Officer Bubba and Creative Non-Fiction

"Stop, stop, stop!" The teacher said placing a hand in the air and looking at me coldly. I stopped reading aloud and looked up from my paper, confused as to why I was asked to stop.

"What is it?" I asked, setting my paper down.

"Your writing is way too morbid." She said. I stopped and tilted my head, trying to figure out what she was talking about, I had written about a bike crash, no blood, just a shoulder dislocation, and how sad it was. The essay hadn't even gotten to the dislocation yet, so far it was all technical BMX writing.

"How so?" I asked, trying to figure out what she meant.

"Next essay please." She called out.

I think I'll be in trouble, my 'This I Believe' Essay was on 'How bilateral 14g IV's in the antecubital will solve ANY fake emergency from the homeless shelter.' That one, is admittedly more gory, as well as harsh!










In other news, we had the Officer start school this week! He was VERY excited to get his uniforms, some of his equipment as well as his ungodly heavy textbooks. So far he is loving it, but I'll ask that one again in a few weeks!

Some Things Just Don't Make Sense

Like why Discovery Health plays baby TV all day, and Trauma shows all night. At one point it said it was to cater to the appropriate people, but don't most cool Traumas happen at night? So then you would play it all day!

Or like why random shots of pain just appear and disappear; thoracic, pelvis, lumbar region, neck, ribs and shoulders. Not so random, but when they show up in odd places for hours at a time they obtain that claim.

Death- Part of the Job

A tale from Awhile Back....
___________________

The room was quiet and still as I wandered in and out, frankly it was depressing. Silence hung on the air and you could cut the tension with a knife. My footsteps echoed into the room as I walked in and out, waiting to watch for that breath of air, knowing that each breath could be her last.

I talked to her, telling her that I was going to reposition her, that we were going to do different cares for her. The other aides called me crazy. The nurse told me I didn't have to do it. Even the doctors rolled their eyes at me. I didn't care, she was a human, a person, and she deserved to know, whether unresponsive to us or not. Hearing is the last sense to go, and I was set on making sure she was taken good care of.

"What are you scared of?" One of the male aides asked me as we washed up. "Why do you keep talking to her? It doesn't matter."

"She is human dude." Was all the response I could muster. "We owe that much to her."

The night ended on a sad note, as I gave report and wanted to go into her room with the new aide, who looked so scared when I told her the diagnosis and prognosis for this patient. I strongly felt that it would be a good idea to show her who it is and what it is we are working with. She was warm and looked like she had all night, but gone.

"So, I have to do the cares?" She asked. I nodded and offered to help. She shook her head. "No. You are tired, you have been here for over 8 hours caring for her, you need to sleep because I know you and you will be up all night." I smiled softly and embraced the aide. "Just let me know how I do post-mortem care."

Just then one of the Nurses I don't completely like or trust approached us. The aide turned to her and asked her for her help doing post-mortem care. She nodded, agreed and then told us to wait for the doctors, the call, and for the HUC to begin to find the call lists and wishes from patient and family. She touched my arm. "You did good." She said, "Now please, go home." I tried to argue but she stopped me and frankly, I was too scared of her to keep arguing. As I walked away to clock out I overheard her talking to the other aide.

"This is part of the job Hun. The first time is always the worst, but it will get better, and so will your skills. If you believe in a religion or are spiritual, stick to it, because in this job we need as much of both as we can get."

Operation.

It hasn't hit me yet. I wonder when it will hit me, or if it will until I finally decide to go with it. The entirety of it all still makes me believe that it was a dream. I am known to have vivid, colored dreams jam-packed with drama and bad news. Maybe it was just a bad dream.

The surgeon I visited for my shoulder surgery came by today and spoke with me and the nurse for a few moments. Knowing he was still here I was waiting for his patient and dismissed the thought of him being the one I needed to meet with to discuss my surgery further. As I got the supplies for a new admit ready I thought back to one of the many reasons I don't want to do the surgery yet.

___
It was six in the morning, time for residents to come by and review patient information and situation. After letting them do their rounds with their assigned patients I approached one. "You are Dr.Shoulder's resident right?" I asked.

"Yeah, what do you want?" He asked harshly, never looking up from his paperwork.

"I was wondering if you knew where I could find a shoulder stabilization brace. Preferably one made out of neoprene. Does that have to be written as a prescription or-"

"What the hell makes you think you need one of those?" He asked harshly looking up to me. "You don't need one." He said and returned to his paperwork. Angry I stepped towards him and put my hand on his chart. My pulse raced, my adrenaline began flowing through my veins and my mind was geared on one thing.

