No I am not talking about that itch. I'm talking about the need for patient care. My "real" job involves a lot of one on one time with a computer monitor and while it pays incredibly well, it isn't my 'thing'.
My family often jokes that I was born to do this. Between watching surgeries on tv while mowing down burgers or patching up my brothers without even flinching, they decided that I was destined to be in the medical field. My dad always pushed me to go to nursing school. I had the want, but not the will. I was young and stupid and "madly in love" so schooling was pushed further and further down my list of things to do.
Eventually I enrolled myself into EMT-Basic to see if I could "handle" the real blood and guts, not just the injuries that would result from backyard spats between my brothers. From the first day of class, I was hooked. I am still an EMT but a nurse I am not, despite my 'chops' for the medical field.
Flash forward 4 years and there I sit in massage school. Granted this program was no fluff and buff froo froo voodoo massage school. It was A&P, Pathophysiology, Kinesiology and more. And it was hard. It was challenging and I loved every second of it. I was convinced that doing medically-based massage was going to trip my trigger and whet my appetite for patient care. Boy howdy was I wrong.
Now, 5 years after I completed Basic, I sit at my cube in the cube farm and wonder and dream. I have realized I NEED it. It isn't a want. It isn't a 'cool thing'. Medical care is me. It is who I am.
I suppose at this point you are wondering why I don't just go back to school. Easier said than done. I have a husband, a mortgage, two car notes and three dogs. Top that off with the unsucsessful attempts at kids, the doctor visits to figure out why and a still healing husband and you have a glimpse at my life.
Every now and then I pretend that I could just up and quit, take a massive pay cut and work as an ER Tech or a FT EMT. I dream and let myself think it is a possibility for a bit, well, just because. And then I wake up, realize that is not how it is and die a little inside.
There is always a constant battle in my head between staying and going. The responsible side says "Stay, you've got it made in the shade. Besides you can't give up this pay and bennies!" And then the real me rears her sassy head and says "Eff that! Why spend your life wishing and wondering. Make it happen."
Who knows. Maybe some day I will throw caution to the wind and do what my heart wants and not what my head wants.... but then again, maybe not.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Scars
The tones woke us from our deep sleep. I sprang out of bed pulling my socks on as I walked. I didn't bother to swap out my PJs for jeans as my turnout pants would cover the silly cartoons that danced over my legs.
As I pulled into the station I counted the cars that were there. I had a full crew, but they had all just finished Basic within the last 4 months. Cody drove, and I ran the radio. The first in report came from my mentor and the urgency in her voice sent a chill racing up my spine. I barked out instructions that no one was to approach the car unless I specifically told them. They were all far too green to deal with this right now.
We pulled up to find the car embedded in the oak tree. To get to the patient, one had to maneuver through two thorn bushes and squeeze between the biforcated trunk of the massive oak. The tires were missing and there were car parts scattered about as if a bomb went off inside the passenger compartment.
We all started circling the car like vultures, trying to distinguish the best way to get to the broken body inside. The fumes urges us to hurry the clock loudly ticking in our ears. Finally a door was opened and the weight of the man inside was pulled from the debris.
The weight felt awkward to my muscles. It was a motion they had never before completed, pulling on a lifeless form. My hands instinctively went to his head as the other EMTs brandished their trauma shears and did their duty to reveal the flesh underneath the tattered and stained clothing. The count was made and the lift was smooth. My hands transitioned on the sides of the head, a motion they had grown accustomed to over the years, but this time it was different.
My fingers settled in. Farther than they ever had. They cried out to find the resistance of skull, but instead eased into the fleshy abyss. My heart sank to my feet and my face flushed with my own blood. As my blood rushed up to my face, his rushed down the leg of my pants and into my sleeve. The weight of it all, running from his lifeless body. I called out. I needed the reassurance of eye contact, a nod, anything. I pleaded with the faces that were turned down on the patient to look at me, but all I saw were plaquards and shields.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes demanding that I calm down. I could feel my throat getting tight and the burn start behind my eyes. I was screaming inside, but my stony face revealed nothing.
Out of the chaos, my lips moved though I had not thought that they should. They pleaded that someone take my place. They begged. The tears dripping off my words, the fear flowing out of my mouth chasing the doubt my tongue was unleashing.
The jagged breaths came in gulps. The tears exploded from my eyes. The blood raced down my leg racing death to my feet.
Blackness. There was nothing. I could feel my body moving, but I was helpless in my own shell. A mutiny was taking place in my muscles as my hands released their sad grasp and my feet plodded one after the other.
I saw a face in front of me and I recognized it. His lips were moving and yet I heard nothing. It did not matter because his eyes betrayed him and easily shone with fear and worry. He started glancing about, yelling something my ears could not translate. I felt my arms become encircled with steady hands. Hands that seemed to send strength back into my heart and my body.
I started to understand the words, but only in fragments. I saw blurry faces through the sea of tears. My helmet was removed, my gloves peeled away. My coat was taken from my back and replaced with a blanket. My turn out pants and boots were next to go, revealing the happy dance of the characters underneath.
