Kumbaya Everybody

[cosgrojo]

It seems that over the time I have been a consumer of this fine web-site, that there are many instances where we make judgments on people based on their posts. I have found my self doing it in the past, and after some critical thinking, I have determined it is because of natural prejudices that I have. We all have them, we all (rightly or wrongly) use them. I, for instance, tend to immediately discount posts that are incredibly hard to read and do not at least attempt to have some grammatical accuracy. Even though I know better than to equate bad posting grammar with intelligence... I still do it. I know that some on this site view me as the funny wordy guy that disappears for 8 months out of the year, while others see me as an arrogant rabble rouser who is more concerned with sounding “smart,” and less concerned with content. The truth is that I am neither of those things... this site, and my posts do not define me any more than they define the rest of you.

Some naturally stereotype each other based on education, race (yes crotchity. Racism still lives, but there is no need to turn this into one of those topics), religion, political leanings, country of origin, what EMS system you work in, who you work for (paid vs. volunteer)... and so on, and so on. What I would like to accomplish here is to try and bridge the gap between some of these prejudices. I contend that we often misrepresent each other and misinterpret things simply because we have no idea what type of person you are, and we make the mistake of using our posts on an EMS message board as a barometer to judge our intrinsic value as a person and provider.

To use some City veterans as examples, I've seen Dustdevil characterized as a cranky, BLS hating, Canadian disrespecting, arrogantly mean-spirited dude. He has come under attack multiple times for his stances on certain subjects (sometimes by me). I've read enough of his posts that I believe this characterization is incorrect. There is a sensitivity to many of his posts that we all usually miss. An understanding of fundamental quality on a human level, fiercely proud, loyal to those who he calls friends, and unerringly steadfast in what he believes in... education and enlightenment. Quality people equal quality providers.

DwayneEMTP is the guy that pokes you in the chest when he senses weakness (in mind or in argument). Challenges you in a brusque manner, and throws haymakers until it's over. What I think is sometimes missed about him is that, at heart, he is a pragmatist. Why walk in a circle if you could get there in a straight line? A man who is eminently capable of the subtler arts of vocabulary and diplomacy, but doesn't see the point. Anything worth knowing is worth fighting for. If you back down and are unable to defend your stance (or lack thereof) than you weren't worth the educational experience to begin with. He's not being it to be mean or hurt feelings (as I only recently came to realize after getting' all up in my grill), but to cut to the chase and provide a learning experience for us all. It's a harsh tactic to some, but one that makes sense if you look at it from their perspective.

Some even view VentMedic as a sanctimonious unicorn... (sorry, was too funny to leave out).

So what I request is... tell us a story. Tell us something that has happened to you that was important to your values, tell us about an event that shaped who you are, tell us something about your family that you are particularly proud of (or not proud of, if it is applicable), tell us something that will give us some insight into who you are. Give us some context, some reference point, some humanizing detail that allows us to more accurately view you as a person, and not some EMS robot. Not only can doing some internal assessment be something that will allow readers to understand you more, but I sometimes find it cathartic to unleash a little bit of your own experiences on others... makes you remember how you got where you are, and sometimes surprisingly tells you where you should go. These stories do not need to be about EMS, or your place in EMS, but it is okay by me if it is.

Those of you brave enough to participate... one simple ground rule. No replying to these posts. Allow them to stand alone. Any discussion should take place in PM if desired. Just tell us a story, and enjoy everyone else's. If you don't use proper grammar, then I will surely judge you.

[tniuqs]

Really don't mean to rain on your parade here, but is that not what Blogs are for?

Heated Debate is a great way to blow off steam.

Hey I like arguing with Dust, I am hoping that I am the reason he hates Canadians ROFLMAO!

As for Dwayne ... he best not poke me in the chest or I just may cry !

We are lucky to have VentMedic ... as I can identify with and idealist with values and edjumication.

Persona on the internet and real life are 2 entirely different critters, Blog your heart out ... I am just here for the intelligent controversy, and the vast majority of EMS are A type personalities they will not agree on anything .... even where to eat lunch.

BUT yet again I am out of the top 3 "personalities" sniff, as squint wipes the tears from his eyes.

