Well, where do I start? My goodness it's been a long time since I've taken the time to put thought to "paper". Not that I haven't had anything to say, but there has been a lot of stuff that has either prevented me or discouraged me from continuing like I had wanted to.
I too, like Medic999, faced some opposition from my superiors. Now let me be clear about this, mine were for reasons far removed from his. Most of my opposition came from the fact that my writing style was personalized and in some sense unbridled, and some were quite unhappy with my airing our dirty laundry to the world. But true to form, I'll maintain consistency in telling it like it is, but with a little more tact and grace. Soooo, where did we leave off....
I guess the biggest change is that as of a couple weeks ago, I became a fully growed Paramedic (wink, wink). Some goofball in Columbus, OH was either sleeping on the job or slap drunk and somehow pushed my National Registry stuff through and generated a certification card with my name on it! Why is that a slip you might ask? Well, I'm glad you asked.
You see, I work nights and for the past five months we've been working CRAZY overtime. I'm talking about 130hrs a month overtime on top of my regular shift. Anywho, I had worked on a Friday night and was scheduled to test in Roanoke, Va the next Saturday morning. Just as luck would have it, we got our butts handed to us on a silver platter. I think that night between three trucks we had like 16 calls, and several were inter-facilities. I didn't even so much as get to look at a pillow much less put my head on one. During the daytime before I came on-shift I had worked eight hours at the ER(Now theres a blog series that I can't wait to get into), and that preceded by another busy shift.
So here I am in Roanoke at the Pearson Vue testing site, tired as hell, eyes bloodshot and haven't even touched a book or note card in a month. One of the reasons I waited so long to test was because I just didn't have the time too....seriously. They run me through the usual security stuff to make sure I ain't gonna cheat my way through this thing and sit me in a nice comfy cubical. There in front of me is this computer, keyboard, mouse, dry erase pad.....and a pair of ear muff thingies.
I resist the urge to put these ear muffs on because I know what's gonna happen if I do. However, there are about ten other people in there and most of them must have been taking a test that required them to type out an essay paper or something. Man, those keyboards were justa rattling away and I had to give into temptation or go mad with all that pecking.
Ahhhh, silence. Pure silence like a winter day at dawn with a fresh coating of snow. The only sound I could hear was the S1 and S2 of my heart. Sure enough, just as fate would have it, I started to get sleepy about ten questions into this beast. Now I know they have cameras everywhere watching the testing room and I am overly conscious about them laughing at me because I'm falling asleep in there. But sure as I'm typing this right now I start to do just that...I fell asleep no less than four times while taking this test! I'd be reading a question and next thing I'd know I'd wake up with my head just about on the keyboard. Once i actually woke myself up because I snored. OMG I was so embarrassed. I'm not even gonna mention how I felt when I walked out of there knowing that I was tired as heck taking this test; but I actually fell asleep taking it! I knew beyond a doubt that I had just wasted $110 and two and a half hours driving time.
For the next day and a half I felt like crap...literly. Not that I know what crap feels like mind you, but I would imagine that crap has some what of a complex being at the end of the food chain an all. All I could think about was the fact that I had told several people that I was going to take it that day and every body was expecting to know the results when they posted on Monday.
Well, that Monday about 9:00am, I entered the web address for the National Registry website. With a knot in my gut the size of a butterball turkey I entered my log in information, refusing to allow myself to believe that it would say anything other than that I was still an Intermediate. But sure enough, there it was. Right beside the word "Level" was the title that I have studied so hard for, fought so hard to defend and wanted so badly to wear with pride...PARAMEDIC. It was a surreal moment to say the least, almost like I couldn't believe what I was seeing. In the back of my mind I was just absolutely sure that somebody had messed up and sometime later that day they would realize what had happened and return to fix the mistake. So I fought off the urge to check it again...and lost.
