or two pike. (I hate pike by the way. Nasty little spin-bait stealers...) But all in all it was pretty quiet. The lake was beautiful and the sky a blue I didn't know existed. I got bored with the lack if bites and decided to start in on the next book on the pile. It just happened to be some awesome chick-lit. Heh. Eventually it got warm enough that I could lose the three outermost layers and I sufficiently whooped the Lieutenant's butt in fish count, even with my hour and a half of reading. What can I say? The fishies love me.

We headed back to the cabin to get some lunch and short nap for the Lieutenant. I laid in the sun reading my smut novel.

We decided we hadn't had enough of fishing for the day, so we re-packed the cooler and headed to the lower lake. We did better there in two hours than we did in the five or so on the first lake. Nice. Some little punk ass pike stole my lucky spin-bait, but I was promised it could be replaced. And so it shall be, three-fold. The best part was, there were a total of three eagles circling over head and seemed to be following us along the shore. It was friggin awesome. I think I managed to get some decent pictures of that. I just haven't uploaded them yet. I'll get there, maybe tomorrow though. My blackberry wine is going down a little to easily right now. Thank goodness for the backspace or you would have an inclination to how good I'm feeling. ;o)

Speaking of which, I need a refill...

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Porkchops are simmering...
Rice is almost done...
Salad is crisp...

And the beer is cold.





Vacation is good.

When dumb people do dumb stuff.

Just a little FYI...

If your mini-fridge in your big rig pops open, bring your semi to a secured stop before leaving your seat to close it.

Otherwise you may, or may not end up with your truck on top of a 3' concrete embankment.

So ya know.





Also, the Lieutenant and I have our "court" date at the town hall tonight. (Think along the lines of Gilmore Girls.) We do get to find out who called 911 because our dogs were barking though. That could be interesting...

New Favorite

Tah-dah!

There she is folks. My very own purple laptop. We bonded last night as I set her up. I think I will keep her, even if I despise Vista.

Hilarity.

When man play with dolls...

Jaws of Life... *gasp*

First, let me put it out there that I love Morgan Freeman. I have enjoyed every movie I have watched that he had a role in. I am also very happy to hear that he is going to be okay after his recent car accident, but at the same time, I am dying over the dramatization of the use of the "jaws of life."

I guess I never really understood the fascination with the tool. Maybe it is because I have seen it used more often for popping open mostly undamaged doors. Or perhaps it is because it seems that the cutters do far more to free trapped patients. Maybe it is because whenever I hear jaws I think of the giant, man-eating shark that bid his final adieu when he got the business end of a scuba tank. Or maybe it is because I envision someone holding a shark, it's tail fin settled into the crook of his arm like an oozie, pulling the pelvic fin like a trigger in order to get it to mechanically chomp through the twisted metal surrounding a patient.

Who knows, but I still fall into a fit of giggles whenever the old biddies gasp and regale the tale of the us of the 'jaws of life'.

My sentiments exactly.

Assholes and Fishing Gear...

My weekend was filled with both. Saturday night, the Lieutenant and I headed out to visit our local Bass Pro Shops. Instead of busting my brain trying to figure out what gear the Lieutenant would want for his tackle box, I decided that our time would be much better spent if he just picked it out himself. So, being the awesome wife I am, I accompanied him as he browsed the isles and isles of spin-baits, top water lures and stink plastic worms. My patience was rewarded however, as I am now the proud owner of this.



That, my friends, is a Pfleuger, Medium 6.6, IM8 PINK fishing pole.

I do feel slightly guilty as I was not aware of the magnitude of awesome that this pole embodies. I patiently listened as the Lieutenant gushed about its construction and smooth reeling abilities. Apparently, I now have the nicest pole we own. Oh the monster fish I will catch with this bad boy, er girl.

I stole no thunder however, as the Lieutenant picked out a wicked new soft side tackle box and filled our basket with many shiny new lures. Rarely do I see a smile that wide. He was like a kid in a candy store and a pocket full of quarters.

My patience was also rewarded with the purchase of a brand new hat. Now you need to understand the magnitude of me finding a hat the fits my head. I have a head so small, I can wear childrens hats. (Imagine my dilemma with getting a helmet to fit!) So when I put that bad mamba jamba on my noodle, I literally squealed in delight, and subsequently was laughed at by my loving husband. Totally worth it for this...



$300.00 some change later, we headed home with our loot. Both of us grinning from ear to ear. I have to say, he is one lucky man to have a wife as awesome as me.