[fireflymedic]

I'd hate to know what some think of me. I'm all up for a good challenge and to learn and actually like when someone forces me to expand on something or give references to it (though I certainly try to when possible). Though some have dismissed me probably as secretive and full of crap because I refuse to tell particular things at times or state if you want to know more, to PM me as opposed to having things in open forum out of respect for those that give me that nice thing that pays the bills called a paycheck. I also tend to be quite animated and say what I think and well, if you don't like it I'm sorry. I can appreciate DwayneEMTP for that - he's a straight shooter and I like it. Vent and Dust - feel free to challenge me all day long. It is people like you that make me want to learn more (so I can argue more intelligently ! ) To even a few of the mods that I initially thought to be grumpy, I've learned over time that they really aren't. You just have to be willing to listen and learn sometimes (thanks happy feet !) and I've grown to respect them. I can't say there are many on here that I would care to work with because as one is on here and what one is to work with may be two very different things, but I think in general all try to give the best care they can. I'm in agreement with us all trying to be respectful of each other whatever the location or level. The best to you and be safe to all.

[akflightmedic]

I like your topic and while I do agree with Squint, this is what blogs are for...your ground rules make it different. You simply asked for a personal event/story that is not to be commented on, a story which reveals another layer of the onion. You are asking a lot, personal revelation to many strangers...some may comply, I think the majority will not.

Regardless, I will share but like Squint said "No honorable mention for me, Sheesh"!!

My story had a tremendous impact on my life in various aspects, I will not discuss which ones or how they affect me then and today. For those of you who know me on a personal level, you will understand a lot. I have spoke of this before but never written it out for all to see, so here goes...

I was 17 years old and bulletproof, life was good. I had just graduated high school one month prior, was in love with my high school sweetie, and was preparing to move 9 hours away to go to college. I went to the base hospital (shot clinic) to get my allergy shots which I had been receiving for about 3 months at this point. It was lunchtime and the hospital was pretty much vacant.

Normally, I used to sneak out cause I hated waiting 15 minutes when I had such important things to do and people to see. I could not sneak out that day cause it was too obvious. I had on my favorite Earth Day t-shirt (with wolves on it), and my sleeveless hooded sweat shirt as an outer layer. I also had a little over $300 in my shorts pocket cause I was planning on leaving that week.

The young tech (Norm) gave me my dose and I sat down across from one other person in the waiting room. Norm was a very dark black man and this point will be relevant later. Norm walked out of the room and within a few seconds I thought I was going to die. I had an overwhelming sense of impending doom (yes it is real). My tongue started to itch, my skin was crawling, my entire body just felt weird. I then started to wheeze as well and was barely able to get my inhaler out of my pocket. I tried taking a dose but I dropped it. It was at this point that I made eye contact with the guy across from me and I saw nothing but FEAR in his eyes, he was staring at me with his mouth open and eyes wide.

I whispered...get help.

He ran out of the room and my mind was racing a million miles an hour. I hurt, I tingled, I itched, I could not breathe. I was bent over in my chair, head hurting, not breathing well and wondering over and over what the fuck is going on?

I stood up because I did not think anyone was coming and I knew I was in trouble. As I stood, Norm appeared in the doorway. He literally froze in his tracks. He was walking full speed (maybe running) to the clinic and when he hit the door threshold he froze and rocked forward from momentum but he could not follow. To this day, I remember his face clear as a bell. Because he was so black, all I saw was his eyes, they were massive...it was like in slow motion I watched how huge they got. He stared at me for what seemed an eternity (probably a second), then turn and ran to get the doctor.

The doctor appeared, placed an arm around my shoulders and said James try to walk to the stretcher (crash room was 6 feet away). He kept saying, hang in there James, we got you, we will help you...we will take care of you. I stumbled those few feet, sat on the edge of the bed and tried not to panic. For some reason, I focused on my watch. It was a metal band with a clasp type and while they were scurrying all around me, I just focused on removing my watch. I heard the doctor ask for the epi and then I heard him tell Norm to call a code on the over head.