I'm willing to bet that I checked my certification status no less that ten times that day. And every time I would see that title under my name I would get just a little more giddy each time. By the time I went to bed that night it had just about sunk in; I actually slept through the National Registry Paramedic exam...and passed!
Well, that's all for now. I've got a lot more I want to get back up to speed on, and I will over the next few days or so, but one of the biggest projects I'm going to be undertaking is a complete overhaul of my website. I want a new look and make it more "professional" if you will.
Until next time....Medic Up!
Showing posts with label Paramedic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paramedic. Show all posts
09 October 2010
21 February 2010
What's in your wallet?
Years ago during a particularly tumultuous time in my life I decided that there were some things that I couldn’t do by myself. I was self employed at the time and business was good, but trying to run the business and working it at the same time was just wearing me down. Add on top of that the strains of raising a family while being away from home three or four nights a week and you see where this can lead to real quick.
With all the stress and strains of life weighing me down and my burdens many, I did what every red blooded American and convicted felon does…I sought God. Don’t groan yet, this is not a Sunday school lesson.
I didn’t necessarily have a churchy upbringing and it wasn’t a big part of my young adult life. However, I had had some exposure to the good Christian teachings as dictated by others that knew better how my life should be, so I wasn’t exactly clueless as to what was going on.
One Sunday morning I was sitting in church and for whatever reason, this one phase from the pulpit hit me and sank to the pits of my being… and stuck. Of course I didn’t know this at the time, but that seed had been planted and time would cultivate this seed to a tangible product.
“If you can, or will, find something that you are willing to do for free…that is your calling. But if you can find a way to get paid for what you are willing to do for free, you have found the keys to unlock for yourself a prosperous lifestyle.”
A prosperous lifestyle…hmmmm…sounds good. I could live with that.
Fast forward to present day reality if you will. I’ve realized what prosperity is not by now. Naturally when I first heard this I spent many hours and days thinking about what I could do that would lead me to the riches. Man, I needed to find something that I really loved doing and find a way to make me a lot of money doing it. That’s how I interpreted what I heard that morning. Now either I’m not doing something right in the riches department, or prosperity must be something else.
For those of you who find your sustainment in the delivery of emergency (or not so emergent) medical services you know what I mean when I say “You ain’t gonna get rich doing this”. I know it; you know it and it would appear that the establishment knows it as well. Yet we keep on doing this day in and day out. Some do it at two or three different places. Others do it as their chosen profession and still find time to do it for free. Still some just do it because they truly enjoy the experience for whatever reason and get nothing in return except for a small pile of personal satisfaction.
I have to say that there is nothing more satisfying that I can imagine myself doing at this point in my life. For all the flat tires in my system and red tape that I deal with along with the endless political posturing that we must endure, I truly love what I do.
There’s nothing more satisfying than knowing that you have intervened in someone’s life and truly made a difference somehow. Even all the rides that we provide across the U.S. on the biggest publically funded taxi service in the world are comical after the initial anger wears off.
I get paid every day in one way or another. Not by check of course, that comes too weakly (bi-weekly), but in greater things that are far more valuable.
Let’s not forget the stories told by the nursing home resident, needlessly on the way to the hospital for a little bump on the arm. I take some solace in knowing that I gave them a change of scenery for a few hours while being held a captive audience for their life story.
The difficult patients off their psych meds. They are convinced someone is riding on the tailboard following them, or the one who has cut themselves to shreds and wants to take me out with them. From them I will get patience and tolerance.
Even the drunk driver who kills another human being gets his/her due as well. They will allow me to realize that my job is to fix and sustain the human body; that’s why I’m not a police officer or a judge. He gives perspective.
The patient who waits until I get to their house before they decide to code. They give me the drive to stay on my game, to tirelessly train and study, they think that I can fix what’s wrong if they can just hold out until I get there. These guys give me confidence.