I sat. I cried. I fumed.
I was angry. I was disappointed. I was pissed off.
I was the experienced one.
I was the one that should be able to handle this.
I was the example to follow.
And here I sat. Crying. Covered in a strangers blood and brain matter. All the confidence fleed from me faster than the tears that ran down my blood-streaked face.
I sat on the bumper, pulled my knees to my chest, buried my face and sobbed. Body wracking sobs consumed me. I was a failure.
I drive by that tree at least twice a day. Some days I have to take a different route because I just can't handle the doubt that creeps back into my mind. The tree is still scarred and somehow I think it validates how I feel. Just as that sturdy oak will carry the scars of that night, so will my heart.
As I pulled into the station I counted the cars that were there. I had a full crew, but they had all just finished Basic within the last 4 months. Cody drove, and I ran the radio. The first in report came from my mentor and the urgency in her voice sent a chill racing up my spine. I barked out instructions that no one was to approach the car unless I specifically told them. They were all far too green to deal with this right now.
We pulled up to find the car embedded in the oak tree. To get to the patient, one had to maneuver through two thorn bushes and squeeze between the biforcated trunk of the massive oak. The tires were missing and there were car parts scattered about as if a bomb went off inside the passenger compartment.
We all started circling the car like vultures, trying to distinguish the best way to get to the broken body inside. The fumes urges us to hurry the clock loudly ticking in our ears. Finally a door was opened and the weight of the man inside was pulled from the debris.
The weight felt awkward to my muscles. It was a motion they had never before completed, pulling on a lifeless form. My hands instinctively went to his head as the other EMTs brandished their trauma shears and did their duty to reveal the flesh underneath the tattered and stained clothing. The count was made and the lift was smooth. My hands transitioned on the sides of the head, a motion they had grown accustomed to over the years, but this time it was different.
My fingers settled in. Farther than they ever had. They cried out to find the resistance of skull, but instead eased into the fleshy abyss. My heart sank to my feet and my face flushed with my own blood. As my blood rushed up to my face, his rushed down the leg of my pants and into my sleeve. The weight of it all, running from his lifeless body. I called out. I needed the reassurance of eye contact, a nod, anything. I pleaded with the faces that were turned down on the patient to look at me, but all I saw were plaquards and shields.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes demanding that I calm down. I could feel my throat getting tight and the burn start behind my eyes. I was screaming inside, but my stony face revealed nothing.
Out of the chaos, my lips moved though I had not thought that they should. They pleaded that someone take my place. They begged. The tears dripping off my words, the fear flowing out of my mouth chasing the doubt my tongue was unleashing.
The jagged breaths came in gulps. The tears exploded from my eyes. The blood raced down my leg racing death to my feet.
Blackness. There was nothing. I could feel my body moving, but I was helpless in my own shell. A mutiny was taking place in my muscles as my hands released their sad grasp and my feet plodded one after the other.
I saw a face in front of me and I recognized it. His lips were moving and yet I heard nothing. It did not matter because his eyes betrayed him and easily shone with fear and worry. He started glancing about, yelling something my ears could not translate. I felt my arms become encircled with steady hands. Hands that seemed to send strength back into my heart and my body.
I started to understand the words, but only in fragments. I saw blurry faces through the sea of tears. My helmet was removed, my gloves peeled away. My coat was taken from my back and replaced with a blanket. My turn out pants and boots were next to go, revealing the happy dance of the characters underneath.
I sat. I cried. I fumed.
I was angry. I was disappointed. I was pissed off.
I was the experienced one.
I was the one that should be able to handle this.
I was the example to follow.
And here I sat. Crying. Covered in a strangers blood and brain matter. All the confidence fleed from me faster than the tears that ran down my blood-streaked face.
I sat on the bumper, pulled my knees to my chest, buried my face and sobbed. Body wracking sobs consumed me. I was a failure.
I drive by that tree at least twice a day. Some days I have to take a different route because I just can't handle the doubt that creeps back into my mind. The tree is still scarred and somehow I think it validates how I feel. Just as that sturdy oak will carry the scars of that night, so will my heart.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Poop Breath
So Rick and Will live right down the road from me. Since both of them are terminal bachelors, I am the one they call when they are sick. Yesterday was no exception.
Being the loving, kind and big-hearted sister I am, I dropped off some Dayquil, Nyquil, Sudafed and some plain old Tylenol. I had to bring the pharmacy because the only description I could get out Rick was "it hurts everywhere." I dropped them off, popped open some Nyquil and set a glass of ice water and a cold G2 on the coffee table. Later I get a text... "I puked." Um, thanks for the update?
Today, I stopped by on my way home from work to see how he was feeling. And do you KNOW what he told me?
His puke yesterday, was special. Very special. How so you ask? Well I ask in return, are you SURE you want to know? Because, Oh My Freaking God it is not right. If you don't want to know, stop reading. Now. I mean it.
Okay, you are still reading. It's your own fault now.
When he barfed, he said that it was the consistency of poop. He POOPED out his mouth. Granted he did have strawberry frosted mini wheats for breakfast, but come on! Not only that, but it still tasted like the damn cereal. At this point I was gagging.