My watch fell to the floor as I finally released it and I now thought this was the end. I knew I was no longer breathing and my head hurt. I heard someone walk in the room and ask if this was some kind of drill. Before the doc could answer, I heard "Oh shit"..."call the code overhead again"! At this point I heard lots of voices of people filling the room, my eyes were no longer focused, I do not think they were even open. I then pissed and shit myself as my body emptied my bowels. Then there was nothing but blackness...

**After coming off the vent two days later and recovering at home for a week or so, we had a party for the medical folks who saved my life, was a nice story in the paper about me. I did request a copy of the code summary and I still have it here, laminated...Seems I also went into pulseless Vtach but was fixed with a pre cordial thump. It also took 7 attempts to intubate me due to the massive breakfast I had that morning (frosted flakes, cold pizza, ton of milk). For weeks after that, my throat hurt and it was difficult to speak, especially about the event. For years, when I tried telling the story, I would have laryngospasms, voice would get weak and it would be difficult (PTSD anyone?). It took many years before I could candidly speak of that day, but now it is easy..as is everything with time.

[Miss Sasha]

To use some City veterans as examples, I've seen Dustdevil characterized as a cranky, BLS hating, Canadian disrespecting, arrogantly mean-spirited dude.

That is the persona he likes to portray, but he's really a big soft teddybear.

But, OP, you gotta roll with it. Don't let other people's adverse criticism of others bother you. The ones who do the criticizing are usually buttheads anyway who feel threatened by someone more intelligent or better spoken than they are or don't take criticism well. Not worth your anger.

Glad you are still around to tell that story ak. Must have been pretty scary.

[cosgrojo]

Cosgrojo's Story

In High School I used to play football. Before Freshman year started, football practice began. During the brutal heat of summer we were required to participate in Two-a-days. For those who are not crazy enough to have played football... "two-a-days" mean two full practices (in our case 3 hours each) a day, one in the morning and one in the afternoon.

Having never been involved in organized sports before, I was unaware of the difficulty that lie ahead of me. My sporting life prior to High School was intramural and pick-up games. The budgets for organized sports were cut completely in my elementary and middle schools. First day, first practice, about 3/4'ths of the Freshman recruits (including me) vomited multiple times due to the unusually brutal nature of our practices (The thought of up-hill bear crawls sends shivers through my spine even today). We would have about 4 hours off between practices to rest, recover, and have some lunch, and rehydrate. I would go home and spend most of that time laying in my bath-tub with cold water running over me trying not to puke.

My step-father was an asshole (I know, appears random... but I'll work it in). My step-father was quite fond of my older sister, and spent a lot of time with her and a lot of money on her. She is the classic all-American girl with good-looks, tremendous athletic talent, and exceedingly popular. She always got what she wanted. I don't resent her that, if I had those gifts, it would be hard not to use. I did, however, resent how she was favored. The two of them would come up with these odd things that they wanted to do, and once they realized they really didn't want to do it anymore, and it required more work than fun, they stopped. Often times this meant that I now had to finish what they started. My Mother around this time was going through some mental instability problems, and was not fully aware of the strange dynamic that appeared to be brewing in our household.

One day after practice number 1 was completed, I limped home, covered in bruises, feeling like I have been beaten with a baseball bat, barely able to bend down to untie my shoes, I was given a task. My step-father and my sister had apparently decided while I was at practice that they wanted to paint our porch. Now we were not rich, but had a big house. Real estate in the early nineties in rural Maine was very nice, big houses for no money. We had a gigantic porch. They had maybe gotten 4-5 feet (out of 20) of porch painted, when they decided that they would rather go water-skiing with some friends. I was told in no uncertain terms that this was now my responsibility.

It took me a week. If healthy and without any physical pain or defects, would have gotten first and second coat on within the first day... easy. I didn't eat lunch, I didn't shower between practice, and I didn't make a peep. If anyone cared to look I was obviously struggling to overcome the trauma my body was under, but no one looked. My best friend Dustin would come by and offer to help, but I would tell him no. I didn't complain or bitch or make a scene. I knew that if I brought this to my Mother's attention that it could end badly, she appeared to be very emotionally fragile at the time. I knew that my sister didn't care, she was having a blast, and I knew my step-father was an asshole and just didn't care.

