Please Hold

Hi everyone.

For a variety of reasons, this blog is being put on hold for an indeterminate amount of time. It was only intended to explain a certain aspect of my life and may have gone too far. Anyone who would like to continue to follow my goings-on is welcome to access my other public blog--feel free to send me an email for the link.

25 October, 2009. 9:07 PM.

At approximately 2:30 PM on Saturday, October 24th, I was handed my EMT-B license. I walked out of the exam building, realized what just happened, and proceeded to do a little happy dance in the back streets of Charlestown. (Followed by going the wrong way on the Orange line but still making it to North Station in time for my train home.)

My summer is over now.

Thanks to Dan, Matt, Vince, Kassie and everyone else who helped me out during this process. There's nothing quite like getting quizzed on pediatric vitals via text message during work.

So, where from here? BEMCo, applying to places around my hometown. Next summer looks hectic as well, but I've got enough backup plans to ensure that I don't end up working as a property clerk again.

FINALLY.

At approximately 11:30 AM on Wednesday, October 7, 2009, I received notification that I had passed my Massachusetts State Practical Exam.



HOORAY!

I'm going to take my written exam next week and then I will be finished!

10 October, 2009. 5:39 PM.

My state exam was three weeks ago. Still waiting for results. Waiting, waiting... I'm still going over everything in my head to see if I messed something up. I'll post as soon as I know anything else. On that note, I did attend BEMCo orientation, so that when I do become certified, I can start taking shifts here. Apparently there are people who haven't met me who have read this. I'm worried that I don't convey myself properly on paper. But that is a worry for another time.

Matt's first shift of the year is coming to a close (or rather, came to a close a little while ago, for me at least). From the sound of things, he enjoyed himself. The first call came in while we were carrying a cake up to the Castle from where he lives--he ended up missing the party, but met up with me afterward. I'm learning to be on my own every now and then, which is a very interesting this to do. So I spent some time with friends while he went home.

I called before left to go to his place, but even so, he was nowhere to be found by the time I arrived. I checked his room and the common space for his shoes and the bag; neither were there, meaning that he was indeed out on a call. (The only reason to check is that on one occasion, he was in the room, but asleep in a pile of things on his bed and it only appeared that he was out on a call, if not for the bag on the floor.) I got some work done, and he ended up coming home around 2.

We went to bed at some point--I fell asleep in my day clothes and he woke me around 4 to get dressed for bed. He doesn't wear the radio to bed anymore, so things are significantly easier than when he did. The morning was uneventful.

Filler Post

Just to let the people who still look at this know that I'm not dead. State exam on Sunday--nervous but feeling okay. On a bit of a posting hiatus for the time being for a few reasons, but will be back here shortly.

Special Blog Update

Hi everyone!

Work finishes in two days and I am so excited. Going out with a bang--meaning that I am going to spend as much time sitting in the office or the library, reading things. Today's entry serves as a poke for those of you who read here for the EMS parts and not the "what crazy shenanigans are Mariah up to today?" parts. I'm not really and EMS blogger. I'm an EMT-B-school-graduate who's waiting impatiently to take her exams so she can play with all the other EMTs and not feel like so much of a whacker. If you're looking for serious EMS blogs, take a look.

A Day In The Life Of An Ambulance Driver
Probably my favorite EMS blog. Written by Louisiana NREMT-P/CCEMT-P Kelly Grayson, it's personal and very real. Frequent updates, ranging from funny work stories to EMS news to heart-wrenching entries to stories about his family (namely, his adorable daughter). I read this every day, sometimes going into past years to find more to read. He's also a columnist at EMS1, which I link to in my link box. He's published at least one book, which I'm in the process of borrowing a copy of. Even if you're not an EMT, you'll be able to find something that you can appreciate and relate to.

Siren Voices
This is some heavy stuff. Written by London EMT Spence Kennedy, there are days where I can't read it for fear of being covered by a little raincloud for the rest of the day. It's powefully well-written, and is very much isolated incidents often posted months after they occur. It reads more like a book of short anecdotes than a blog. Also, frequently updates.

Street Watch: Notes of a Paramedic
Finally, a novel I can read. Due to a variety of issues, I've been having difficulty reading longer works for a few years--but I had no difficulty with this. Written by Peter Canning, it is a mix of EMS blog and Paramedic novel Mortal Men. The (most recent?) blog entries are easily accessible in the side bar, and I recommend reading those first, because once you start the novel, it's difficult to stop. Mortal Men is the fictional account of area EMT Lee Jones, the stunning medic Troy Johnson, and the rest of the people at Capitol Ambulance. He posts chapters daily, each interesting in it's own way.

There are others that I've been told to read, but can't access on office computers, so they'll have to wait for later. In the meantime--if you don't already--go read these!

NREMT Apneic Pt Ventilation Simulator

So, calling it a "simulator" is a bit of a stretch, but I'm not sure what else to call it.

http://www.emt-national-training.com/bvm-practical/index.php

It's unclear as to what they want you to voice and what they don't (selecting mask size vs. assembling the BVM), but for a brief review, it's not bad. It can be done my clicking on the items or by typing instructions into the text box. I recommend trying both, just for kicks.

And it gives me something to do at work.

12 August, 2009. 8:21 AM.

I finished class (two weeks ago). Ignore the huge time gap--in spite of being done with class, I've still been busy, among other things.

Firstly, the night before class ended was ambulance night. I knew that Dan was going to be there on one of the trucks, but when we went outside to go to our assigned vehicle, I didn't expect to be assigned to his! The battery died, so we were sitting in the back of the ambulance, with no lights and certainly no AC. Howwever, that didn't stop us from getting a flashlight tour of the back, and it certainly didn't stop Dan from making jokes about Matt and I in front of my group. Being the attention whore that I am, I got a kick out of it. In a few words, we joked about getting the 'DEAD' triage tag for me to put on the doorknob of my room for certain situations. I was amused.

Flash to the next day! Exam time! I got a 100. The instructors were "not surprised" and did a little excited dance after they graded my exam. My comments sheet was all good things--I was very happy. Christine said that if I want to be an instructor, I should talk to her about getting into training. I'm definitely thinking about it--especially if BU comes to teach at Brandeis, which they should.

Went across the street to Sunset after with my classmates. Jesse and Brittany and I decided to start an EMS-themed bar, with drink sizes being No Neck, Short, Regular, and Tall. That was basically as far as we got. I left before the instructors came--needed to drive home and didn't want to fall asleep doing so.

So, I thought that not having class would make my life easier--wrong. I miss class. When I had it to look forward to, a bad day at work could end quickly. A few tears in the little park down Commonwealth and I'd go to FitRec and it wouldn't matter anymore. I could, strangely enough, be alone during lecture. I didn't have to interact with people.

