Finally got a job as a paramedic! I'm super excited, and completely terrified.
Every night for the last week, I've had "the first call" dream. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes it doesn't, but always, Matt is there to save my ass. I'm so used to having a preceptor there to save me!
I'm scared of screwing up, making a mistake, or getting a bad reputation. At the same time, I'm excited and can't wait to get out there. If I don't stroke out first, that is.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Two Different Worlds
Today after our church potluck, we started to clean up the room, as per usual. I started to stack chairs when I realized I was getting some strange looks from the older men who were also stacking. Looking around, I was the only woman doing this relatively physical chore, while the other woman were in the kitchen cleaning the dishes. I remarked to my pastor that it felt odd to get the feeling that I wasn't supposed to be doing the physical work, when I do so much worse at work. He chuckled and agreed, but basically shrugged it off, as it is an older church and it is not an uncommon attitude.
Sometimes it can be difficult to mesh the two worlds I seem to live in. I work in a very challenging field, doing challenging work in challenging circumstances. Then when I go to church, I am a sweet church-going woman who is expected to let the men lift the chairs while I do the dishes. It's hard to do that sometimes, as I know that in an emergency, not only would I manage the entire situation, I could also lift any one of those guys who was looking at me strangely.
I may eventually be able to combine both, the kick-ass paramedic and the sweet church woman who bakes the potluck favourites, but I don't seem to be able to right now. They just seem like polar opposites, and the people on each side certainly don't understand what the other side is like.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Reading Material
Since I haven't been working a lot lately, I've been reading everything I can get my hands on. A little bit of an addiction, really. My favourite books are ones written by medical professionals, all across the spectrum of medicine. I am running out of bookshelves, however!
The first one of this genre that I read was Peter Canning's first book, Paramedic, about 10 years ago. It made me want to be a paramedic more than anything, I read it cover to cover multiple times, ending up with large portions memorized. His book taught me about the medications and equipment that we use, enough so that I was able to intelligently answer questions in my first few classes. It's always a classic I pull out when I want to read something familiar.
Kelly Grayson's book, Life, death, and everything in between had me, quite literally, rolling on the ground laughing. I read it right after I finished university exams one year, in a public park under a gigantic lilac tree. I got some weird looks from pedestrians when I burst out laughing, but man, I loved that book. It showed me the ridiculous side of EMS, peppered with a lot of heart and emotion. I re-read this book (and/or the re-print En Route) when I have start taking myself too seriously and need to laugh.
Books by doctors are always ones I turn to when I want to be inspired. I love their drive for knowledge and excellence, and they remind me that I can always learn more. Ben Carson's book Gifted Hands never fails to inspire me, and remind me what faith in God can accomplish. I recently finished Blue Collar, Blue Scrubs, a book written by Michael Collins, a surgeon who worked as a construction worker for several years. Books like those make me think that going to medical school someday would not be that much of a stretch.
The first one of this genre that I read was Peter Canning's first book, Paramedic, about 10 years ago. It made me want to be a paramedic more than anything, I read it cover to cover multiple times, ending up with large portions memorized. His book taught me about the medications and equipment that we use, enough so that I was able to intelligently answer questions in my first few classes. It's always a classic I pull out when I want to read something familiar.
Kelly Grayson's book, Life, death, and everything in between had me, quite literally, rolling on the ground laughing. I read it right after I finished university exams one year, in a public park under a gigantic lilac tree. I got some weird looks from pedestrians when I burst out laughing, but man, I loved that book. It showed me the ridiculous side of EMS, peppered with a lot of heart and emotion. I re-read this book (and/or the re-print En Route) when I have start taking myself too seriously and need to laugh.
Books by doctors are always ones I turn to when I want to be inspired. I love their drive for knowledge and excellence, and they remind me that I can always learn more. Ben Carson's book Gifted Hands never fails to inspire me, and remind me what faith in God can accomplish. I recently finished Blue Collar, Blue Scrubs, a book written by Michael Collins, a surgeon who worked as a construction worker for several years. Books like those make me think that going to medical school someday would not be that much of a stretch.
