What I Learned Through EMT Training— The Viewpoint of a Neurotic Optimist

Here I am at 2:30am. Tired. Exhausted. A little hungry. Very inspired. Medical terminology plays through my head.

The femur is proximal to the foot. The hand is distal to the elbow.

I suppose my journey into Emergency Medical Services (EMS) began like any story with Once Upon A Time…

I remember the car accident— no, wait. We were instructed in class to call them vehicle collisions.— that my mother and I were in when I was six. I remember waking up on the quiet interstate inside our car outside Crowley, Louisiana. We were on a small road trip for her work, and I was, like another improperly restrained child in the front passenger seat, taking a lovely little nap … like a boss. Next thing I remember I was staring up at shattered windshield glass. I looked over at my mother who had a bandage on her nose. Paramedics and firemen must have been there by this point, but I do not remember that. In fact, that is all I remember. I remember saying shit under my breath and going back to sleep. Us bosses need our beauty sleep you know. I do not remember the ambulance ride. I do not remember the sensation of my lower left leg burning and melting down my Nikes. I now know this traumatic injury to be called a full-thickness burn or a severe third-degree burn penetrates through the epidermis and dermis layers of the skin, leaving the affected area white or charred in appearance. There is no sensation in the area since the nerve endings are destroyed. Thanks EMT Academy! What I remember next is waking up in the hospital… that and them cooking me in a huge pot like stew. Little did I know how that traffic collision would ultimately affect my mother and I’s relationship and result in over a decade so far of zero communication.

Anyhow…

For the past few years, I’ve been notorious for saying if I could invent time travel and do it all over again, I’d (besides make a killing on the blackmarket. Dino eggs anyone?) go into medicine and probably be a surgeon. Either that or Internal Medicine like JD from television’s Scrubs. In fact, I have always felt a personal connection to John Michael Dorian through each yearly binge watching pilgrimage. After all, we are both quirky, daydreaming neurotics with inner monologues, and, may I say, terrific hair. But that is beside the point. What I have always felt we shared is a hopeful outlook and a deep need to care for others. When the world gets tough, when people need saving, there we will be. Was our need to care for others rooted in our own insecurities and desperate need to feel loved? Maybe, but that need to save the world still exists.

While you may think it’s never too late for me to hit the halls and labs of medical school and like the Coldplay songs says “try to fix you,” for me that ship has sailed and time travel is but fiction for me to imagine. You have to understand I’m 32 now. I have bills to pay. Truthfully, that was the one thing that prevented me from pursuing medicine. Money. The one thing I did NOT want to do was spend 12 years in school and accrue mountains of debt.

What did I do? 9 years and gained a mountain of debt for a bachelors, a masters, and an MFA. Such is life.

My life became dedicated to my education and the education of others. I have forever loved the classroom, the possibilities that can be learned inside, and the lessons learned through a good book. However, what was once pure and a symbol of safety for countless children has grown tarnished in recent years. We are now faced with an awful truth: THE WORLD IS A SCARY PLACE AND PEOPLE ARE DANGEROUS. The thoughts of Columbine version 2 never crossed my mind during my formative years nor during my years training to nourish young minds with a copy of Lord of the Flies in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Yet with recent shootings like Sandy Hook, Uvalde, Parkland, and Orlando close in our rear view mirrors, I recently realized that my responsibility goes beyond the instruction I provide. I may very well be faced with a terrible situation where I may need to save someone’s life with my hands and a T-shirt, not that that’s sanitary.

Always make sure to wear your PPE (personal protective equipment): gloves, mask, eyewear when on a call.

Thus my mission became clear and into an EMT class I registered. Coming into it, I knew a few things. One, I’d be a total nerd and sit in the front and be the brainiac of the classroom. Old habits die hard you know. Second, I knew I’d be able to handle every bit of gore and gnarly situation with ease. I survived a rough childhood, and that’s all I’ll say. But! What I did not anticipate was enjoying my time so much. A duty to save became a passion. While the course has definitely been harder than I had anticipated, I’ve grown eager to practice my new skills in the real world. I am at the cusp of leaving the classroom behind forever and serving on an ambulance rig and maybe even getting fire certified. How scary. How exciting. Which leads me to tonight…

Currently I have running through my head a constant parade of facts and numbers.

“Pulmonary Embolism: Clot in the pulmonary artery. Symptoms include 1. Sharp, localized pain in chest 2. Hurts more when inhaling. Treat with O2, ALS, and Transport.”

“Pneumothorax: caused by trauma or emphysema. Symptoms include 1. Difficulty breathing. 2. Absent lungs sound on one or more sides. 3. Possible tracheal deviation if left untreated. Treat with BVM, Call ALS, Needle Decompression, and Continue ventilation.”

“Naloxone or Narcan. Class: Opiate Antagonist. Intrication: Opiate overdose. Look for pinprick pupils, low RR, unconscious and difficulty breathing, nausea and vomiting. Contraindications: Systolic pressure below 90. ED meds in last 24 hours. Side Effects: patient irritable and combative. May swing. Dose and Route: 2mg intranasal.”

Etc. Etc. Etc.

Even when I try to sleep, the endless recorder plays. “Cardiac Tamponade. Symptoms—”

…

What I have learned most of all from my EMT training is not to take my health for granted. I have always been a procrastinator when it came to getting in shape. That is until December…

I had already paid the class’s tuition and bought the textbook a month before the class began. It was Christmas time, and my fiancée’ parents gifted me with a sphygmomanometer (blood pressure cuff for you layman) and a stethoscope. I was eager, as you can imagine, to test out my new equipment. What did I discover you ask? High blood pressure. I got it bad. What did this mean? It meant the countless fast-food cheeseburgers I had snuck into my diet had finally caught up to me. It meant that all the stress I had felt at work and allowed to consume my life like a game of Ms. Pacman was killing me. Not a super great way to enjoy the holidays. In fact, I became more stressed. I needed to make a change. I needed to breathe and calm down and not let life win. I’m still working on this to be honest, but with high anxiety and a need to be loved, my best is all I can do.

Also, and this is short and simple, I learned that I will never smoke. I’ve never been a smoker besides the occasional lone cigarette when I wanted to feel like a depressed French writer. and bask in the cold night air. However, one of the first lessons was the physiology of the lungs and how the alveoli, the many tiny air sacs of the lungs which allow for rapid gaseous exchange, are affected by Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) through emphysema and chronic bronchitis. Never again would I dance with Marlboro Lights. My aunt died of smoking. My mother, wherever she is (I do miss you.) will most likely succumb to the effects of smoking. But not me.

I’ve come too far.

Next week is the last week of class, and I am tired and nervous and a little hungry. I have one more week before I face the Big Bad Wolf. One week before I take the NREMT Exam. After I pass it—God, I hope I pass it— I will without hesitation continue my education, this time in pursuit of an Advanced Emergency Technician certification. And in the future: Paramedic School. Wherever I am, whatever I am doing as a career, I know I have to do this for me, because I deserve it. Because I seek to be the best. Because I strive for a bigger purpose. Because…

Rest assured, if you ever fall… if you ever need a bandaid… I will be there. I will “try to fix you.” I have to.