Now, I go home, see my family (but lots of them are travelling), walk the dog, talk to Matt online, go to sleep. I know I've said this a million times, but work is killing me. I never used to have bad days like this--last night, for instance, I went to bed at 9:30 just because I wanted the day to end. I consider it a good day if I don't break down into a puddle during the day. And my family either doesn't care or doesn't understand. Like I'm making this up. Yes, I know we've all had bad summer jobs, I'm not saying that I'm the only one who's had this happen. But it's still made my significantly less happy. I feel like that should count for something.

Enough whining--I go back to school in 13 (!!!) days. I see Matt this weekend. I am done with this summer. I quit.

26 July, 2009. 5:21 PM.

I am exhausted. Constantly. I sleep less than I did in high school and way less than I do in college. I'm awake at 6 AM weekdays, and on weekends if I have class, anywhere from 6:30-8. I haven't seen my family or friends for more than 6 hours at a time since May. I see Matt when I can, which is about every 2 weeks.

But hell, this is great. I took my class practical exam today. Passed everything on first try except KED, and I know what I did wrong. Assessments were stressful but straightforward, and everything else was cake. I love CPR, by the way.

Tuesday we have emotional well being of the EMT-B and special operations. Wednesday is ambulance day and lifting and moving day. Thursday is final written exam.

This past Saturday was extrication day--play with damaged cars and practice getting people out. I was the first one KEDed and taken out--the bruises on my hips aside, it was fun. And really good motivation for me to not get into a car accident. After being KEDed three times in two days, I'm all set, thanks.

Going to lie down. FOREVER.

9 July, 2008. 11:26 AM.

At work now, taking a break and figured I would update whoever is still reading this.

Had exam 4 last night, on (get this): OB/GYN with a focus on childbirth, WMD/terrorism, poisoning, drug/alcohol use/abuse, allergic reactions, environmental emergencies, acute abdomen. Such an odd mix of things. Got a 95. Still amused at how I'm doing better in this than in all of my academic classes this past year.

Observation hours at the BI this friday, and hopefully Armstrong ride-alongs next weekend. Then class on Sunday, then the 25th is extrication and 26th is our practical. This will be over and I will have to find something to do with my weekday nights.

Work is still excruciatingly boring, and class is still making my days worth it.

I've lost contact with most everyone--this whole "not being home" thing is taking its toll. If you read this, drop me a line, let me know how you are, and if you're an area friend, let's make plans to hang out in August.

I'm a little displeased with how this blog is turning out--in the beginning, there were more stories and less "blog-type" entries. Might fix that once I start doing things again. At this point, there's nothing poetic or romantic to write about. Going from work to class to sleep doesn't lend itself to dramatic writing.

I miss Brandeis. I am, however, very glad that I took this course. I might have died by now. Boredom is definitely worse that not having time to sleep.

3 July, 2009. 12:12 AM.

Sorry for the lack of updates. Life is insane, as I expected. Work is soul-crushing and more motivation to become and EMT so that I don't have to do the same job again next year.

Class is going well--we did childbirth tonight. Might add pictures, the manikins (mannequins?) were pretty cool. Grade-wise I'm doing well.

Some people are idiots, and some people really shouldn't be in the class for other reasons.

I'm so tired. I'm going to bed. I'll make a real update sometime, I promise.

For anyone who's considering taking a course--Boston University's program is fantastic. I'll rave more when I'm conscious.

3 June, 2009. 10:56 PM.

I love class. I am excited to be there. After working 8 hours taking inventory, actually using my brain and learning something useful is fantastic. I still close my eyes and see bar codes and inventory labels, but that’s another story.

Our first exam was today, on Intro to EMS, Med/Legal, Anatomy, and Airways. I got a 98/100. Also, got to go home early because I finished my exam early. Sleep will follow soon, so soon.
We’re learning things that are legitimately interesting. I studied during lunch today, and it was a weird feeling—I haven’t really been invested in studying like this, ever. Maybe it’s just that I haven’t taken a multiple-choice exam since high school.

I have CPR this weekend (and the boy is visiting, a much-welcome luxury) and tomorrow we’re covering BSI and scene safety and protecting ourselves and our partners.

31 May, 2009. 5:16 PM.

Returned (many hours ago, before my mind decided to break down completely,) from our town’s Girl Scout Encampment weekend. I was the lifeguard. I was trained specifically for this event. I passed me training course, despite a few odds, and knew me stuff.

And I was terrified.

People were giving me their children and saying, “Here! Stick them in the water!”

It was the first time that I had even been entrusted with so many little lives. Now, I realize that in the grand scheme of things, this was not huge. I had, at the most, twelve girls in the water, with leaders spotting from the shore (council policy).

I had a little speech prepared for the girls, introducing myself, telling them the boundaries, the rules, how to call for help, what to do if the whistle is blown, and so on. But I had Daisies—kindergarteners—in the water. Sometimes, at the same time as 6th graders. Little people, big people, mixed together—and then boats—people were going out in boats, and they needed lifejackets, and they didn’t know how to put them on properly, and I had to do that, and leaders wanted to know if they could just have the lifejacket in the canoe with them—why would that be okay? If your craft tips over and you get hit on the head, you’re not going to be able to put on that lifejacket, you’re going to fill with water. And I’m the land guard. Am I going to get a kayak from the lodge, take it out, get you? By council policy, I don’t have to. My job is to watch the kids at the waterfront. But would I? I would try. So you, my leader friends, are going to put on the damn lifejacket and stop asking stupid questions.

The fear abated over the course of the day, except for the boating madness. The camp we were using had a wonderful backboard and rescue tubes, both of which I hoped to not have to use. Especially the board. I didn’t have anyone else trained in boarding with me—I suppose I would have maintained c-spine until EMS arrived and foregone the board altogether. I did, however, strap my sister to it to show her how it worked and what everything was for. I will be calling the council to let them know that I was impressed by their supplies for guarding. Not everywhere is so prepared.

On a slightly lesser note, I had to treat one injury the whole weekend—my own. I was sharpening s’more sticks (oh yes, I’m quite the good little Scout) and was telling one girl how to use a knife safely. Started to cut off a nub on one stick for her to use, and proceeded to slice my index finer open, about 1 in long, not too deep, on my serrated rescue knife. Ran through two campsites to mine, where I stopped the bleeding (took a bit longer than I expected, worried me a little) and bandaged it. Mostly a “dumb Mariah” story, but still.

And, not relevant to this weekend, but today I had a series of small breakdowns, the last of which ended with me looking at my EMT textbook and thinking, “How can I be expected to help other people if I’m such a disaster myself?” I won’t go into details about what my “disaster” is, because it’s irrelevant, but it’s an interesting question. I’ve been in an out of therapy for almost two years, for a variety of reasons—I’m not one to hide that. I’m not “mentally ill,” at least, I’m not labeled as such. I’m assuming that confidence will come with training.

26 May, 2009. 11:02 PM.

I just returned from my first EMT training class at Boston University. Terrified of parking and getting there on time, I left an hour and a half early. After much shouting and panicking madly, I got there. Found the room. Sat down. We began. Classroom filled, and then overfilled. There are close to 100 people in the class, so they split us into two rooms. Logistical issues were sorted out. Paperwork began. Immunization records (turns out that it’s okay that I’m not immune to Hep B), consent, waivers, things like that. Oh, the joys of being about to sign my own forms.

