My Personal Anthem (2009)

Its New Years Eve.
I'm not going to make any resolutions, I'm not going to make any promises for myself because this year is the year that is going to change my life. I'm going back to work in February with a healed shoulder and a rested body- something I haven't been able to work with in a medical career EVER. I'm getting married this spring- to the love of my life and an incredible man. We're going to be getting our own place, and having all the adventures in between. I'll be eligible to go to Paramedic school in the fall- and I am able to work as an EMT come April. This year will be the year that changes everything- but I needed a bridge to get to that year- and that was 2009.

I learned alot this year- I learned things that will forever help me be a better person.

I learned to love. After feeling immense heartbreak, disaster, and emptiness this year has taught me how to love, and how to feel loved in return. I learned that its okay to get a kiss in public and that getting smacked on the ass isn't always a sexual thing. I learned how to fall asleep in someones arms, and how to laugh until I cry.

I learned how to feel peace when there isn't any. When a patient is dying in front of your eyes, when your family is falling apart, when your life is hanging by a thread- I learned how to discover peace of mind.

I learned how to let my guard down- to be okay with my emotions, to embrace the fact that I am like everyone else, I am human- and that I am not alone with my feelings. I learned how to laugh until it hurt, and how to cry on someones shoulder. I discovered that I could actually write about my feelings, and that I wasn't going to hell because of it.

I learned that the best people to listen to and seek advice from are the people who know you well enough yet are far enough away from your life. I came to realize that Nurse P was right about all the friend dramas after all- Bubba and I did meet new friends through police and EMS, there is no drama and we are completely happy. Nurse J was right as well- its not happily ever after, it is happily right now.

I learned that it doesn't matter what your told to believe- its what you learn from life's lessons to believe. You don't have to be perfect- you don't need to even embrace everything everyone else wants you to - you need to learn for yourself and come to your own terms.

I learned that despite everyones attempts to bring me down- and that despite all the shit that has happened to me that I am okay after all. I'm not perfect by any means, but I am Dani. I am a CNA, an EMT. I deal with life- whether I'm dealing with it or saving it. I like dancing in my underwear, and singing in the shower. I drink too much caffeine and can't keep my meals in order. I'm bad at computers and can't cut correctly with scissors.

But that's all okay. Because I've learned better.
And I can live with that being my accomplishment for 2009.

Road Trip

The moon hung in the sky, as if it was placed there by god. I followed it with my eyes as we drove, my face pressed against the back seat, simply watching the world as we passed it by. Buildings were lit by only exit signs and their parking lots were iced over. It felt as if we were the only ones left awake in this sleepy town- but this adventure was just beginning.

The further we got out of town the less we saw. Before too long we were only passing refineries every few miles and then suddenly there was nothing. My thoughts drifted away and finally it was just me, the road and the night.

Before too long the radio quit and we sat quietly, every so often mentioning stories from our jobs, from our lives. My friend Steve took the front seat, every so often mentioning a flight call he took from his time in Iraq. Bubba would reply with a story from the Police Academy. Finally, I would share my story- and silence would follow. The road continued on from beneath the tires- and if was as if we were dropping those worries out as we shared them.

It was two hours that passed in no time. Before we knew it the lights from our destination sparkled into the night sky and gave us a glimpse of hope. A smile spread across my face and the boys cracked jokes again- it was like the city brought us back to life.

Unfortunately we missed our exit and fear hung over us again as we read the sign 'Next exit, 58 miles - No Services.' We were running out of energy, out of gas and out of patience. Luckily there was an exit two miles out and we were able to flip around.

"What city is this?" Bubba asked playfully. There was no city to be seen- just darkness all around us.

"It doesn't matter what city this is." Steve replied. "Its like frickin North Las Vegas- no one wants to go there!"

We finally got to our destination and to our purpose- food. Sitting down at a table I smiled and simply enjoyed the moment. We had actually made it this far and were actually having alot of fun. Stories were shared about random things, jokes were made, I ooohed and ahhhed at the neon. Bubba even had an experience about a dancing man at the urinals (this made me laugh my butt off for quite some time).

Finally the restaurant was closing down and we were asked to leave. The food was long gone and the complimentary bread they kept bringing was getting downed. Our drink glasses were empty, and we were exhausted.

As we stopped to fill up on gas the boys crawled out of the truck and both began to giggle. Confused I sat there- not wanting to get out to see why. As Steve returned to the truck while it pumped he informed me it was puke. After a few moments Bubba returned with drinks and told me that it was puke that had been ran over. I rolled my eyes.

Boys.

A few moments later Bubba replied with 'if you would've given me a few minutes I could've identified the tires by the tire tread. Steve agreed and felt the need to inform me that it was the 'good kind' of vomit. Does that even exist? In all my years of holding emesis basins and cleaning up messes I never knew this.

