Favorite ER Nurse

For over a year now, I have worked with a certain nurse doing patient care transfers. At first, I thought she was mean to me because I was new and didn't know my way around the hospital or the system. Then I thought she was mean to me because I was a new EMT and didn't know how to give a report very concisely. Then I thought that she was mean to me because I was bad at what I do and I didn't recognize it. Then I thought that maybe, just maybe, I always managed to catch her on bad days. But tonight, I finally realized that I just needed to write her a letter, and perhaps we could start fresh.

Dear Favorite ER Nurse,

I just wanted to take a few moments out of my incredibly uneventful and underwhelming life to write you a letter to apologize for a few things, and thank you for being such a great mentor.

I am truly sorry that when my partner was calling in his report he failed to mention that our patient was in Stage 4 Metastatic Ovarian Cancer. Because, obviously, that detail is not in her chart, since she has not once been to your facility for treatment of this disease. Also, since she was being transported for a leaking colostomy bag, I apologize that he left out this crucial detail. I really should have caught that and scolded him right off the bat, but I was too busy looking up a big word. The patient said she was bleeding from her...stomuh? Or wait, is it stoemah? Stoma? Regardless. I should have been paying closer attention.

I apologize that while caring for our patient I didn't think to raise the hospital bed so that we could sheet her over. You were in the general vicinity of the foot pedal, and I was on the opposite side and...aw, shit, looking back on it, I definitely should have abandoned patient care to deal with this so that you didn't have to.

Also, I just wanted to say that it's okay that you didn't help us sheet her over from our stretcher to your bed. I know you felt bad because you were busy watching; after so many years in the business, you probably needed to watch a time or two more to make sure you got the technique down pat. Everybody needs to learn! If I can help you figure out any other tricky maneuvers, please be sure to let me know; I'm a great teacher!

But most of all, thank you Favorite ER Nurse, for all your help in these many months that we've worked together. You've instilled a certain sense of confidence in me and my partners, and I really appreciate it. I'm sorry if I've been frustrating at all. I'm a bit green (a pulse-ox reading shows percentage of oxygen in the blood...not percent perfusion!?), and extremely uneducated (can't believe they let me out of high school and into college!). Thank you for putting up with me at all; it's a wonder that anyone can, really.

Sincerely yours,
Sam


As we were riding back to the station, I told Drew, "if I ever get so jaded that I act that way towards my patients or coworkers, pull me aside and tell me it's time to stop." I'm a very nice person...for the most part. I keep my sarcasm to a minimum...for the most part. After tonight, however, I simply could not deal with her particular brand of bitchy another night.

To all the nurses (ER and otherwise) who read, please know that I really, truly appreciate what you do. Most of you are so nice, and I appreciate your help and company so much. I understand bad days more than anyone, but this woman can't seem to have a single good one.

It's time to sleep off the angst.

10,000 Hits/Thank You

Epi wrote a really inspiring post that I felt compelled to do as well. It seemed apropos, given the 10,000th hit on my blog, to thank some specific bloggers (alphabetically) who have made an impact on me personally, through their posts, and in other ways they might not even know.

But this is not to mention those of you who read on a daily basis. Thank you, thank you, thank you for everything, guys (and ladies!). You make me so happy; you have no idea.

Ambulance Driver (AD):
It was because of you that I got in to blogging, mainly. A friend linked me to your blog, and I was immediately drawn in. I love your (sometimes acerbic) wit, your way with words, and your insight into things. Can't wait for the book.

Backboads & Band-aids (EE):
A fellow young female college EMT, you have been so much fun to talk to. I love reading your posts because they are so often funny, and always offer an interesting perspective. You're always there to offer a kind word. I love that you update so frequently, because it gives me something to look forward to after a long day.

Forging Iron Man (Scott):
You are such an inspiration. An amazing person who has endured so much and continues to fight through nursing school. I love reading what you have to say, because it ranges from medically interesting posts to video game challenges. I have to say: if I ever fall ill in Cheyenne, I do hope that you're my nurse!

Pink Warm & Dry (EpiJunky):
You, my dear, are unbelievably amazing. I know you didn't do as well in medic school as you had hoped, but your tenacity is phenomenal; I am so proud of you for getting back in the saddle. Your pictures of the day are excellent; your talent is simply wonderful. I love the posts about your children; I hope that one day I can share that kind of love. Thank you for always encouraging me and sharing my hatred for the O2 cascade thing. Ugh. I have a feeling that we would be great friends in real life.

