For the past 11 weeks I’ve been back on nights. I’ve spent 50% of the last 3 months away from my family, missing them more than I can describe. The hardest part has been saying “goodnight” to my son over the phone. When we started, it was particularly hard. He didn’t really get it, and mostly just ignored the voice on the phone. Now he gets it… and maybe it is even harder… His sad little voice is just too much sometimes.
But in a week, I get to go back to days. There are a lot of changes with that switch to days, all of which make me anxious… But I get to go back to days! I get to tuck my boy in, sleep in a bed next to my wife, and see them both in the morning.
The stress working nights has put on my family is hard to explain… but god damn it will be nice to be home like a normal dad. Three years ago when I started this career I couldn’t imagine how it could put strains on my life….
Back in November I got to spend nearly a week hunting Mule Deer in Western South Dakota with my dad. On my way home I took a few pictures of my favorite memories from the many trips with my dad. The first are of an old Minuteman Missile Silo just a few miles from where we stay. The gate was open, so I helped myself to a tour…
Next is an old Sears and Roebuck house on the land we hunt. It is like a lighthouse overlooking this wide open stretch of prairie. I’ve been enamored with this house since my first hunt out there 15 years ago.
And a few of a long vacant motel just off the interstate.
Finally, a pic of my little guy at one of his favorite places
For all of my life I have been “moley” as my mom calls it. I have a lot of moles. My parents both have a good deal as well. When I was younger I had a few larger moles removed, but nothing was ever found. They were Benign. Over the years I let myself get more than my share of sun. Years of life guarding and doing stupid crap while not protecting my skin. Well, if only barely, it is starting to catch up with me.
About a month ago I had two moles excised from my back, mostly as a precaution. They are two of nearly 2 dozen of various sizes and shapes on my back. A week or so went by and I had nearly forgotten about them when the Dr’s office called and said I needed to come in to have them excised out further. I was in an awkward place and busy, but I said ok and scheduled an appointment.
I arrived on the day of my appointment with basically no idea what was going on. The doc came in(a doc I have went to off and on for 15 years) and we chatted casually, and then he got a little more serious. He explained the moles were not malignant… not yet anyways. They were dysplastic nevi. “Abnormal moles” if you will. The name sounds worse than it is, or does it….
Skincancer.org says:
“those who have 10 or more have 12 times the risk of developing melanoma compared to the general population”
Ok. You got my attention. I now have take a pledge with my wife to not go out in any way without sunscreen. We’re still looking for the best oil free sunscreen that comes in spray on. But it just has to be part of my life. I’m in search of a good Dermatologist too, since I feel like the previous doc just guess at which to excise.
Also, I’m a little scared. I’m a lot scare, really. Of all the medical problems I’ve had over the last decade, none of them have had life threatening implication. None of them involved the C-word. Most of them were “voluntary” surgeries. Maybe even “elective”. I’m having unnatural thoughts and fears and I only know enough to scare me.
Ugh.
So I just ask you. Get check. Check out the info at dcmf.ca for some tools to help you track the moles you have. I plan this week to take photo documentation of the moles I have to “catalog” them and their progression. My wife is going to be creeped out by this, but I really don’t care.
Just get check out. Ok? And watch this video. Its worth the 5 minutes of Desperate Housewives you’ll miss.
Wait… I don’t think I was? But this says I must have been if I logged into my account from there? Bastards. Sorry to everyone who got a spam email from me this morning….
I’ve had me m3 email address hacked, and I am in the process of getting it back from Google, right now. It was actually completely taken over…. so If you get an email from me, disregard. I am NOT in London and do not need you to send me your credit card/social security number/first born.
I took AD’s challenge, last week.I started at 183.4 lbs. Today… I am 179.4 lbs(up a little from a few days ago….). I am under 180 lbs for the first time in nearly 5 years. Mrs M3 is doing amazing, btw. While I am just conserving calories, she is busting her ass working out every day. Very proud of her for sticking with it. You’re amazing, baby!
Staying on the wagon is a little tricky this weekend. Home alone while the wife and little guy are at the inlaws… Pizza called my name, very loudly…. and that M3 Oktoberfest(or Februaryfest) is really starting to call my name…
Can you accept the challenge, too? Not many people in the EMS field can’t stand to lose a few pounds… So I challenge YOU to get off your well cushioned arse and do something about it. Today.
Sad as it may be, many medics spend a great deal of time trying to get out of doing their jobs. We’ve all been there: annoyed, over tired, and over worked. We don’t get paid any more to transport, so sometimes we seem to think that maybe the patient doesn’t really need an ambulance….
I can see how it plaid out in my head. I really can… and that is what scares me the most. In 2008, 39 year old Edward Givens died shortly after EMS saw him at his home. The medic that day told Mr Givens he was just having acid reflux and recommended Pepto Bismol. Two hours later Mr Givens was dead.
You can see it now, can’t you? Maybe the patient is being overly dramatic, or maybe it is the family. You’ve been working for 20 hours and this is your 30th call. You’re 8 charts deep and know that another refusal or no ambulance needed is less work than the transport…
But here is the problem…. it is our job to transport people to the hospital. It isn’t our job to determine whether they need an ambulance or not. If someone wants to go, we take them. Regardless of whether you think they are sick or not. We don’t diagnose. We don’t cure. We are in the business of transporting patients.
I don’t know what really happened that day in 2008, but I do know that we’ve all been there before. We’ve all spent a considerable amount of energy on not transporting someone. Maybe you’ve even had a close call. A stroke you thought was a diabetic… or an AMI that you thought had reflux… But until now you’ve skated by.