The conversations never stopped on the way back. Before too long all of our phones died and the radio still didn't find a station. I smiled- this was the way a road trip should be. We cracked open our energy drinks and began to pound them down. We even hit pretty decent fog- and Steve showed off his skills as he whispered to himself distances, he had the vehicles around us memorized and their distances. Bubba assisted him with speeds and our speeds- and we made it through the thick patches alive.

As we finally pulled into the driveway we shivered into the cold 3-degrees that decided to follow us home. I had to be practically carried into bed- and passed out immediately- with a smile on my face.

Its good times like that- where you have your friends and your piece of mind - that you will remember forever.

Goodies! Prizes! Fun!

I am excited to announce that on January 1st, 2010 Medic Dani's (also known as Dani's Anatomy) will be having its first ever contest!

Here is how to play:

Each day during the month of January send in an e-mail to emtdani@hotmail.com. Include your name and e-mail address that you check often. As each e-mail comes in I will place the information into a drawing jar- on the last day of the month I will set a time to draw the winner's name, and announce it! (If you don't want your name announced on twitter or blogger please include a alias to refer to you by.)
The prize is a one-of-a-kind EMS t-shirt!

Get ready to play guys- because on January first- its game on!

You Might Be Marrying a Medic If... (By Officer Bubba)

My name is Officer Bubba. I'm Medic Dani's fiancee. I'm today's guest author and the first one to be at that. This is the topic I choose and a very fitting topic- because from what I can see is that she isn't the only one that does these crazy, fun, kooky, entertaining things that are unique to being a medic or even some one in the medical profession. I hope you enjoy the read and get a great kick out of it and maybe even have some of your own you could share.
Thanks for taking the time and don't be afraid to make fun of her either.

Us men have it difficult enough to figure out women. I have it the worst- I have to figure out a female medic. Not only does she have the normal traits of a typical woman she also has the quirks of the medical professionals. Neither come with hints that are easy to pick up on.

Let me tell you of some of the things I have had to live with...

You might be marrying a medic if she cleans out her wallet and there are more alcohol prep pads than ones.

You might be marrying a medic if she has socks with skulls on them and still insists on mismatching them- even though no one ever sees them.

You might be marrying a medic if all Christmas presents from her were wrapped in IV tape.

You might be marrying a medic if 10cc saliene syringes, shaving cream and a bathtub is a baby sitting event.

You might be marrying a medic if the sternal rub is used as a wake-up call when a "good morning" would suffice.

You might be marrying a medic if she has more photos of ambulances, fire trucks and cop cars scattered around than of her family and friends.

You might be marrying a medic if a siren has gone off in your bedroom at two a.m.

You might be marrying a medic if you've ever watched her eat an orange with trauma shears.

You might be marrying a medic if you've ever gone on a date that ended up in finding fire stations.

You might be marrying a medic when you go on a date and by the end of the night your clothes have been cut off of you.

You might be marrying a medic if your date night includes a scene size up.

You might be marrying a medic if her diet consists of Hershey kisses and a taco shell.

You might be marrying a medic when every time you pass or see a ambulance or fire truck she gives them the rock and roll hand gesture.

You might be marrying a medic when your at wal-mart and you make a special trip over to the scrubs just to check them out.

You might be marrying a medic when she says lets see if we can get married in a fire house or on the back of a fire truck, and is serious.

You might be marrying a medic when your told your not going to be able to pick the colors of the room(red, blue, and white) but told that your going to paint it that way.

You're okay with marrying a medic because you know that you'll sleep safe at night, and never stop laughing at the antics.
I'm sure this post will come with a sequel directed at me, and I look forward to it.

Social Networking.

Hey everyone- I PROMISE a real blog post is coming- but until then I wanted to let everyone know about the social networking I am a part of!

Facebook as a fan page for Medic Dani- check it out and become a fan!

I am also on Twitter under username EMTDani, and I tweet alot. (Also I am one follower away from my 100th follower- will it be you?)

Wanna chat? You can IM me on emtdani@hotmail.com or on skype under username MedicDani.

Until then readers- BSI-

XOXO-D

Tear Stained Cheeks

The drive home was quiet. My phone had died and I couldn't call for help, even if I wanted to. There was no need for the radio- my thoughts said too much and I craved silence. I didn't bother emptying out my pockets before leaving work, and my equipment jammed into my leg. My badge was positioned funny and jammed itself into my breast. I didn't care about either of them.

My mind went to the long talks with my buddy Travis, about how stupid patients are. "If you are going to cut, go down the river, never across the street!" He would always exclaim, shaking his head and laughing. As I pulled my car up to a red light, I looked to my wrist and studied the sting from the wound by the glow of the street light.