Real class started around 8:30 (class began at 6, goes until 10). Went over “What is EMS? What does it do? General overviews.” Textbooks and workbooks are on our desks. Verb tense is constantly changing. I played the EMS name game with Christine, one of our instructors, who apparently met Vince at some skills competition thing last year. Also, met a boy in Matt’s year, and asked him to be my partner.

So, the people in the class. ALL PRE-MED. I might be the only university student there who is not pre-med. There are a few “firefighter-wannabes” (to quote Matt), the police-equivalents (the instructors make fun of both groups), a few who have the TV illusion of EMS, and one who was referred to as “nasal Narcan guy,” because in the intros, he mentioned wanting to be able to administer it. I felt special because I didn't have to ask what it was. Thanks, Vince!

Real job starts next week, in the meantime, substitute teaching. Waking up at 6 or so in the morning and getting home around 11 = fun times.

Quote of the night: “[Individual] is taking all sorts of tactical EMS classes, where he’s learning to intubate himself in the dark while putting in an IV.” --Christine

17 May, 2009. 8:41 PM.

Commencement was today. Matt’s been on all of senior week, with the exception of two days, during which I took him home with me and we spent quality time together and ate not-Sherman food. It was quiet, mostly. One call, when he was not on call. Until Saturday, when there were a few more.

Last night, we were going to bed around 1:30 when to pager went off—he disappeared, I dreamed that it was 3:00 and he wasn’t back, he came back at 2:40, I was confused. We slept. He woke up at 6 so that he could go be on the commencement detail. I got up at 7:15, got dressed, went to mini-commencement, big commencement, and two more minis.

So, the BEMCo commencement detail is there not only to save lives, but to look good doing so. Class A uniforms for BEMCo are what regular uniforms are for ambulances—white shirt with badges, pants with many pockets and that little snap-thing to hold the shears in place. I stopped by and said hello to him and Dan and Paul and Kassie for a bit in between things.

After the detail was over, I went back to Matt’s room and when he got back from showering, he crashed for a few hours while I went to the creative arts mini. Also, note: Matt successfully showered not once, but twice while on call. And shaved (yay, no prickly on-call stubble)!

We’re done with my freshman year. Brandeis is closed to me until the fall. It was amazing. Posts this summer will most likely be on a weekly basis, and I predict them going from “Woohoo training is fantastic” to “Oh heck, why am I working full-time and training?”
Congrats to all those in the class of 2009!

8 May, 2009. 1:04 PM.

Going home tomorrow. Freshman year is over. Done. Pulled an A- in my crazy math class. This year was amazing.

So, Matt was on call last night. Call came in at one point, during which we both laughed, mostly due to the fact that the pager had been set to “play a cute little tune to let you know there is an emergency.” I left to go do things, he met up with a group of us later. We proceeded to read out synopses of R. Kelly’s “Trapped in the Closet” until about 4 in the morning.

Matt and I went back to his room, he worked for a while, might have fallen asleep on the floor, eventually made it over to the bed. Earlyish in the morning, I hear the pager going off—it’s faint, because he didn’t clip it to his collar like he usually does. I woke him up—we were both pretty exhausted and took a few seconds to get oriented. I went back to sleep and he came back an hour and a half later.

This was the first call that came in while we were both asleep. It’ll be a good thing to get used to now. It’s not horrible, just unsettling for a minute or so. But the real kicker is this: after Matt came back and went back to sleep, the fire alarm went off. I change into day clothes after asking if we can just stay there. As I’m leaving, I see that Matt is still in bed, curled up under the blanket. I step outside of his room and see uniformed people in the kitchen space, which is full of smoke and smells like burned something. Oh, the A3 kitchen.

I let Matt know and go outside, standing with a friend of mine. Soon after, I hear uneven footsteps and see Matt come down the stairs, secondary bag at his side, looking tired, for the obvious reasons. The alarm shut off, we went back inside and went on with our day.

I don’t want this year to be over. I’m packing my things and trying to use all of my dining points. I’m excited for the summer, though. I’m excited to start up again in the fall. To all of you in the area: talk to me (via more private communication) about getting together over the summer.

6 May, 2009. 12:46 PM.

Life is good, finals are over for me. Staying at Brandeis until Saturday.
Everyone’s flipping out about swine flu. BEMCo protocols are insane (from what I have heard, I didn’t get to read them) and a friend of mine is in quarantine. Yeah, life’s good. Everything should be alright soon.

So, quick anecdote. When I’m sick, my strategy to get better is as follows. Drink water. Problem fixed? If not, take ibuprofen. Fixed? If not, sleep. Fixed? If not, worry slightly more, repeat, call Matt. Fixed? If not, health center, BEMCo if it’s an emergency, etc. Explained this thought process to Vince, who said that he wished everyone were as smart. Mariah felt happy, and proceeded to take more ibuprofen. So delicious.

I suppose it’s time for a year-end wrap-up entry. Looking back, things have changed. But things are amazing. It’s the little things, mostly. Personal benchmark happiness thing: being able to celebrate a six-month anniversary (is a huge deal for a girl who spent her last 6-month anniversary in counseling). Also, moving past a variety of unpleasant experiences, with some semblance of grace. EMS-related reflection: understanding the EMS community a little bit more. My therapist here talks about how BEMCo is almost a familial unit, and I’m starting to see how that works. Being a BEMCo-in-law has been interesting.

Made ridiculous amounts of new friends. Therapist asked what I would rate this year, 1-10. 9.5, I said. Everything is very awesome.

Thank you all who read this! There might be a “Matt’s working Commencement” post and in three weeks, there will be a “Hooray, I am in training!” post, followed the next week by an “Oh no, I’m working full time and training! What is sleep?” post. Stay tuned!

6 May, 2009. 12:46 PM.

Life is good, finals are over for me. Staying at Brandeis until Saturday.
Everyone’s flipping out about swine flu. BEMCo protocols are insane (from what I have heard, I didn’t get to read them) and a friend of mine is in quarantine. Yeah, life’s good. Everything should be alright soon.

So, quick anecdote. When I’m sick, my strategy to get better is as follows. Drink water. Problem fixed? If not, take ibuprofen. Fixed? If not, sleep. Fixed? If not, worry slightly more, repeat, call Matt. Fixed? If not, health center, BEMCo if it’s an emergency, etc. Explained this thought process to Vince, who said that he wished everyone were as smart. Mariah felt happy, and proceeded to take more ibuprofen. So delicious.

I suppose it’s time for a year-end wrap-up entry. Looking back, things have changed. But things are amazing. It’s the little things, mostly. Personal benchmark happiness thing: being able to celebrate a six-month anniversary (is a huge deal for a girl who spent her last 6-month anniversary in counseling). Also, moving past a variety of unpleasant experiences, with some semblance of grace. EMS-related reflection: understanding the EMS community a little bit more. My therapist here talks about how BEMCo is almost a familial unit, and I’m starting to see how that works. Being a BEMCo-in-law has been interesting.