That Paramedic Student Is A Stress Case (Kyle):
You were one of the first people to reach out to me through comments and various other forms of media. I was lucky enough to get to know you at the tail end of your time in medic school, so I got to see you transition from that phase in your life to being a full-blown paramedic; for that I feel truly thankful, because it has encouraged me to pursue my dream. You are an amazing friend, and even though you don't update as often as people wish you would (no, trust me, it's not just me!), I am just happy that I get to know you outside of blogger. I really hope to see you do well in life; make us proud.


Now, obviously there are more people who have influenced me. Mom? Dad? Thanks (you know, for everything). All the friends and family that I have been lucky enough to have in my life have made such a huge impact on me I can't even begin to describe. Various professors, teachers and mentors have changed my life in ways I don't know that I fully comprehend yet (or ever, for that matter).
To "Drew," thank you for always pushing me to be my best. You're a good friend and a great partner, not to mention that you're really easy to write about. Thanks for always reminding me to update, by the way.
To "Eric," you're like an onion big, round and smelly (sorry, I couldn't resist--you can hit me later); you're full of layers that I have yet to reveal. You're a really good partner who I know will protect me at all costs. Thanks for everything you do.

Point is this--to all of you who I have ever known, talked to, or encountered: thanks. You've all made me who I am today, and for that I am truly grateful.

Gosh, now that I've gone and written some kind of graduation speech, I'm going to go put on my uniform and get ready for a good night. Expect some kind of update tonight or tomorrow (if we get something I feel I can write about, haha)!

Yours,
Sam

Things

Updated the blog roll (pick a random link and go say "hi!").
Thought up new post ideas.
Worked my butt off during Spring "Break."
Saw "Atonement" (Very good).
Spent some much needed time with my family and best friends.
Figured out when/where to do my research (hello New York City!).
Finished another thing off my list.
Decided to write a book now rather than later.

Life is pretty good.
Also, as it turns out, my grandparents read the blog! Hi Pop-pop and Grandma!

I'll have a new post up soon, I hope!

--Sam

Sweet Baby James

The trailer is the last one on the right, pressed up against the infinite night sky. I swear I can see everything and nothing at the same time in that sky as I round the corner to search for the stairs. Eric shines a flashlight at the ground and I see the beginnings of a step. With one foot reaching out for it, I look up.
"Shit!" I jump back into Eric, who catches me around the waist without hesitation, pulling me away from whatever unseen danger I encountered. He starts laughing as he sees what startled me; a big dog as black as the night around it sits happily on the steps, wagging his tail and panting heavily. Drew rounds the corner and laughs as he approaches the dog.
"Good boy," he says approvingly, "you show her." He growls at me jokingly as I try to calm myself before knocking on the door.
The wall of heat hits me first, followed quickly by a disarming smell. I put my arm up to my nose, and steady myself as I begin breathing through my mouth. A roach skitters across the floor and finds refuge under the TV. I want to leave. I want to go back to the station and curl up under my clean blanket while I breathe fresh air. I don't really care where I go as long as it's away from this trailer with this smell.
My eyes lock on the little boy sitting on his mother's lap. I take a deep breath and remind myself why I'm here.
"Baby," I mutter under my breath, "febrile seizure."
We waste no time on scene, and the family lends us their car seat to use to transport their baby, James. Securing the seat onto our stretcher, Drew falters.
"Um, Sam," he says unsure of what to do. I see him trying to buckle James in, but the latch simply won't catch. Laughing, I move the buckle to the proper position and press down firmly. The seat responds with a satisfying "click!" and Drew shakes his head.
"What would I do without you," he asks with a wink.
I sit down on the end of the stretcher and start getting a set of vitals as we head towards the hospital. I stick a pedi-pulse-ox on his finger and secure it. James looks at me, looks down at his finger, looks back at me and lets out a sigh.
"You're kidding, right?" I can almost see his thought process and I laugh. Drew notices his frustration and breaks out one of the stuffed animals we keep stocked on the rig. I smile and hand the bear to James who looks at it warily.
"It's okay, you can have him," Drew says softly.
"I think we should name him, don't you?" Drew looks at me with a look that says, "He can't even talk yet, why would he care about naming the stupid thing?"
"We should definitely name him," I say more emphatically this time. "How does David sound?" Drew plays his part and nods sheepishly.
"David sounds like a great name, Sam." I tuck David in with James who reluctantly decides that this bear might be okay after all. Every once in a while, he gives me a little smile accompanied by a slight noise. It's obvious that he favors Drew, however, as he continually offers him the bear.
"One of us has to be the bad guy," Drew notes as he shows me the glucometer.
"I'll do it," I say, thinking how James favors him anyway. I prick his finger and he barely moves. He looks at me as if to say, "was that really necessary," and then he shoots Drew an annoyed look.
"I know, little man," Drew says without missing a beat, "she's mean."
James reaches out for my hand and squeezes my finger when I oblige. For a second I get lost in the moment. In the ambulance windows, I can see the reflection of my long red hair cascading in soft curls down my back. I can see Drew talking to James through the teddy bear as if it were animated itself, and James squeezing my finger tightly as he giggles softly back.
Feeling him let go of my finger, I turn back around. Drew is writing something down on his clipboard, and I focus on James. A small bug crawls out of his hair, across his forehead and pauses there for a moment. Without hesitation I reach over, pull it off of him and smash it. Normally I'd put it outside, but at 60mph in an ambulance driven by Eric, I resort to smashing. As I flick the dead offender into the trash can, I feel suddenly sad.
The happiness of that moment is gone, I realize as James closes his eyes sleepily. The car seat is crawling with the tiny bugs, Drew notes, and regardless of James' many smiles and little noises, I feel inexorably sad.
No matter how good the care is I provide for him, no matter how much I make him smile, when he goes home, nothing will be different. His trailer will still smell of smoke, rotting meat and ammonia. His car seat will still be covered with bugs. Nothing I do for him will change any of that.
And as we arrive to the hospital, I give his hands a little squeeze.
"Did the best we could," Drew says as he pats my shoulder knowingly.
"I wish I could have done more," I say quietly. He tousles my hair playfully and I smile reluctantly.
Eric comes around the corner, nods his head in my direction and says, "so, how about that dog?"