But WAIT! There's more.
It didn't come out like normal vomit. Oh no! It came out... yes, like a turd or soft serve ice cream, depending on which brother you are speaking to.
AND...
It took three flushes to get it to unstick from the bottom of the toilet and go down the drain.
I don't know about you, but never again will I be able to eat Strawberry Frosted Mini Wheats again. *shudder*
Being the loving, kind and big-hearted sister I am, I dropped off some Dayquil, Nyquil, Sudafed and some plain old Tylenol. I had to bring the pharmacy because the only description I could get out Rick was "it hurts everywhere." I dropped them off, popped open some Nyquil and set a glass of ice water and a cold G2 on the coffee table. Later I get a text... "I puked." Um, thanks for the update?
Today, I stopped by on my way home from work to see how he was feeling. And do you KNOW what he told me?
His puke yesterday, was special. Very special. How so you ask? Well I ask in return, are you SURE you want to know? Because, Oh My Freaking God it is not right. If you don't want to know, stop reading. Now. I mean it.
Okay, you are still reading. It's your own fault now.
When he barfed, he said that it was the consistency of poop. He POOPED out his mouth. Granted he did have strawberry frosted mini wheats for breakfast, but come on! Not only that, but it still tasted like the damn cereal. At this point I was gagging.
But WAIT! There's more.
It didn't come out like normal vomit. Oh no! It came out... yes, like a turd or soft serve ice cream, depending on which brother you are speaking to.
AND...
It took three flushes to get it to unstick from the bottom of the toilet and go down the drain.
I don't know about you, but never again will I be able to eat Strawberry Frosted Mini Wheats again. *shudder*
Aw Crap.
Henri has kennel cough. I am supposed to seperate her and the other two dogs and she is on antibiotics for two weeks. How the heck am I supposed to seperate them? Oiy.
Happy Frickin Monday.
Edit:
Two weeks of antibiotics... $75.00
Seperate water dish and food bowl... 37.86
Walking in the door barefoot only to step a pile of frothy slimy dog sputum... priceless.
Edit:
This is breaking my heart. The poor thing doesn't do much besides hack and cough and heave. As long as she is laying down doing nothing (Read: locked in the laundry room by herself) she is okay. I feel bad having to lock her in there, but at least then the coughing/hacking/gagging/spewing is lessened. Those damn antibiotics better hurry up and make her feel better. Poor thing.
Happy Frickin Monday.
Edit:
Two weeks of antibiotics... $75.00
Seperate water dish and food bowl... 37.86
Walking in the door barefoot only to step a pile of frothy slimy dog sputum... priceless.
Edit:
This is breaking my heart. The poor thing doesn't do much besides hack and cough and heave. As long as she is laying down doing nothing (Read: locked in the laundry room by herself) she is okay. I feel bad having to lock her in there, but at least then the coughing/hacking/gagging/spewing is lessened. Those damn antibiotics better hurry up and make her feel better. Poor thing.
PRESENTING...
HENRI!
I created a nice long blog about her but my internet at home was being stupid and blogger wouldn't save my post. So a summary will have to do. Picked her up on Thursday night and Henri and Brick decided they have a shared love for tennis balls. I believe I have at least 10 of them hidden throughout my house now. Friday, Mom helped me take all three of them to the vet. Two hours, $376 and one tick later, we were headed back home. Henri is still getting adjusted to our schedule, but so far, so good. Here is the pup!
Saturday we had a practice burn. It was cold, rainy and windy as all hell, but it was a great training for the Lieutenant as this was the first time since his accident that he has done interior work. He was sore afterwards, but the grin on his face was enough to see it was worth it (not to mention the mild case of bunker crotch).
Yesterday we had a nice afternoon out on the lake. I almost got skunked, but caught the first fish and lost another next to the boat (need to remember to keep the darn rod up!). But in the end, the Lieutenant smoked me and I lost the bet.
This week is going to be insane as I have somewhere to be every night. I'm not looking forward to it, but hoping for good news tomorrow.
I created a nice long blog about her but my internet at home was being stupid and blogger wouldn't save my post. So a summary will have to do. Picked her up on Thursday night and Henri and Brick decided they have a shared love for tennis balls. I believe I have at least 10 of them hidden throughout my house now. Friday, Mom helped me take all three of them to the vet. Two hours, $376 and one tick later, we were headed back home. Henri is still getting adjusted to our schedule, but so far, so good. Here is the pup!
Saturday we had a practice burn. It was cold, rainy and windy as all hell, but it was a great training for the Lieutenant as this was the first time since his accident that he has done interior work. He was sore afterwards, but the grin on his face was enough to see it was worth it (not to mention the mild case of bunker crotch).
Yesterday we had a nice afternoon out on the lake. I almost got skunked, but caught the first fish and lost another next to the boat (need to remember to keep the darn rod up!). But in the end, the Lieutenant smoked me and I lost the bet.
This week is going to be insane as I have somewhere to be every night. I'm not looking forward to it, but hoping for good news tomorrow.
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