When I finished, my friend Dustin was standing there with me admiring the job, and commented that I should be proud of what I did (mind you he is being very sarcastic, and paying me back for my persecution complex). He off-handedly commented while he was on a particularly good roll comparing my struggle with those of the holocaust, that I should sign it like Michaelangelo did all of his great works. I smiled and agreed. I went and found some bright neon green paint and slapped my initials in bold font "J.C." on the concrete slab in front of the porch. We lived right off of a major road in my bumpkin town, and the slab is literally less than ten feet from the road. I was pleased with my statement, and Dustin was scared enough to go home and make me promise I didn't say it was his idea (Dustin is a sweet guy, funny, sarcastic, bright... not much of a stand & fight guy).

I won't tell you what the fallout was, That's too personal.... but I don't regret it.

I don't get much opportunity to go back to my home town much, nobody I care about lives there anymore. Couple years ago when my Grand-mother was in the ICU (eventually died), happened to be driving around with no particular place to go, and found myself driving toward my old town. Much has changed, much has not. The current owners of the house have repainted the house, the barn and the porch. Remodeled the fenced in yard, and improved the lawn, and generally changed a lot. Almost didn't recognize it... until I saw the initials. Not sure if that is why I started crying right then, and am tearing up right now while typing, or something else entirely... Thanks for reading.

[fireflymedic]

Defining moment in my life in EMS - I wasn't going to share, but I'm posting perhaps against better judgement, but I will anyway. Those that know me will instantly be aware of the story because I share it with people freely in person, and is much like AK's (by the way AK - glad you're still here with us !) But it definitely defined who I was a caregiver and gave me new eyes for my patients. There are a few things I will leave out as they are quite personal and have no place here, but this is the thing in general.

Sept 11 is a day I'll never forget. It's the day I started my EMS career, the day the towers fell, and the day my life nearly came to an end. I had left that morning from my other job which was non ems related and was driving in a construction area which was very narrow as it had concrete barriers on both sides. I saw a semi coming the other way and didn't even think about it. The next thing I remember was waking up to a cop (who I've affectionately coined smokey the bear since then) and seeing how white his face was. He wasn't moving very fast and I realized I had just been involved in a wreck. My first thoughts were to see if I was stuck - I tried to pull my arms free (they were through the instrument panel of my car) and realized I was. The next thing that went through my head was "don't move your head or neck you know better". I just stayed put and as the cop walked back up to my car I can remember telling him "hey you mind getting me out of here smokey?" Usually I loved making fun of those hats, but this day, it was a site of comfort as were the sound of the sirens. It's amazing how comforting that sound can be when it's you that's in trouble. I realized I didn't hurt and kept wondering, why don't I hurt? I didn't understand why I didn't feel anything (real smart here didn't realize I was in shock eh?). The cop panicked realizing I was still alive (he seriously thought I was dead) and immediately called for a helicopter. First thing I said was "no way in hell you're flying me out, I'm fine just stuck, you can take me to the local hospital". Obviously he didn't comply - dang cops just don't listen well do they? I don't remember anything in between, but I was told I was in and out of consciousness as it took over an hour to remove me from the tangled mess of my car. They said when I was awake I kept telling them how to extricate me from my car (I didn't realize there was no front end to my car). I just knew I was pinned in there and wanted out, but I was told I never panicked, just insistent on how they should get me out. The next thing I remember was seeing a helicopter landing (dang cop) and continuing to argue with them that they weren't flying me out. I didn't win the arguement and I was loaded up. I looked into the flight medic's face and told him "just don't let me die". Evidently I became combative in flight and well we know what goes on when that happens. Evidently at some point the sedation wore off in the ER and I remember hearing them say that C5 and C6 looked funny. I can remember thinking that's why I didn't hurt and thinking through the stupid thing I learned in class about what injury correlated to what vertebrae and thinking where does that leave me? What will I still be able to do? My life is about to change. Evidently things went quite downhill after that because I was out for the next three weeks and unaware of anything.