Monday, December 5, 2011
My Preceptor
My preceptor this past year (let's call him Matt) was an incredible guy, exactly the type of preceptor I wanted and needed. He's an inspiring guy, not even thirty, and is already a critical care paramedic. His intelligence and drive for knowledge and further education made me even more passionate about this field, and made me want to learn more, train harder and be a better paramedic.
The most striking thing I learned from him, however, was nothing clinical, nothing that the textbooks discuss. He called them 'soft skills', and I have come to see that they are just as important, and in many cases, even more important than the clinical interventions we got drilled through in school. I never saw him get angry or lose his patience with a patient, family member or co-worker. A gentlemen to the core with little old ladies, a soothing touch to injured children and a listening ear to those suffering from addiction problems. As kind hearted as he always was though, he never, ever sacrificed our safety or stood down from a confrontation. I hope that I can show the same gentle strength that he does on a daily basis.
I remember one incident where we got called to a car accident on the highway on a cold, snowy evening. Arriving on scene, we found a woman and her child in their small car that had been struck by an out-of-control vehicle and spun into the retaining wall. The baby was perfectly fine, safe and secure in his care seat, while his Mom had a broken ankle. She didn't want the stretcher, and with our help, hopped gingerly over to our ambulance. When we arrived at the hospital, our partner, being a new dad, eagerly took the baby, while Matt and I helped her down the side stairs to the wheelchair we had grabbed for her. She was in more pain now, and hopping was clearly more painful. Instead of making her hop down, Matt reached up and lifted her down, placing her gently in the wheelchair. The look of relief and gratitude on the woman's face spoke volumes, a simple action, but one that drastically reduced her pain. Once inside, he willingly handed over his cell phone so she could call her husband in the U.S., she could not thank him enough.
Very simple actions, but ones that made me realize that he is the sort of paramedic that I want to be. The woman was not a critical patient by any means, and we really didn't do any "paramedic" skills for her, what he did was alleviate her pain and provide reassurance to her family. It made a world of difference for her, and really hammered home how important compassion and empathy are as a paramedic.
The most striking thing I learned from him, however, was nothing clinical, nothing that the textbooks discuss. He called them 'soft skills', and I have come to see that they are just as important, and in many cases, even more important than the clinical interventions we got drilled through in school. I never saw him get angry or lose his patience with a patient, family member or co-worker. A gentlemen to the core with little old ladies, a soothing touch to injured children and a listening ear to those suffering from addiction problems. As kind hearted as he always was though, he never, ever sacrificed our safety or stood down from a confrontation. I hope that I can show the same gentle strength that he does on a daily basis.
I remember one incident where we got called to a car accident on the highway on a cold, snowy evening. Arriving on scene, we found a woman and her child in their small car that had been struck by an out-of-control vehicle and spun into the retaining wall. The baby was perfectly fine, safe and secure in his care seat, while his Mom had a broken ankle. She didn't want the stretcher, and with our help, hopped gingerly over to our ambulance. When we arrived at the hospital, our partner, being a new dad, eagerly took the baby, while Matt and I helped her down the side stairs to the wheelchair we had grabbed for her. She was in more pain now, and hopping was clearly more painful. Instead of making her hop down, Matt reached up and lifted her down, placing her gently in the wheelchair. The look of relief and gratitude on the woman's face spoke volumes, a simple action, but one that drastically reduced her pain. Once inside, he willingly handed over his cell phone so she could call her husband in the U.S., she could not thank him enough.
Very simple actions, but ones that made me realize that he is the sort of paramedic that I want to be. The woman was not a critical patient by any means, and we really didn't do any "paramedic" skills for her, what he did was alleviate her pain and provide reassurance to her family. It made a world of difference for her, and really hammered home how important compassion and empathy are as a paramedic.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Life Update
I finished paramedic school last spring, and as I had not applied for jobs last year (for personal reasons), I'm still not working as a medic. As much as I am disappointed about the delay, I did have valid reasons for the decision. In the meantime, I'm teaching first aid courses and staring longingly at every ambulance that passes by my window. Hirings are beginning to start again though, and I am applying for everything right now. Fingers crossed!