Made ridiculous amounts of new friends. Therapist asked what I would rate this year, 1-10. 9.5, I said. Everything is very awesome.

Thank you all who read this! There might be a “Matt’s working Commencement” post and in three weeks, there will be a “Hooray, I am in training!” post, followed the next week by an “Oh no, I’m working full time and training! What is sleep?” post. Stay tuned!

2 May, 2009. 11:15 AM.

Oh man, finals are evil. Have so much to do.

Got into a nice conversation with Vince yesterday about a variety of things. I thoroughly enjoy talking to him, and I’m hoping that I’ll be able to see him next year, since I think he’ll still be living around here. He’s a genuinely interesting person, and I like interesting people.

Kassie taught me how to take blood pressure yesterday, as well. It was not as difficult as I thought it would be, but it will take some practice before I feel comfortable doing it. I went over to see Matt after, and he had me practice on him, and pointed out the important fact that when you mess up, don’t say anything. The fact that I narrate much of my life out loud, especially when I’m under pressure, does not help with that.

“Oh, so that’s how it goes. Your cuff is different. Where do I put this? I’ll just rest it here. And…damn, missed the last number. Pump it up again and—okay, that seems right. How do I put this away?”

30 April, 2009. 1:41 PM.

Last night was highly enjoyable. Matt is now asleep on my bed, and has been since about 3:30 this morning. Is still somewhat sick. Coughing is going away but he's still tired a lot of the time. Secondary bag on the floor with the radio and sweatshirt and shoes. No calls yet. I’m very pleased with how “not a huge deal” shifts have become. I feel like it is no longer necessary to just write posts for the sake of OMG HE IS ON CALL. It’s become normal. I like it.

27 April, 2009. 8:58 AM.

Earlier this morning, when I should have been eating breakfast and getting ready for Lab final, I signed up for the EMT training at BU. Hooray! I will be working full time and then training in the evenings. I am very excited!

And here’s a thank you to Kassie and Vince, who helped me actually get around to training. I probably would have flailed around for another year, being indecisive, ended up training during the school year, and failed at everything.

Side note—going with Kassie to the BEMCo party this Wednesday. Matt is on call that night. This will be interesting, and awesome, I expect.

25 April, 2009. 4:50 PM.

So, I seem to have a sick EMT on my hands again. He’s not as sick as last time, but he’s coughing quite a bit and sleeping otherwise. He took a nap in my bed while I worked and went out, and then he worked while I played manhunt. Saw that there was a call at Heller—Waltham Fire only, though. Went over and played Viva Piñata instead of working, we went to sleep around 2. This was all last night.

Today, I had rehearsal (as always) and went back to his place around 1:15. He was still asleep, the orange tertiary bag still on the floor. No calls. He was sort of awake, and we went to Usdan for food. It’s always interesting being out around campus with him when he’s uniformed—people act differently when they see him like that. People hold doors, people pay more attention to that pale skinny boy walking by. But not to him, really—to the uniform, the bag, and the radio. I suppose I’ve learned to see past those things, and that’s why shifts are no big deal anymore.

Another utterly unproductive day—tried to sleep, might have, kept him from going home, it’s time for shift change now. Concert tonight. And two tomorrow. Homework and writing a minuet somewhere in there.

ALSO. I am planning on taking the EMT training course at Boston University this summer. It will be hell for my sleep schedule but what do I care? My parents are down with the idea and will hopefully help with tuition. I talked to Vince yesterday for a few minutes and he said that it’s a really good program and that one of the current supervisors trained there. I’m excited. More on this subject later.

On a completely different note—who read this? Not to beg for comments, but drop one and say hi so I know who you are!

24 April, 2009. 9:34 AM.

Yesterday was a sandwich day. Started out awesome, sucked, got incredibly awesome. Rachel (my sister) was visiting, so we threw a disc around and saw a scary Ollie the Owl costumed person. She left, I had a breakdown and a four hour rehearsal. Burnout happens to EMTs and musicians alike. Lost the ability to express emotion.

CUE AMAZINGNESS. Went back to campus, saw Freezepop live. Liz Enthusiasm signed my pants and I have a picture with her. ::fangirls:: Then, Matt and I went to Usdan for food and I had a minibreakdown but that was mostly brought on my exhaustion. Ran into Dan, who was on call for the evening.

The three of us chatted for a bit, Dan had me close my eyes and put my arms in front of me and walk heel to toe and I couldn’t do it, and Matt had to substantiate my claim that I wasn’t intoxicated. Not the first time I’ve been field-tested for intoxication when I was just overtired.

Matt and I were about to leave when Dan asked if we wanted a ride. In the primary vehicle. I may or may not have jumped up and down like a small child at the request. This sort of thing doesn’t happen very often, if ever. He used the remote start (gah so cool) and I got to ride shotgun (Matt told me not to touch any of the buttons) and we drove back down to Massell. Dan drove us into the quad and let us off at my building. Cue sleeping.

Matt has a shift tonight. Might bake with Dina and Jake and him. Might hang out with other friends too. Meh. I think he’s covering a shift next week, for Paul who has 3 or 4 in a row.
Time to do real work. As much as I love writing this, it’s not being graded.

20 April, 2009. 7:22 PM.

Best shift ever and it is over. Ran into Kassie and unnamed primary in Usdan and talked about all sorts of random EMS things. Talked with Kassie about someone we know from BEMCo who tends to be moody, and she joked that he was PMS-ing, which I then changed to EMS-ing. Yay for bad puns!

Went by Matt’s room later—he wasn’t answering my calls, so I wasn’t sure if he would even be there. He was, asleep, and had been since I left him that morning around 11:30. He’s getting sick again. Been sick most of this semester. I’m getting sick too, which sucks for having to rehearse or perform for five hours every day this week.

Matt went to shift change at 5, I got to Slosberg at 5 and then had to go to the Castle to get a book before class started in Slosberg at 5:10—I almost made it. However, shift change went really fast and I didn’t get to walk back with Matt. Meh.

Another shift this Friday. Again—really happy with how shifts are feeling now. It’s just become another fact of our existence and isn’t so much a novelty anymore.

In rehearsal now. Not singing for fear of losing voice. Tired. Posts becoming more terse. Too exhausted to be verbose.

20 April, 2009. 10:31 AM.

So far, this has been an incredibly pleasant shift. Matt and I got to talk last night after he got back from the call, and then left to go do work and I went to sleep. He told me about the new primary, apparently doing fine but worrying about some things and forgetting his pager in places.

Went to see Matt after Theory lab—had to play a nice game of “can you find the EMT in this picture?” He’s curled up in bed under a blanket surrounded by clothes that he still hasn’t put away from break. He’s completely out of it, so I’m not going to try to interact with him. Adorable, though.