"Dr.Shoulder told me I need a shoulder stabilization procedure. I cannot have this surgery done. I need a frickin' brace so that when I get your patient out of bed I wont injure them or myself further. You gonna help me or you gonna be an ass?" I snarled, feeling my orneriness taking over. He slammed the chart shut and walked off. He decided he was going to be an ass .
____

As I heard the voices of Nurse California and Dr. Shoulder I stopped and smiled, saying a quiet hello.

"Yeah, Nurse Cali, I agree, she needs it done soon so that she can be more beneficial as an aide, but it will also improve quality of life." He said, almost an exact quote from what he had told me when I sat in his office. They both looked to me as they leaned against the Nurses station.

"You need that shoulder surgery." She said, giving me a knowing look. I smiled and felt guilty for not even trying to pursue it yet. "We are gonna help you figure out a time when you can do it."

As I looked at the calendar and tried to plan out dates and times and how exactly to make this happen I kept letting my mind wander. It is something I have learned to live with. It is something that is a part of my life now, and I have adapted to it. Not even the MRI and the Xrays have let me know that it is real, and at this point I am positive I won't be feeling reality until I am in a gown going under TIVA.

Sometimes being young and naive isn't as awesome as we all believe it to be. This is one of those cases I wish I was more grown up and could handle this like one.

How can I make it more real? And how can I convince myself that I need to do this, and soon, before I shred it up even more?

A Personal Favorite

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tLqMFsoqe1I

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbSC83Y27Y4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nM5zi_tnzfU
These are clips from my favorite movie, Elizabethtown. I loved this collection by the other fans.

Reminder

This semester I am taking a 'Creative Non-Fiction' course to hone in on my writing skills while going to Paramedic school is on hold. The class is very interesting. My classmates are all English majors, almost all of whom had no idea that schooling was needed to be a 'Paramedic.' When I told them that was my major at my transfer college I laughed as jaws dropped and a kid called me out on it.

"I wasn't born yesterday, 'Paramedic' isn't a major." He said. I laughed and logged onto a computer and pulled up several colleges that offer it. Quietly, he sat back down and avoided eye contact with me as I held a proud smirk on my face.

My teacher then went over the syllabus, over the instructions and over the most important detail. "You cannot fictionalize anything!" She said loudly to the class. No one said anything and the gears began to churn in my mind. My hand shot up.

"What about HIPPA?" I asked. Another kid tried to convince me that HIPPA didn't apply when your writing about it, because by the time you write about it, its over. She also tried to convince me that HIPPA doesn't apply to EMT's or Paramedics, and that I had nothing to worry about. It is too early to decide, but I think I am going to fail this class because of HIPPA laws.

I posted this because I wanted to remind my readers that while I am an EMT, I am a CNA, I do have laws that say I cannot post the true stories, so while some of this is made up, there is also some that isn't. As the notice in the sidebar states, names, dates, locations, and even diagnoses' are changed to protect the patient. Remember, we are patient advocates and our paying job is to help the patient. Our hobby is this, and we have to remember where the line is drawn.

Burning out

We burn out quickly in medicine. We work out asses off and for what? Crappy pay, long hours and feeling emotionally raped at the end of the day. Bad eating habits, weird sleep schedules and health problems, and we are expected to stay happy.

Lately the thrill of the job isn't there anymore. The medicine doesn't excite me like it once did. Maybe I am in a short temporary rut, or maybe I am burning out. I hope I am not.

I sat down with a good friend for lunch today, an EMT-I who has been one of my best friends for years. As we sat down we started with the gruesome battle tales, the long nights in the ER, our own injuries and illnesses, and jokes about the 'swine flu' cases we have seen. As the conversation continued there was an awkward silence as he played with his drink, then quietly admitted that it wasn't as fun for him anymore. I watched him as he tried to describe what he is going through, but the right words didn't seem to come.

"Hell Dani, I dunno anymore."

"How the hell can't you not know anymore?" I asked in return.

"Its just not fun anymore." He said, flipping his cup around. I stared out the window, trying to think of anything inspirational to say. He said nothing and we sat in silence, both lost in our own thoughts. Finally something came to me.

"You cannot be burned out. You are twenty-frikin-one years old. You cannot be burned out yet. I won't let you be. You need to get your ass inspired again- get back in the frickin saddle and remember why you love medicine." I said, louder than I would have liked to.

"I just need a trau-" He started.

"Bull-shit!" I replied before he could finish. "You never had traumas to excite you back then." I said to him. "You find what that is and get back in that groove. You're too young to burn out, and too damn good of an EMT to get out of the game already."

We changed the subject and left our lunch on good terms, exchanging hugs and stupid EMT quotes and jokes. Before we got back in our vehicles he smiled at me, and thanked me. As I nodded and began to leave he started again. "Dani, that may have been what I needed to get back in the saddle. Thank you."

We don't always get to save lives, but it makes the same amount of difference if we change them. I'm glad we try to do both.