As for the day on the boat yesterday, it took us about an hour to even get on the lake. All I wanted to do was get into the water to try and cool off but noooooo. The assholes runneth amuck yesterday with their bad dock etiquitte and 18-year old 'it isn't my job' attitudes. I would say that the signs should be enough to help give explicit instructions on launching and general pointers, but then I realized most of them probably can't read. Oh well. We got in the water and were able to cool off. Hell, the Lieutenant even wore shorts for the third time since we have been together, but didn't go in the water. We learned our lesson and will be traveling the extra 45 minutes to the quiet, well hidden lake since driving is better than sitting and getting pissed off at all the half-wits.


In other news, vacation in T-minus 4 days. A week of sun, fish and the Lieutenant in a remote cabin. Need I say more?

The laptop has shipped. It should make it's debut on Wednesday. Eeek!

NSR: Week 7 - Toehead

Check out NSR for more "kids" related stories. Mine doesn't have much to do with being an EMT, but about the little boy I will never see grow up.




The drive to the mall was slow and painful. My old truck just didn't have the oompf it once did when it came to the air conditioner. If the heat wasn't bad enough, my raw nerves were going to finish me off. I hadn't seen T-bird in almost 6 months. It seemed to go that way since his visits solely depended my schedule and when I had time to pick him up and care for him while he was with us. I had rearranged the next few weeks and secured childcare for the times I couldn't be with him.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I could feel the hot acid coming up my throat. I was so nervous, I hadn't been able to eat any breakfast. I barely choked down a dry piece of toast and a sip or two of coffee. This was the time when I really started to worry. What if he didn't remember me? What if he doesn't want to come with this time? What if his poor three year old mind can't handle being away from his mother for a whole month? Choking back the doubt, I locked my truck and made my way through the heat to the mall's food court. I looked around, knowing I wouldn't be able to miss that white-blond head of hair. I started to panic again, thinking she had changed her mind and hadn't shown up. And then there he was. Quietly sitting at the table slowly munching his chicken nuggets after they had been dipped in honey. Immediately, my heart melted and I had to fight back the tears. He had to remember, he learned how to dunk his nuggets from me.

Slowly I came up to the table and said hello. Tracy stood and awkwardly hugged me. The pleasantries passed between us, even if they were forced and neither really meant it. It was just a way to cut the tension. I smiled at T and asked him how his nuggets were. He shyly smiled back and reached for more fries. I quickly ate my lunch next to him, chatting non-stop the whole time, desperately trying to win him over again before we left. After we had eaten, I gathered his suitcase and his car seat and his mom hugged him goodbye. I took his little hand and he bravely let me lead him outside. We stopped right before the doors to turn and wave one last time.

The ride home started off quiet despite the radio playing in the background. Hoping he would remember, I started singing the silly songs I had taught him during his last visit. It didn't take long before he was laughing and clapping for me to do it again. My heart soared.

When we arrived home, he was more than ecstatic to see his new room. Decorated with cars and Bob the Builder, he didn't know what he liked best. There were new toys to play with and plenty of exploring to do. I left him in his room to play while I started dinner. Shortly after, I felt a tug at my shirt and a little voice asked, "Can I help?" I pulled a chair in from the dining room and I showed him how to crack and egg. He did great, even if we did have to dig for a couple pieces of shell. Then it came time to knead the biscuit dough. He was in heaven and covered in flour from head to toe. He picked green beans to go with our dinosaur chicken and asked if we had ice cream for dessert because his daddy loves ice cream. My heart would melt all over again, every time those big blue eyes stared up at me, filled with love and admiration.

After dinner and his bath, it was time for bed. I asked him what story he wanted to read even though I knew which one it would be. I sent in his dad to read his bedtime story but he refused to go to sleep until I had tucked him in. There is nothing that will fill you with more joy, than the request of your love as final stamp on the day.

Every night was more of the same. Play time with cars, long walks in the yard, dinner at the end of the day. For weeks we sang, we laughed and played. It was our own little piece of heaven here on Earth.

The worst part of his visits were when I had to take him back home. No matter how much he missed his mom, he always hugged me before he left. I loved that little boy. Even though he was not my child, I held him when he cried, I soothed him when he was sad, laughed with him when he was happy and loved him as if he was my own.





The hardest decision I ever had to make, was to leave. I knew I would miss him and that a part of me would never be whole. Little did I know how big of a piece of my heart I would leave behind.