Who can forget the lady who is waiting at the curb with her suitcase as you pull up in an ALS rig that is the last available for the next thirty minutes or so? It’s a cold night and her power has been turned off because she has no money, she has nowhere to turn and seeks refuge from the cold night air in my bus. She’s also knows that when she gets to the hospital there will be a small portion of food available for her during a four to five hour work up that will be nothing short of a full physical. She pays out with compassion and understanding.
How about the guy that the cops have just fed a concrete and grass sandwich to because he beat his wife and kids and tried to resist an arrest. He makes me love my job too. It is because of this guy that I will never go to jail for loosing my temper and killing someone. If I can spend twenty minutes alone with him in a closed environment, knowing what he has just done, I can control my emotions and anger through anything. He gave me self control.
For the infant who met the enemy SID, the one whose body I will have to do unimaginable things to just so the parents will know that they tried…that I tried. This little one will give me a deeper appreciation for life and learn to protect the fragile memories with my undivided attention.
Finally there is the frail old man who is in the process of taking his last breaths. He has run his race and fought the good fight. He wears his memories in the wrinkles on his face and his body is so tired. There is nothing I can do now because he has already purchased his final ticket. It is gold and has a big stop sign embossed on it that tells me to let him go out like a champ. It tells me that he is in control of these final moments. We lock eyes and he breathes one final time; he is now just someone’s memory of happier times. He gives me respect and dignity.
Yes, there are times when I almost loose it with the way things play out on the job. I do not like the way things have to be done. There are too many injustices that we must overlook out of professionalism and decorum; but this is our job…this is what we do.
Until the dawning of a new day when society figures out how to deal with all its’ problems, we will continue to be the dumping ground. Because of this we will be the doctor, the nurse, mental health counselor, moderator, baby-sitter, guard, taxi driver, locksmith, doorman and the list goes on forever.
I will probably never get to buy a custom built yacht as a Paramedic, or even a used one for that matter. My cars won’t be fancy and my family won’t take lavish vacations to Europe. We’ll only have one house to live in and it will not be on the lake front. I’ll have to punch a time clock to verify my presence for the foreseeable future to generate a steady flow of funds to my bank account. But for all that I do not and will not have, this much I know; I am rich with the things that matter most.
The moral of the story?
Prosperity is not so much about what you can see; yes it helps to see it, but it’s about what you do with what you can’t see.
I’ll bring home a check that is redeemable for a small amount of cash… but the experience is priceless.
With all the stress and strains of life weighing me down and my burdens many, I did what every red blooded American and convicted felon does…I sought God. Don’t groan yet, this is not a Sunday school lesson.
I didn’t necessarily have a churchy upbringing and it wasn’t a big part of my young adult life. However, I had had some exposure to the good Christian teachings as dictated by others that knew better how my life should be, so I wasn’t exactly clueless as to what was going on.
One Sunday morning I was sitting in church and for whatever reason, this one phase from the pulpit hit me and sank to the pits of my being… and stuck. Of course I didn’t know this at the time, but that seed had been planted and time would cultivate this seed to a tangible product.
“If you can, or will, find something that you are willing to do for free…that is your calling. But if you can find a way to get paid for what you are willing to do for free, you have found the keys to unlock for yourself a prosperous lifestyle.”
A prosperous lifestyle…hmmmm…sounds good. I could live with that.
Fast forward to present day reality if you will. I’ve realized what prosperity is not by now. Naturally when I first heard this I spent many hours and days thinking about what I could do that would lead me to the riches. Man, I needed to find something that I really loved doing and find a way to make me a lot of money doing it. That’s how I interpreted what I heard that morning. Now either I’m not doing something right in the riches department, or prosperity must be something else.
For those of you who find your sustainment in the delivery of emergency (or not so emergent) medical services you know what I mean when I say “You ain’t gonna get rich doing this”. I know it; you know it and it would appear that the establishment knows it as well. Yet we keep on doing this day in and day out. Some do it at two or three different places. Others do it as their chosen profession and still find time to do it for free. Still some just do it because they truly enjoy the experience for whatever reason and get nothing in return except for a small pile of personal satisfaction.