I was telling someone last night that when I was watching him run to the call, I felt a sense of admiration—he’s going to do important things. He’ll tell me that they don’t save lives, and who am I to argue with someone who knows what they’re talking about, but their work is important.
Also, I’d totally love to hang out with today’s crew—I know all of them (not counting the supervisor) and they’re all very cool people. I can BS my way through conversations with EMTs fairly well. Or we could talk about normal people things. Pshh.

19 April, 2009. 11:46 PM.

First shift in months is going well, for both of us. He makes it through Mass and post-Mass hangout without any calls, and he and I actually get to have a conversation before he gets paged. He disappears to the call and I don’t remember when it was. It was a while ago. I told him to call after, but these things sometimes take a while. Oh, people in need of medical attention.

I’m actually incredibly pleased with how well I’m dealing with this one. We’ve fallen into a rhythm, I suppose. He warns me when he’s switching the pager back to sound from vibrate, and doesn’t do it just to mess with me anymore (he probably only did that once, anyways). We were at his place when the call came in, and it was a convenient reason for me to come back here and work (ha, work). I’m calm. I’m not freaking out. This is a good feeling.

I think that it might be a result of writing this. I’m not keeping it to myself, I’m not distracting myself from worry. I was scared to post these entries—I’m okay being vulnerable with people I know, people who I trust, but I don’t know who most of you reading this are. I’m saying, “Yes, I’m scared of these things sometimes. But here you go.”

I’ve found a new friend or two through this. That people actually read this and don’t find it crazy boring makes me very happy. Matt and Vince say that it’s a “unique perspective” on EMS (they both used that exact same wording).

I should go do real work now. Before that—take a look at the links on the side. There’s the BEMCo movie “State Your Emergency” (Matt’s in it and will hate me for pointing that out), Siren Voices (my favorite EMS blog), and a few others things that I’ll occasionally look at.

19 April, 2009. 4:55 PM.

Matt’s going to shift change now for what was supposed to be his third shift this month but is only his first. First shift was cancelled (Passover break) and he got Paul to cover the second so we could see Daniel’s orchestra. I think I mentioned that before. (Thank you, Paul.)

Nothing really interesting to say yet. It’s nice to see him in uniform because it’s kind of sexy. I told him this once, and he proceeded to explain that as far as uniforms go, it’s hardly one, just a t-shirt with the BEMCo logo and jeans. I proceeded to explain that when a woman says that your uniform is hot, you don’t complain.

18 April, 2009. 6:46 AM.

Paul covered Matt’s shift today—Matt and I are going to see Daniel’s orchestra at Symphony Hall. At 10:00 AM. 7:49 commuter rail, anyone? After going to bed at 3:30, it seems crazy. People on call usually get more sleep than this. There will be naps.

Ran into Kassie (and by that I mean “went to her room and talked for a bit”) and she told me that over break, she was at a funeral when a man coded. A medic appeared out of nowhere and someone was a nurse practitioner. The medic started CPR while she did breaths. Her cousin tried to pull her away from the scene and afterward Kassie “bitched her out.”

She said that CPR in real life is nothing like practice CPR. The air coming out of his mouth made it look like he was aspirating, he was greyer than she ever thought possible, and although she wasn’t doing compressions, I imagine that it feels a lot different to do them on someone not made of foam and that thing that clicks when you’ve gone far enough.

The man opened his eyes and took a breath. Color came back immediately. Said, “I feel much better now.”

I had something to add to the end of this entry, but I’ve completely forgotten. Yay for early mornings. On a side note that I can remember, went to visit friends at Clark and WPI. Clark had an article about how CU-EMS should get funding from Public Safety and not Student Activities money and Carlos told me that WPI EMS get Segways. Matt is not sure why that would be useful. Carlos’s friend pointed out that they can go 15 mph. I don’t know.

Gah. There was something else. I wish I could remember. Oh well. It was probably just something all silly and wait. I need to stop typing before this goes in bad directions.
Oh! I remember. Found a screenplay I wrote as a middle schooler. It is about a girl who is 16 or 17 and is an EMT. It is titled, so, so artistically, EMTeen. It was performed for the first and only time last night. Although apparently it’s more HAZMATeen, as I realized at a recent glance I made at it. Oh middle school. You made us create so many bad things.

This Is Not An Entry.

Waiting for facts to be checked on my last entry--it wasn't my story to tell, so I wanted to make sure it was correct.

In the meantime: Engrish. Using Babelfish, translate a passage English to Japanese back to English. And here are results, one from me ranting about my life, one from a more technical description (Intro to Clinical Assessment narrative).

Think that the cirque it does with sphere, to weekend would like to sleep. The lesson of class and voice, choir of the laboratory and theory and the room, the operation to Lown to the class of Vince (as for last one, week before him who has been grasped the cause cerium which is cancelled is, business hour for EMT the student it is classified), two many hours of the rehearsal passes the circular 1 day of time of operation, 1 hour cirques does, UTO doing it goes in the companion. Sexual intercourse, simply.

The class of second Vince was today in. Study meeting of the orgasm which is the part of V week almost, but that it was completely let escape. Today changed spiritual state (AMS) day. For the second time, I let escape the thing proper introduction which is classified entirely, all it was middle and it jumped. Front shock (I to possess somewhere word) with to be 1 women with my note, because (as for Vince as for me you have known, who where already is shock in us and he has already known that you ask, to I, you lecture temporarily as “non-EMT” perhaps the method of saying in me. However me knowing correct answer happily. It can point). In addition it should ask what kind of question, whether perhaps the suicide of glucometer (it is learned,) and it was registered, it was hypoglycemic from the fact that “the highest” it was who, depends on the sickness and does not eat and 11 person. Sufficiently you understand me thing both when it has happened, it gave the fact that the baby-sitter of the girl diabetes characteristic for several years is done.

Mildly entertaining, at least to me. This won't happen much, I'm trying to keep this on topic.

It's interesting, some of the comments I've recieved off of the site from people who read this. I've had people say that it makes them sad to read, that they don't want me 'hurting like this.' If that's happening, it's only becuase I still write like a middle schooler. Sure, things aren't awesome at the moment, but that is completely independent of my involvement with EMS. Sure, I angst about things sometimes. I worry about Matt sometimes, but more often than not, it's for reasons other than "oh no he is on call." It's what this blog is about, but this isn't my entire life. This is a snippet that ignores the late nights we have by choice and the adventures we have for pleasure. And even though I don't necessarily need your well-wishes, thanks. [cliche] It's nice to know that people care [/cliche]

25 March, 2009. 11:00 PM.

Want to curl up in a ball and sleep until the weekend. Had full day of classes, voice lessons, theory plus lab, hour of Chamber Choir, run to Lown to Vince’s class (last one, previous week had been cancelled due to him holding a CE and office hours for EMT class students), run back down for two more hours of rehearsal, curl up for an hour, go to Chum’s to perform with UTO. Fuck, simply.

