It’s like I had been in a dream state for so long and had been violently shaken awake by an unseen hand. The world that was kind of blurry and fuzzy was now before me in sharp focus, waiting for my next move so it seemed. For months now, I had been living in this dream world, without much feeling or thought and now… now my heart was racing, my pulse was pounding in my ear, and goofy and confident smile was firm and in place on my tired and sweaty face. It was my “AHA!” moment in EMS.
I came to my company fresh out of my new student packaging- a first for them. They really didn’t have a training program for a brand new paramedic, nor did they have time to figure it out. The week that I started working for “The Red” was the week that Hurricane Gustav was making its way onto our shores. So, I was sort of just thrown into the mix of disaster preparation and relief- transferring nursing home patients out of evacuation areas, helping clean up around the station so we wouldn’t be the cause of possible projectiles, boarding up windows, and getting ready for the surge of 911 calls expected in the next few days. I didn’t have time to be a probie, really… I was thrown onto the streets and told “go get ‘em, kid.” To this day- I am still the company’s youngest paramedic and I’m proud of that.
With this hasty orientation, looking back I realize that I missed out on valuable probie lessons. As the youngest kid on crew, I felt constantly belittled and untrusted by some older and experienced colleagues, police officers, and hospital staff. If you’ve met me, you may have a inkling as to why this is. I stand at 5’2″, have a love of pigtails, talk like an excited school girl about all things, and have one of the goofiest and widest grins to fit on such a tiny face. I can see why it’s so hard to hand a scene to such a little shrimp when you’re a 6’5″ fire captain of 20 years. You know what I was doing 20 years ago? I was watching The Little Mermaid in footie pajamas and drinking juice out of a box. (Ok, I was doing that last week, too. Not much changes…) So for the first few months of my career, I did as I was told. I let my older and more experienced partners comfort the patient while I performed my ALS interventions. If the hospital questioned my course of treatment, I’d quote my protocol book and cower in the corner.
Then it happened. It was a rough call. It was called in as “vomiting blood” call at a local restaurant. When I stepped on to the scene, I was met by panicked family members and restaurant staff, some who jokingly asked where the “grown up ambulance” was. I picked up the pace and started briskly walking towards the scene, almost jogging just to keep up with them. The first thing I noticed was the smell in the lobby- it was obviously blood. But not the kind you’d expect at this kind of call. I see my patient and my partner and I stop in our tracks. She wasn’t vomiting blood- she was coughing up blood. I stepped forward and looked down at my boots- they were saturated in blood- how long had she been coughing like this? How was she still sitting up and talking to us? My partner- who has been an EMT for 15 years and is currently at the end of his paramedic course work- just looked at me with question in his eyes. I shrugged and wheeled the stretcher to her side and we loaded her up quickly. The whole restaurant was watching and she seemed embarrassed about the mess she was making- typical southern reaction, I suppose. As we got her into the back of our ambulance with her panicking family in tow, I watched her vitals circle the drain as my partner looked at me with big fish bowl eyes. Finally- I made a clinical decision (one that I cannot share due to company policy and patient privacy) that was very dramatic. Her family looked at me in horror and started yelling at my partner, like he was in charge. This is where the fog cleared. This was my scene, this was my call, this was my patient, and my responsibility. Suddenly, it was clear to me… I wasn’t just some kid. I studied long and hard to be a medic. This was my passion, this was my job, this is what I loved doing and darn it, I was great at it! Finally, after months of wandering through prehospital medicine with my tail tucked between my legs, I stood up and took the scene for mine. I calmed the family while I hung a line, I called in a confident ER report, and I nodded simply at my partner- saying a silent “I got this, bro.” He smiled at me and continued driving.
As I unloaded the patient and talked to the ER doc, she smiled at me and said, “You made the right call, rookie. I’m proud to see you standing tall behind your decision. You just saved her life.” Further boosting my confidence was the once panicked family who thanked me over and over again and apologized for panicking when “such a capable medic” was their guide. I blushed but smiled my most confident smile and said, “It’s my job and my pleasure.” My partner, who had always believed in me, told some of our colleagues about it and the back patting continued for a while. I think in their eyes, that was the day that I grew up.
I may be little, I may be young, I may be mild and laid back at times… but medicine is my forte and my life long dream. From that moment on, it wasn’t just a job for me- but a passion and career and I knew that I could not just make it in this field… but I can do BIG things if I set my goals high enough. I’ll never forget something that the wise Steve Whitehead told me and my friend Jeremiah:
“You’re not stealing anyone’s thunder. You’re making thunder. I like the way it sounds.”
That being said, expect a freaking thunderstorm from this little medic…
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Great Blog! Thanks for sharing!
So i don’t know if it’s just because i’m sleep deprived, but that was a great story. I cried. pahahaha. i love the responsiblity we have, as medical professionals, to have a chance to save someone’s life and make a difference in that person’s life. It’s a wonderful and scary gift. I am so proud of you, MsP!
<3
MY guess is you had to tube the patient. Sounds like esophageal varices. Those can bleed a lot and are tough to handle. Whatever it was, good job. Great to be a medic huh?!!
wow, excellent story MsP! I hope that when I start working on a rig, I get a medic like you as my mentor… and I hope my “Aha” moment is like yours
~Brad
@EMTGoose
[...] encountered the patient. And then she made the choice to take charge, and that’s when her Aha! moment [...]
Assertive but not pushy, confident but not cocky. That’s what it takes, and you have it. Good for you!