Sorting out the pile.

Considering recent events, my ability to identify and manage emotions has been a bit lacking. It is more than a bit overwhelming to feel so many different things all at the same time. While most of the time I manage rather well (at least I *think* I do...) every now and then, out of nowhere something gets caught in my eye. I swear it has been super dusty in my part of the world lately. Maybe I should contact NASA and let them in on it, you know, just in case there is some meteor that is slowly falling apart somewhere in the atmosphere.

Last night Jo moved in. We marked the occasion with a few glasses of red wine and a Grey's Anatomy marathon. Not gonna lie... that damn dust cloud reappeared. It was far too easy to make comparisons from the show to my life right now. I know! Totally lame, but you all love me anyway. Right? RIGHT?

On top of all of this, I have managed my transition into responding calls rather well. Even though I seem to be rock solid on the outside, the inside is filled to the brim with doubt and uncertainty. Totally sucks actually. The first call was for a simple nose bleed. Except the patient had fallen out of bed and was being sent in for a CT. I thought c-spine precautions should be taken since he did take a header and the staff was sending him for CT. Perhaps not. I wasn't sure. I suggested we take the kit and board up with us and I was told we would run to get it if we needed it. I backed down. We heard the staff wanted a CT. I offered to go get the kit and board... I was reassured that he "wouldn't fit on the board anyway." I paused and contemplated re-stating my case, but I backed down. I didn't really have any patient care, just carried bags and manned the pen and paper. I had concerns and while I voiced them, I didn't feel the confidence to really support my case. Sure, the patient is fine with no issues, just a few stitched to close up a small tear to his lip but I still don't have that confidence in my skills and decision making anymore. Quite frankly, it scares the bejeebers out of me.

Saturday night I was confronted with another call. I was sleeping so soundly I found myself incorporating the beeping coming from my dresser into my dream. Somehow I managed to wake myself up and get out of the house. Of course this was after I ran around my bedroom like a lunatic trying to remember all the "steps" to getting myself ready and out the door. Retainer out... socks on... pants! Must have pants! Ooh, t-shirt. Cami isn't acceptable rescue-wear. Wait, phone. Must have phone. When I arrived at the station, I realized my gear was still inside. The world was dark and quiet, but the ambulance was gone assuring me there was indeed a call. I froze when I realized I forgot my pager. More than once had the repeat button assured me that there was in fact a call and that it had not happened three hours ago. With great trepidation, I called enroute. My biggest fear is calling enroute and dispatch questioning just where in the world I was calling enroute to. What can I say? I am a very deep sleeper. And paranoid to boot.

The call went rather smoothly. I was working with the C&E Show - quite possibly my favorite full timers. Now don't be going getting all big time on me now... I know you are reading this. Again, I played pack-mule and grabbed the pen and paper. She looked bad and there was the issue of the mystery DNR paperwork. I hate calls like that. You know the family's wishes, but without the proper documentation in your hot little hand, you cannot honor them. There wasn't much to do for her. O2 and comfort care. Monitor didn't show anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't until E started gagging that I looked up from the clipboard. I didn't want to know. The face he was making was enough for me. I started with the sympathy gagging. Apparently my stomach has backtracked in the last few months. My eyes watered and my stomach lurched and I didn't even know what he was gagging for.

Her pressure started dropping in the bay. Here was this woman who was dying and all I could think about was how vile the scene in front of me was. What kind of person does that? Thankfully the family had been contacted that the ER staff had gotten the request for only O2 and antibiotics if needed. I don't know how to describe how I felt as we sat there literally watching her die. I'm not sure how okay I am with that. It's just odd to stand there and do nothing while someone dies. Gives me the icks, even if that is what the patient/family wanted.

Either way, I'm back. No captain duties anymore which adds another ingredient to the emotion stew I have going on. For the most part I think I am compensating well with only a few little breaks of sanity here and there. I'm just waiting this out until that magical moment when I realize I'm good. Like truly and honestly good and not just saying it to try to convince myself.

In the meantime, I will try to keep my ramblings somewhat coherent.