Vince’s class was upstairs in Lown, and I walked in, once again expecting way more people. It’s Vince and Paul. We got handouts! We’re doing trauma today. By the time I walked in, I had already decided that I was going to be late to rehearsal. We learned about burping wounds and that the abdomen bleeds internally easily and he explained the numbers in the blood pressure when I asked. Left a little after seven, instead of ten minutes before—rehearsal can wait. Very sad that class is over forever. There were only three. ::sad face::

It was a taste of what I don’t hear about from Matt. On-campus calls are rarely to the caliber that Vince’s examples were. I’m still ambivalent about training. Not only is the training apparently difficult as hell (seeing my friends train—not fun), but the things he tells us—I just don’t know if I could handle them.

Oh well. Mother called tonight, and my first words to her were, “I want to sleep forever.” Find myself saying it a lot lately. Mental stability is still there, mostly. Matt’s keeping me sane. And safe.

(This entry marks the end of older entries. All entries following this one will be posted in real-time. Whoa. This also means that updates will be more sporadic.)

15 March, 2009. 2:10 AM.

Oh my. Pachanga. Enough said.

Meh, elaboration. So Matt was on the standby crew for BEMCo for Pachanga tonight. For anyone not part of the Brandeis community reading this, Pachanga is a twice-yearly dance party known for being filled with drunken people. I didn’t go last semester, but decided to go this time. Whoosh.

I didn’t drink at all prior to going (and I’m not writing this statement as an under 21 individual trying to protect herself), but many (most?) people going did. Arrived at 10:15 ish, Brandeis and Waltham police were already there. Went through a metal detector (only had my keys). No drinks inside. There were suited people for security around the doors that were emergency exits only.

I saw Matt at the beginning of the night. He told me to have fun, and that I had better not see him for a while. I’m not supposed to let bad things happen to me when he’ll have to deal with it. I went into Levin and was there for the better part of three hours, leaving at one. I saw him once filling out paperwork and once running to get something. Nothing really to report, despite this long entry.

Nothing was happening when I was leaving, so I figured it was safe to say goodbye, despite the fact that I couldn’t hear much that he said to me.

The other night, I was asleep and Matt wrote a note to me about these entries, mostly about confidentiality things that I needed to fix, but also about why I write this. He explained that there’s really no danger as an EMT here—I feel like I knew that, but needed someone to say it before I could believe it. He said that the biggest danger to his person was that he would trip wile running to a call. When I asked Vince for consent to post these entries, he mentioned talking to a professor about emotional regulation in healthcare workers. I suppose that that’s my main concern. I’m not worried that Matt’s going to get hurt, but that something that happens in the field will hit him in a way we never expected. He’s fairly good (read: the master) at compartmentalizing. In spite of this, I think I’m worrying less, which is nice, for both of us.

I feel silly for writing this sometimes. I feel like I’m complaining, even though I’m not—I wouldn’t have my life any other way (and I’m happier than I’ve been in years and yes, this entry just went here). At this point, I don’t really care if people read this, or if they get anything out of it. I’m recording these things so that I remember them. If you’re with me, it’s all the better.

10 March, 2009. 7:28 PM.

Phil and I went to dinner in Sherman and stumbled upon Kassie, who was on call. We got food and sat down with her, and she and I tossed back and forth stories of “this is a dream I had after I was certified as an EMT/lifeguard.” It’s interesting that even though we’re completely different types of rescuers(?), there are common experiences. We talked about the BEMCo uniform and random little things.

The three of us were finishing up dinner when her pager went off. She had an open mug-thing of milk which could not be easily transported to the call, so Phil and I took her things and that back to her room after dinner. Phil and I discussed this blog for a bit—it’s good to know that at least one person cares what I’m writing on here.

11 March, 2009. 10:08 PM.

Second of Vince’s classes was today. Missed most of the orgasm workshop that was part of V-week, but it was totally worth it. Today was altered mental status (AMS) day. Once again, due to class I missed the introduction to everything and jumped in the middle of it all. We had one woman in pre-stroke (I have the words in my notes somewhere) and someone who had already had a stroke (Vince asked me how to tell, addressing me as “non-EMT” at one point, possibly because he already knows that I know. Makes me happy to know the right answer, though.). Also one person who was hypoglycemic from not eating due to illness and one who was possibly suicidal (learned what questions to ask) and registered “High” on the glucometer. Babysitting a diabetic girl for a few years gave me enough to understand what was happening in both of these situations.

Oh, the first one. Drug addict. Track marks, some other telling sign, collapsed outside some place with alcohol. Learned about Narcan, and by that, how to induce projectile vomiting. Thanks!

Class the week before had been canceled because Vince had work. Walking from Slosberg to Lown in the dark without having had dinner to find a “class cancelled” sign on the door is not pleasant. =/

28 February, 2009. 3:05 AM.

Went to Game Knight for the first time tonight (last night? Friday night, regardless). Game Knight is a group of students who get together on Fridays and play games in the lounge. One of these games is a little something known as Lap Tag. Basically, there are two circles of people, the outer circle sits with their legs apart and the inner circle sits in between their legs. Someone from the outer circle does not have anyone in his or her lap, and calls two names from the inside. Those people have to fight like hell against the people who are sitting behind them to get to the person who called their name. It’s fun, but in the past, has been known to cause injuries. Minor injuries, mostly rugburn and the like.

We had played maybe seven or eight rounds when a friend of mine was called. Everything went normally until, as emergencies so often occur, in a fraction of a second, he was on the floor, holding his leg, which was bulging in a place that it shouldn’t have been. Everyone crowded around him and someone yelled to call BEMCo. I took my phone to the lobby and called from there, because there’s no service in the lounge. Even in the lobby, I had trouble getting out the location clearly, so it took longer than it should have. I stood out in the rain and held the door open for the tertiary, and as the primary and secondary arrived. Everyone in the room had split off into their own little groups, now that it was clear the he was doing well—general consensus was that his leg cramped and that he panicked. Ten minutes later, everything was back to normal.

Calliope, who is also dating a BEMCo person (still need to find the best way to word this), told me afterwards that I did the right thing by calling. I was worried that it wasn’t necessary, started wondering what Matt would have said. But coming from Calliope, who is in the same position that I am, I felt alright.

As for Matt, he’s at the NCEMSF (National Collegiate EMS Foundation) conference this weekend. I don’t know much about what went on—Vince gave a talk about Acute Alcohol Intoxication and it was incredibly well-received. Matt couldn’t even get into the room to hear it. Any other information I have is definitely confidential, but can be summed up with the overarching statement that EMS personnel know how to have a good time.

25 February, 2009. 8:10 PM.

So, I’ve started taking “Introduction to Clinical Assessment” with Vincent Storie. It’s a Communiversity class (a not for credit class taught by a student here) and Vince is a medic and a primary on BEMCo. I was ridiculously excited to take this class and then over break, found out that it was changed from Tuesdays to Wednesdays, so I have to show up 45 minutes late and do the whole Slosberg-Lown hike at 6:45 at night. It’s worth it, though.