Rain

The rain beats down heavily on my windshield as I wait for the light to change. My driver's side window is open, as I listen to the sound the water makes as it smacks against the road and my outstretched hand. My hair is sopping wet, still dripping puddles onto my now see-through shirt. I shiver slightly, but I'm not truly cold. Two boys stand on the corner next to me, waiting for their turn to cross the street.
Death Cab for Cutie sings to me of being loved one day as the light turns green. I don't let up on the break, as I see a fire engine approaching. Unlike the drivers I deal with constantly, I wait my turn. The light turns back to red as soon as they pass. Normally I'd be upset, anxious to get home, but tonight I am content letting the rain run in rivulets down my arm. I faintly hear the boys next to me over the fading sound of the siren.
"Dude, do you think we should pray for them and wherever they're going?"
"Yeah, for sure." Their adolescent diction sounds so foreign in the context. I watch them stand together, hands clasped in front of them, heads bowed. No words; just the sound of my windshield wipers beating away the persistent rain. I turn them off and listen to the sound. The siren carries on faintly in the background as the lightning strikes and my soul rattles along with the thunder. Rain beats a steady tempo on the hood of my car. Death Cab carries on, telling me that I'll find my true love soon enough, but the silence is there.

You may feel alone when you're falling asleep
And everytime tears roll down your cheeks
But I know your heart belongs to someone you've yet to meet
Someday you will be loved

I feel shivers run down my spine as I gingerly touch the mizpah coin hanging around my neck. Every time the tones drop, I silently ask that my partners and I be kept safe, and that if I should die on this call, that those I love know that I love them. But I never really stopped to think from the other side of things. Who prays for me when I run through red lights with my siren blaring? Who prays for my patients, or for their families? I glance over at the boys still frozen in prayer.
They do.

As the light turns green, I let up on the clutch slowly, driving through the empty intersection as quietly as possible. I catch sight of them in my rear-view mirror as the lightning flashes; I see them captured in that moment each time I close my eyes.

And the rain falls hard on my hand as the world carries on outside of that street corner which will remain forever seared in my memory.

Other Sams

So, Scott over at Forging Iron Man had this habit of writing stories revolving around "Sam," who was either a nasty man or a devilish mannequin. I was always giving him hell about it because it was making us good Sams look bad! After a bout with writers' block, he decided to write a story about a girl named Samantha who is pretty kick ass.
You should definitely go check it out here and then read some of his greatest hits.

All the strong female Samanthas in the world thank you, Scott!

Two new posts in the work, by the way. Expect at least one tonight.

--Sam

Published!

Alright, this has nothing to do with EMS, writing, or anything that I tend to talk about here. However, my dad just brought it to my attention that the letter to the editor I wrote back in early January was actually published.
AD, now you and I are both in the Wall Street Journal ;)

Anyway, if you're interested, you can read it here. It's not very exciting or long, but hey, it's an accomplishment!

I'll write again soon,
Sam