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Two years
Two years ago when we started this program, our professors told us that by the time we finished, we would be different people. We would speak differently, act differently and view the world differently. Change is inevitable after learning all we have and seeing all we have.
In the last two years, I have made some amazing friends, as well as realized that it's okay not to like everyone. I have seen beautiful babies born to ecstatic parents, and walked into a heart-rending scene where a father decided he and his infant son should no longer live. I have held my father's hand as he passed away, my fingers on his weakening pulse as my family cried around us. I have comforted those who have experienced the same, while holding back my own tears at the memory. I have married a wonderful man and adopted an adorable, if not crazy, black lab.
In two years, almost everything in my life has indeed changed. I am a changed person, I do indeed speak, act and think differently. I am incredibly glad to be done so I can start my career, start making money again, and break free of school. I will miss the people though, I love my classmates, my teachers and my preceptor. Wonderful, wonderful people who have walked with me through the last two years, it will be sad when we have to say goodbye.
In the last two years, I have made some amazing friends, as well as realized that it's okay not to like everyone. I have seen beautiful babies born to ecstatic parents, and walked into a heart-rending scene where a father decided he and his infant son should no longer live. I have held my father's hand as he passed away, my fingers on his weakening pulse as my family cried around us. I have comforted those who have experienced the same, while holding back my own tears at the memory. I have married a wonderful man and adopted an adorable, if not crazy, black lab.
In two years, almost everything in my life has indeed changed. I am a changed person, I do indeed speak, act and think differently. I am incredibly glad to be done so I can start my career, start making money again, and break free of school. I will miss the people though, I love my classmates, my teachers and my preceptor. Wonderful, wonderful people who have walked with me through the last two years, it will be sad when we have to say goodbye.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Life goes on, one way or another.
The semester is almost over, and I am immensely grateful for that. The last few months have been incredibly hard and I will be glad for a rest.
I found my clinical shifts to be the hardest part. Week after week, I was placed in situations that reminded me of the weeks I spent with Dad in the hospital, watching him fade. I almost left my ICU shift shortly after I walked in, I simply wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotions that washed over me. I was close to tears, and it was sheer stubbornness that carried me through. After every shift I would spend the evening in tears, then fall into a restless, nightmare filled sleep. Getting up in the morning was nearly impossible.
The week after I returned to class, we began a lecture on multi system organ failure. For the next 4 hours, I sat in turbulent silence as my professor described, in minute, physiological detail, how and why Dad eventually died. Although a few tears escaped, I would not leave the classroom. I was too stubborn to admit that it was affecting me so badly, and too proud to ask for any allowances. I regret that now. I should have let myself go home to grieve in peace.
The semester will be over soon, I will have passed everything. My background in life sciences and as a first responder has allowed me to move through the term on autopilot, which I am eternally thankful for. Next year, I will be back to my normal self, and will not only pass everything, but once more, excel in everything. Dad would have been proud.
I found my clinical shifts to be the hardest part. Week after week, I was placed in situations that reminded me of the weeks I spent with Dad in the hospital, watching him fade. I almost left my ICU shift shortly after I walked in, I simply wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotions that washed over me. I was close to tears, and it was sheer stubbornness that carried me through. After every shift I would spend the evening in tears, then fall into a restless, nightmare filled sleep. Getting up in the morning was nearly impossible.
The week after I returned to class, we began a lecture on multi system organ failure. For the next 4 hours, I sat in turbulent silence as my professor described, in minute, physiological detail, how and why Dad eventually died. Although a few tears escaped, I would not leave the classroom. I was too stubborn to admit that it was affecting me so badly, and too proud to ask for any allowances. I regret that now. I should have let myself go home to grieve in peace.
The semester will be over soon, I will have passed everything. My background in life sciences and as a first responder has allowed me to move through the term on autopilot, which I am eternally thankful for. Next year, I will be back to my normal self, and will not only pass everything, but once more, excel in everything. Dad would have been proud.
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