So I book it out of Chamber Choir and go up to Lown, expecting to awkwardly walk into a classroom full of people, only to awkwardly walk into a classroom with three students and Vince. He’s going over checking circulation, and I’m pleased at how much I understand. Training as a lifeguard has its benefits. Then we went into scenarios. There are two EMTs in the class and one other non-EMT—I stood back on the first one, letting the others ask questions, mostly because I had no idea what to do. Vince had Steve (one of the EMTs) run the next one, and I realized that I do not know how to take a pulse at the wrist (because in lifeguard classes everyone was unconscious. A shortcoming in the program? Perhaps).

Vince had me run the next call, saying it was a possible stroke. I did my awkward introduction (Hi, I’m Mariah, I’m your EMT, what’s your name, what’s wrong?) and asked the first set of questions (when did this start, what were you doing, have you felt this before?). The other two who were working with me started to take over, but I remembered to ask Vince to smile—he had said a possible stroke, and I remembered from The Top Ten Questions You’re Better Off Not Asking not to ask someone to show you their teeth, but to ask them to smile. Afterwards, Vince was going over the call and what we should have done, etc, and he specifically said that asking him to smile was a good move. It was my little gold star for the day.

Afterwards, he told me that if I don’t understand anything, to ask. I said that I knew a decent amount from lifeguarding and also from Matt telling me things, and he laughed and said that EMTs love to talk about EMS. We somehow got on the topic of how I can no longer hear a microwave going off without thinking it’s a pager, and he agreed that it happened to him too.

Class ended up going until 7:30, which meant that I was there for a half hour more than I expected to, and also that I completely missed the evening Ash Wednesday Mass. Oh well, I went to the morning one, and ICA was totally worth missing Mass for.

20 February, 2009. 10:48 AM

Having just returned from Rome, I am finally well-rested after my 12 hours of sleep last night. My typing is still suffering—this entry is taking forever to become coherent.

So, there are a LOT of emergency vehicles in Rome. There are three types of police (polizia municipale, carabinieri, and guardia di finanza) and I swear that I saw at least as many types of ambulances. And a blood transport vehicle with a cute caricature of blood on it. Go figure. It was nice inasmuch as the weird European sirens sound so different and almost pleasant compared to the sirens we have here, that they didn’t set off my acquired “Oshitwhere’stheambulance” reaction. Until later in the trip. But they also make very frequent calls, so it’s not as out of the ordinary to hear sirens/see ambulances as it is here (being Brandeis or my Ashland home in the woods).

I was showing my family my trip photos and had to apologize for all of the emergency vehicles. I never used to care.

Also, Vatican ambulances are pretty. Possibly filled with holy water. And are basically there to get people out of the Vatican because their medical service is limited to the “First Aid” room outside of St. Peter’s.

3 February, 2009. 12:47 AM.

Went to the library to drop off Parsifal—yay, course reserves. Passed the tertiary on my way. Started muttering to self, “Not my problem, not my problem.” Slowly trying to desensitize myself. Not sure how it will work. Must actively try not to react to beeping sounds and must not look around for lights when I hear sirens. Also, changing verb tenses. Gah. Too tired to function. Not sure how Matt runs to calls with those boots on—they are heavy.

30 January, 2009. 10:05 AM.

This entry should have been written last night, but we fell asleep somewhat unintentionally. Matt’s shift is over, and he’s not on for all of February. I have mixed feelings about it—I don’t know how to word this correctly, but I know that he (likes? Enjoys? Is good at?) being on call, so February might be boring in that respect. However, it works out nicely for me—I can calm down for a few weeks and not worry about the fact that our time is not our own. This will most likely be the last entry for a while. In other news, I’m disappearing to Rome for break! There will be pictures—lots of pictures.

28 January, 2009. 11:58 PM.

Matt’s on call again, for the fourth time in two weeks. But he’s not on for all of February, so things will be a lot calmer then. It’s icy as all hell outside—I slipped outside his building and dragged my soaking wet and slightly injured self inside, rather unhappily. I’m worried for a few reasons—that there will be a lot of calls, due to the crazy weather, and that he’ll get hurt running to a call. He tells me not to worry, but let’s face it—I can’t really help it.

I ask if he wants to stay over, and he says that he’s not sleeping over while on call anymore. He says that I’m jumpy enough as it is—I don’t need his pager waking me up in the middle of the night making it worse. I don’t care about my heart racing whenever someone gets a text message in class, but I’ll probably sleep better without having to worry about making sure he can get out of bed quickly or that I haven’t knocked his radio off of his belt.

We meet up a few hours later, go back to my room, talk for a while, and around midnight he leaves, having “tempted fate enough.” I decide that it’s high time I put all my meds in one place—if anything ever did happen to me, in the current state my room is in, the EMTs would have to go through about a dozen bottles labeled as Levoxyl before they found anything besides spare change and dinosaur-shaped sprinkles. Also, should stop putting Tylenol and ibuprofen in the container labeled only for the latter. When Matt asks for Tylenol and I give him two, he asks how much each is, I say I don’t know, he looks on the bottle and sees that it doesn’t match—yeah. We’re both hoping that I never get BEMCo’d because that would be an unnecessary complication for everyone.

26 January, 2009. 2:15 AM.

Matt’s been off shift for a while now—we went to church and hung out with people after. It’s too late to go back to Massell, so I put my stuff in his room and get ready to sleep there. It’s a few minutes before he joins me, and when he does, it’s obvious that something is wrong. I’m curled up against the window sill, and the only response I can make to the question of “Are you okay?” is shaking my head. He turns me over and makes me look at him, wanting to know what’s wrong. I don’t know. I never know anymore. I feel restless and on edge, like there’s electricity in my body that won’t let me stop moving. I feel like there’s something wrong, or about to be.

This was the first shift I spent with him where he’s gotten more than one call—it’s shocking just how much that messes with you. EMS has to be ready to drop everything and do their jobs, and we have to be ready to lose them. In the past, I’ve had to prepare myself for someone to leave my life completely, and to be honest, that was easier than knowing that Matt could disappear at a moment’s notice. I’ve come to loathe the sound of the voice over the radio.

He apologizes. I tell him there’s nothing to apologize for. This isn’t his fault. It comes with the territory. I just need to get used to this. I close my eyes and try to relax—I keep seeing ambulances. They’re not even AMR. Why would I be seeing Armstrong ambulances?

It’s a while before I calm down enough to sleep.

25 January, 2009. 5:16 PM.

Part 4 of 4

I’m in Up The Octave rehearsal, and my time is my own now. I ran into Leni, who was the tertiary this shift. I can feel myself calming down. It’s a good feeling. I was watching Leni throughout the concert I was at, knowing that if she got up to leave suddenly, Matt would be off too. She didn’t. I enjoyed the performance. We have Mass in a few hours. Relaxation will occur.