My sister later told me when she talked to my chief his first comment was "is she still alive?". My coworkers kept coming around and talking to me, telling me that everything would be okay, but I wasn't aware of it, but it was good to know they were there and cared about me. I remember the first day I was aware of anything looking around and realizing what had happened and looking down at my legs which were in casts and I willed my toes to move. I had to know if I was paralyzed or not. They moved and I thought, well at least I have function, the rest can be dealt with. The doc came in a little later and I asked him when I could go back to work and the hobbies that I loved so well. He told me it would probably never happen and I would be lucky to walk again with the damage to my legs. I had pretty much broken everything in my lower body, suffered a head injury, pulmonary embolisms, developed ARDS, and lacerated my liver and spleen. Yet somehow I had managed to live and had not damaged my spine (the cervical spine issues were just a minor abnormality in the vertebrae in my neck not a break as they originally thought). Everything hurt, but I was grateful to be alive, but I wouldn't accept not walking or returning to EMS or the other important things in my life. I loved them too much. I knew the wreck had been bad, and I needed to see the pictures for closure, so I could fully understand what had happened. Everyone except my partner at the time refused to let me see. I just kept getting the response "you don't need to see that, you don't want to". My partner went to the site where my wrecked car was and took pictures and brought them to me against everyone's advice. He was adamant though that I saw them how he showed them. The first ones looked like I expected the car would and then he showed my the side. I no longer had a front end to my car - it had literally been ripped in half. Then I saw the section of what was the driver's seat and I just couldn't take my eyes off of it. When I looked, there was no space for a person. The only reason I lived was my seat broke in the impact and when the car crumpled, I was pushed back and what was left of the front end of my car was pushed up on top of me. I went from the front seat to essentially the back seat. A few more inches and I wouldn't be here. They had to push the front end back over three feet just to get to me. To this day I look at it and wonder how anyone could survive.

It took over 20 surgeries to restore my body to a functional state and I was stuck in a wheelchair unable to walk for over three months. I had to stay in a rehab facility and every day deal with extreme pain. The next obstacle was returning to work and everything I loved. My mind couldn't understand my body's limitations or accept them. I worked my butt off in therapy and a year almost to the date of the accident I got to return to work released to full duty. I have worked extremely hard since then never giving up on any of my dreams, finally completing the last phase of my recovery almost five years since the accident and celebrating it.

The accident as horrible as it was made me appreciate everything I had. My friends, coworkers, family and everyone that stood by me during that time. Also, it made me appreciate what my trauma patients went through and the long road to recovery they faced. Before that I only thought of it as get them on the helicopter and to the trauma center (remember I work rural so a vast majority of severe trauma pts are flown) never once thinking of the long road to recovery they faced or the fact that their lives would be forever changed. I didn't care about that I just cared about saving their lives. Not that it was wrong, I just look at them with a different expression now, one of knowing the long road they will face ahead. I have more compassion to those in that situation and yes, it affects my work and I'm glad. If it didn't I would be concerned. For me, it took going from caregiver to the one cared for to develop that empathy for my patients, but it's made me a better person and a better caregiver. I wouldn't have it any other way. Thank you to all those that cared doesn't seem to be enough, but words will have to suffice as I don't know any other way to say it except to try to pass it on to everyone I care for.

Stay safe out there.

[itku2er]

Your story brings one question to mind J.C. and that is this: Can we go back or do we really want to?

Thanks for sharing that little bit of you with us. You sound like my son his first day of FB practice he sure did puke alot! Guess its a male football thing

[Happiness]

I have a pretty open mind and I enjoy learning from others (even if it is that albertan squint)

I became a emt because on the day my brother in law died in my lap there was no ambulance in our community. In hind site he still would have died reguardless but it was decided by my paramedic friends that I would make a good medic and then they went and made sure I have babysitting ect for the course that I had to attend and here I am.

Now 14 years later I am still learning and come to this site everyday so that I can find new information, see what everyone is up to and have a quick argument if there is time. This week I need info about pallative and hospice care (thanks mother those links are great) and to those I asked thanks. One thing I do find here is not matter who you are (cranky, snotty, mean or any other bad chartactistics) if you come here for some help it will be provided to you.

I think we all have good and bad in us and as I say to my boys You will never like everyone and the ones you dont you suck it up or walk away.

[tniuqs]

(even if it is that albertan squint)

Ah dishonorable mention .... at last.

Quoting AK:

Seems I also went into pulseless Vtach

This explains a LOT !

And beer is obviously not your allergic response trigger.

cheers