I have to say that there is nothing more satisfying that I can imagine myself doing at this point in my life. For all the flat tires in my system and red tape that I deal with along with the endless political posturing that we must endure, I truly love what I do.
There’s nothing more satisfying than knowing that you have intervened in someone’s life and truly made a difference somehow. Even all the rides that we provide across the U.S. on the biggest publically funded taxi service in the world are comical after the initial anger wears off.
I get paid every day in one way or another. Not by check of course, that comes too weakly (bi-weekly), but in greater things that are far more valuable.
Let’s not forget the stories told by the nursing home resident, needlessly on the way to the hospital for a little bump on the arm. I take some solace in knowing that I gave them a change of scenery for a few hours while being held a captive audience for their life story.
The difficult patients off their psych meds. They are convinced someone is riding on the tailboard following them, or the one who has cut themselves to shreds and wants to take me out with them. From them I will get patience and tolerance.
Even the drunk driver who kills another human being gets his/her due as well. They will allow me to realize that my job is to fix and sustain the human body; that’s why I’m not a police officer or a judge. He gives perspective.
The patient who waits until I get to their house before they decide to code. They give me the drive to stay on my game, to tirelessly train and study, they think that I can fix what’s wrong if they can just hold out until I get there. These guys give me confidence.
Who can forget the lady who is waiting at the curb with her suitcase as you pull up in an ALS rig that is the last available for the next thirty minutes or so? It’s a cold night and her power has been turned off because she has no money, she has nowhere to turn and seeks refuge from the cold night air in my bus. She’s also knows that when she gets to the hospital there will be a small portion of food available for her during a four to five hour work up that will be nothing short of a full physical. She pays out with compassion and understanding.
How about the guy that the cops have just fed a concrete and grass sandwich to because he beat his wife and kids and tried to resist an arrest. He makes me love my job too. It is because of this guy that I will never go to jail for loosing my temper and killing someone. If I can spend twenty minutes alone with him in a closed environment, knowing what he has just done, I can control my emotions and anger through anything. He gave me self control.
For the infant who met the enemy SID, the one whose body I will have to do unimaginable things to just so the parents will know that they tried…that I tried. This little one will give me a deeper appreciation for life and learn to protect the fragile memories with my undivided attention.
Finally there is the frail old man who is in the process of taking his last breaths. He has run his race and fought the good fight. He wears his memories in the wrinkles on his face and his body is so tired. There is nothing I can do now because he has already purchased his final ticket. It is gold and has a big stop sign embossed on it that tells me to let him go out like a champ. It tells me that he is in control of these final moments. We lock eyes and he breathes one final time; he is now just someone’s memory of happier times. He gives me respect and dignity.
Yes, there are times when I almost loose it with the way things play out on the job. I do not like the way things have to be done. There are too many injustices that we must overlook out of professionalism and decorum; but this is our job…this is what we do.
Until the dawning of a new day when society figures out how to deal with all its’ problems, we will continue to be the dumping ground. Because of this we will be the doctor, the nurse, mental health counselor, moderator, baby-sitter, guard, taxi driver, locksmith, doorman and the list goes on forever.
I will probably never get to buy a custom built yacht as a Paramedic, or even a used one for that matter. My cars won’t be fancy and my family won’t take lavish vacations to Europe. We’ll only have one house to live in and it will not be on the lake front. I’ll have to punch a time clock to verify my presence for the foreseeable future to generate a steady flow of funds to my bank account. But for all that I do not and will not have, this much I know; I am rich with the things that matter most.
The moral of the story?
Prosperity is not so much about what you can see; yes it helps to see it, but it’s about what you do with what you can’t see.
I’ll bring home a check that is redeemable for a small amount of cash… but the experience is priceless.
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