Well stop. Stop expending so much energy trying to get out of doing your job. If you’re no longer interested in transporting patients, find a new line of work. When it comes down to it, is it worth risking someones life, your job, and your family’s livelihood on it? The medics in question here were not found to have violated any policies or procedures by their employer…. but do YOU want to live with that on your shoulders?
If you are just trying to be dramatic and get attention, downing a bottle of tylenol is a really crappy way to do it.
Because you’ll probably die. Not might. You will most likely die, if you take 100 Tylenol capsules. I’m sorry, but I didn’t do it to you. If you need help or attention, ask. If the people you ask don’t pay attention, ask someone else.
Or suck. It. Up. If you don’t really want to die, don’t do something that is most certainly going to kill you. And PS, killing yourself is a petty, selfish and disgusting act. Killing yourself because your 15 year old pimply faced boyfriend broke up with you for cheating on him with his pimply faced best friend is just fucking stupid.
How I love potato chips. And Mt Dew. Oh, and I love pizza, beer, cheese, hamburgers, and my personal favorite… the Butterburger from Culvers. (yes, they really cook it in butter)
But it is time to lose this gut. When I graduated high school in 2002 I weight 132 pounds. I was a distance runner… Now the distance I run is from the couch to the fridge–with two stops, ended with a beer….
Kelly over at www.ambulancedriverfiles.com has placed the challenge, and I accept. Time to lose the weight.
My goal is 155lbs by June 18 when we go to Vegas for a friends wedding. Any other takers out there?
“Mr Thompson…. Today when we arrived your wife was not breathing, her heart was not beating. We began CPR and hooked her up to our cardiac monitor. The monitor showed that your wife’s heart had stopped. It had no electrical activity.
At that time we continued CPR while administering heart-starting medications and inserting a breathing tube. After nearly 20 minutes, nothing has changed. Her heart is still not beating. She is still not breathing.
I give you my most sincere condolences, but she is deceased and there is nothing more we can do. I’m very sorry sorry for your loss. ”
This is how it plays out in my head. Well put, accurate, somewhat concise…
But it never comes out as well and they never let you get that far. It is even harder in untimely deaths.
What do YOU tell people when their loved ones have died?
Everyone who works in EMS knows the reality of death and dying. We make a living on the simple fact that people get sick, hurt, and die. Peoples stupidity, misfortune, and bad luck are my job security.
What makes that knowledge hard to swallow is not other people’s emergencies. The sick and dying do not greatly effect me. Obviously some cases are more gut wrenching than others, but most of the time the dying do not have faces, stories or names. They are just another body on the bed. You have to think this way to survive in this field. You can’t take them all home with you.
But I do take home a very unnatural fear. That doing my job–the job I love to do despite crappy ours, management and pay–will take my life. Every single EMS and Fire Line of Duty Death scares the crap out of me. EMS is a dangerous line of work. Driving fast and hard through red lights, stop signs, traffic and weather is bound to end badly.
But I think I am too worried. I often think about my son growing up fatherless, my wife widowed… and I am not sure how long I can keep doing it. I LOVE my job. I love the occasional day where I can help someone and actually do more than be a glorified taxi driver…
But at what point am I worrying too much? At what point will that get in the way of doing my job? It is just hard to be another “warm body in the seat” when I know that the risks are so real.
Maybe I’m just superstitious. Maybe I’m a little insecure… But for over 3 years, every day I have put the same EMS pocket guide in my right cargo pocket every day on my out the door. Every. Single. Day.
It is worn and tattered, but not so much from use. I can only think of 2 or 3 times I have actually referenced it in the field. But still, every day I put it in my pocket and pat the pocket to make sure it is there.
Seriously? Do you? This is a question my wife and I have been talking about for a while as she considering going back to school for various things. I know she doesn’t care for her job, but has always stayed because it pays well and we needed the money.
I switched jobs several times in a small time frame(and chronically through life) but have been with my current job for about 20 months. The pay leaves something to be desired… no seriously, but most of the rest of my job leaves me feeling satisfied. I am finally on a shift I like, get to see my family, and do a job that I am passionate about. We have our fair shair of office politics and typical personality clashes associated with a company full of type-A personalities, but as a whole, I love my job.
This leads me to my current predicament. I am always interested in other jobs and opportunities. Not because I need to be… And I know that in this economy we should just be happy to have ANY job. Still, I find myself looking at other options. Next week I interview for what could be a very interesting opportunity–still working as a medic, but in a smaller hospital/ambulance setting.
So the questions persists, do you love your job? Do you look around?
Amazing what a change of partners can do. A year ago my job was almost unbearable… today, I love it.
Ok, Love is a really strong word. I like my job though. I don’t have a hard time getting out of bed to do it. Do fakers and drama queens still drive me nuts…. yup.
But the best part is that instead of getting pissed at them… I just screw with them. Fun had at the expense of others is always the best kind.
Amazing how working with someone, a friend mind you, can really make work miserable. When someone else hates their job… it makes it hard for you to even bare going there.
I have a post planned for tomorrow, don’t forget to stop back!
Are we “service” professionals? Do you view patients as “customers”?
I work for a corporate system and I am having a hard time wrapping my head around some of corporate nonsense they are using in employee publications as of late.
What do you think of calling “patients” “customers”?
My first impression…. I was under the impression “customers” “bought” things…. not took them for free?