I felt enlightened as suddenly I realized patients aren't stupid after all- they don't want to die-they are trying to cure the pain.
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Charlotte was the sweetest woman I have ever known. She had long grey hair and big blue eyes, and even at 94 she loved to whistle- or at least, try to. While I worked a long-term care facility I was always assigned to be her aide- and I was just fine with it. Her son came to visit her every night- he was a big, strong, teddy bear. Before too long we became friends, and I became family.

I quit the care center not long after I turned 18, but I still went to visit Charlotte often. One night after about two months I got a phone call from her son. He was crying. He asked why I hadn't been at his mothers funeral.

Words couldn't fix what had happened and tears formed in my eyes. I sniffed softly and we stayed on the phone with each other. We didn't say a thing, we just sat until the other hung up. I haven't seen nor heard from him since, but I think of him every day.
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I've had roughly 700 patients in my care alone this year. That does not count the patients that I shared with other aides or the ones that didn't require much care. Out of those people, 22 of them have lost their lives. In my opinion, that is far too many.

Susan died alone, her family nowhere to be found or contacted, at the age of 73.

Frank died while getting Dialysis. He told me he was going to die three minutes before he did. The doctors were too late and he couldn't be revived. He was 56 and top of the list for a transplant.

Johnathan died of Leukemia after two long years of treatment. He was 8.

Maya died of heart problems after staying in the hospital for 6 months. It was sudden and unexpected. She was 32 with two young children.

Do people seriously wonder why we struggle with depression? Why we crack twisted jokes? Our jobs are amazing, but don't kid yourself, it's the hardest job in the world to do.
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I wish I was lucky enough to say these last 20 years were easy on me. More than anything I wish I could admit how high school was a breeze full of only good times and that the cops were only involved when it was funny.

I wish I could say that things were always amazing and wonderful- that I'm not a 19-year-old divorcee, or a girl who had to re-invent herself three times just to keep her head above water. I wish that I was lucky enough to say that I made it through all that hell with a smile on my face.
But I've been beaten bloody over all of it.
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Hot tears stained my cheeks, goosebumps covered my body. I sat on the floor in an empty patient room, hiding. I stared at my wrist in shock, in disbelief. I couldn't believe I had done it, but there they were, two cuts. My mouth fell open and I stared helplessly at it; what had I just done? That wasn't me, I was the professional, not the patient. Scared, and shaking I placed a gauze pad to my wrist and dabbed away the blood.

As I sat there I felt it-the realization of it. Just moments before my world was crashing, my pain was out of control and I could hardly breathe. Nothing could help the pain and all I could think about was wanting real pain. Suddenly the emotional pain had disappeared and the physical pain was all I could feel. I sniffed softly and touched the cuts, suddenly I felt like I could make it. The physical pain was nothing in comparison.
Finally, I understood.
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Two days after the first incident and I still hadn't taken off my leather wristband. My cut was covered in neosporin and topped with gauze and a tegederm, then nicely hidden for the world to never see. After a long shift at the medical unit I collapsed into my car and sat there numbly. After thirty minutes of debating I turned on my car and called Travis.

It took everything I had to even tell him the truth- that I was calling for help, for advice. And once I said it, I regretted it. Surprisingly, he shocked me. "Let's talk about it." He said. "And lets start off with why you're calling me about it."

I waited for the typical 'cutting is a cry for help, or attention' line, but it never came. Instead comments like 'your not stupid, nor incapable, your human' came up. By the time I got home I felt better and a plan was in place. From that point forward I was no longer allowed to keep my feelings bottled in. I was to carry tissues everywhere and try to let my emotions out (where appropriate). I was to call either him or my fiancee and get it out there- to avoid that unbelievable emotional pain at all costs.

Two people were on my side. And for me, that was enough.
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By no means am I to say that my depression is cured.
It is on hiatus while I am here at home recovering. The cold weather, the snow, the trips up to work remind me of what may be waiting for me once I do return. It scares me shitless.

But I have to talk about it, I have to face the facts. I need to tackle this son of a bitch and figure out what causes it to think it can control me. And then I need to take control all over again. It's a long, hard, miserable battle that will drive me to insanity, if it hasn't already.

No one would've known if I hadn't told them how bad it was. Sure, my fiancee knows I have crappy shifts. He knows there are nights I come home and cry myself to sleep. There are days that breathing the next breath seems impossible by all odds, but I seemingly pulled through. If I wouldnt've said anything it would've been my secret, and all they would've seen was tear stained cheeks.

Pho-Pho-Pho-Photos!

On each photo (click to enlarge) I have a discription of what on earth your looking at. It's pretty gnarly stuff and I am so stoked to have figured out the scanner! Enjoy looking at my insides!