25 January, 2009. 12:36 PM.

Part 3 of 4

I go to breakfast, expecting Matt to be back sometime soon after. But he doesn’t come back, this time. He’s in his room, and apparently this is a BEMCo record of sorts. Twelve minutes from dispatch to write-up. I’m impressed. I finish my homework and clean my room while he gets some work done.

I head over to the Village around noon—he’s in his room, working on physics, and his roommate’s asleep. He takes his antibiotics and we go into the lounge to cuddle because his bed is covered in things. I’m exhausted, and he pets my head while explaining how a lockdown works (N95 respirators filter out small particles). I’m not looking forward to this week of classes—because he’s not sick anymore, I can’t even make up reasons to spend the night with him. A siren sounds from South Street, and an Armstrong ambulance drives by and we both smile with relief. I’m being silly and tired when his pager goes off for real.

He grabs his bag and heads out the door, realizing that he doesn’t have his phone. He runs off, and I run into a friend of his roommate on the path. The guy says that apparently someone’s sick, and I say that this is the third call in 24 hours, he says, “They must be really sick,” and I explain that it’s the third person, we don’t know about this individual case, and he says, “Well, he’s running pretty fast” and I say “He’s emergency medicine. He has to run.”

I see Matt running back towards us, smiling and saying that he’ll explain later. I figure he’s running to Ziv where there is a primary vehicle. Sure enough, when I get to the intersection with loop road, I hear the siren and see the BEMCo Expedition (I think that’s what it is, could be an Explorer, Google search results all look the same) driving by. Back in my dorm, I can hear non-BEMCo sirens, but I can’t see AMR or Waltham Fire yet. The call’s not far away, so I’d see them if they came.

It’s the small things that make me happy now—a half-hour here, an unripe mango there. The fact that he’s not as sick as he was earlier this week. Seeing him asleep on my couch. Even asleep on the floor outside my room.

I wonder if I’m cut out for this. I still think I’d want to be an EMT, but I just don’t know if--meh. I could do this. I think it’s scary to watch from the outside, but I could do it. I have plenty of time to be indecisive.

25 January, 2009. 9:23 AM.

Part 2 of 4

After Matt’s call last night, I decided to go to the Village to find him, figuring he would go to his home to sleep. I get there, and I’m having a nice conversation with his roommate when my phone goes off—Matt’s outside my room, wondering if I’m inside. The journey of the Magi, I suppose. Sort of…

I go back to my building, passing the same BranPo car for the second time and find him on the floor outside my room, slumped over, his bag beside him. He’s somewhat awake. I apologize and kneel down beside him, about to kiss him when he reminds me that I might not want to get too close. To hell with BSI. I kiss him, regardless.

We go into my room, where Dina is sleeping. Matt asks about the mango that he and I had been about to share when he was paged. I get that and my knife and we go into the hall, sitting on the carpet with a paper bowl to put the skin into. I start to peel the mango with the seatbelt cutting tool on my rescue tool—I haven’t made more than three cuts before I pull back, dropping the knife and exclaiming that I’ve cut myself. Matt groans, mumbling “You’re an idiot” repeatedly while opening his bag and pulling out a band-aid and handing it to me. I rinse of my bleeding index finger and put the band-aid on (too tight, as I later figured out, and he would mock me for).

He took over the mango-opening process, and we discovered that the mango was intensely unripe. Ah well, we proceeded. The CA from the 3A hall walked out of the girl’s bathroom and stopped, seeing me putting a band-aid on my finger, him kneeling on the carpet with his bag open. There were some confused questions, I said, “He’s my boyfriend and I’m a idiot,” she said something asking again if it was an emergency, and then after I tried to explain again that, yes, a BEMCo person is, no it’s not an emergency, she said something to the extent of “Sorry, I saw you with your life-bag and a thought something was wrong.”

She left, and Matt and I exchanged amused glances and a few wisecracks about the word “life-bag.” “Oh no,” he said after she had gone, “She knows what we keep in here now.”
Another couple passed later, asking what we were doing. I said, “Eating a mango” and proceeded to get a few more comments about how seeing Matt in uniform with the bag makes this apparently look like the scene of an emergency. Everyone should see State Your Emergency, simply so that they understand that if this had been a call, there would have been a) more blood, b) more people, c) more shiny lights, and d) he would have been wearing gloves, at the very least. Thank you, BSI.

We attempt to eat the mango and fail miserably—it is too unripe. We go inside, and I put him to bed on the couch, under the blanket that Taylor gave us for Christmas. I go get ready for bed, filling up a water bottle for Matt (who is supposed to be drinking 3 liters a day. That is a lot of clear liquid). I return no more than five minutes later and he is completely asleep. Not even me climbing into bed over him wakes him up.

I dream that night that I go to Mattapoisett to see him, and I’ve forgotten most of that dream. I woke up and fell back to sleep—dreamed that he came to visit me in Ashland. He was on call in Ashland, and while we were at church, he was paged, and called from the church phone (?) that he couldn’t make it, while a trailer ran over people’s cars in the parking lot.

I woke up, and he and I exchanged a few words, but he was mostly asleep. And then the pager goes off. The radio goes on, the blanket goes off, I curl up out of the way on the couch. He sounds confused—the call seems to be over. He asks me if I heard it go off before—I didn’t, although maybe in my dream—I didn’t know. He gets the call to go to the police station, leaving his gloves here. He’ll be back, and I’ll leave the door unlocked this time.

25 January, 2009. 12:11 AM.

Part 1 of 4

(Note: This entry was done at the time and date indicated, but through a fault in saving, I lost it. This is what I remember of that entry.)

Matt knew that he was on call today, so we don’t have any more surprises like Wednesday. And he’s on penicillin now, and although he’s still tired, he’s doing a lot better than he was.

His shift goes uneventfully until midnight. Jake and Dina are in the room with us when he gets the call—female, not feeling well. He leaves, and I periodically go to the window to see what’s going on. He’s first on the scene, but that’s no surprise. The primary vehicle and supervisor car show up, followed by a long period of nothing visibly happening. AMR shows up, and some boys passing by open up the building for them. I can see the crew taking her down the stairs through the building windows, I can see that Matt’s at the head of the stair chair, I see them put her into the ambulance. More waiting. AMR leaves, everyone packs up and leaves. The vehicles leave the quad and I get back to working.

It’s sad that I lost this entry—it was actually the first one that I wrote. Meh. The point still stands.

24 January, 2009. 1:50 AM.

Friends from home came by tonight—Shaun and his brother Ryan. Matt and I showed them the campus, stumbled upon baby raccoons and a naked party in the Castle, and tromped through the snow to show them Action Justice Louis Brandeis. A call at Usen went out just as they were leaving, somewhere between one and two in the morning. I walked them out to Shaun’s car, and swore aloud upon seeing AMR and Waltham Fire pulling in near H-lot. Shaun asked why I cared so much, and I said that I had developed an unfortunate emotional attachment to the EMS on campus.

Back at my room, I tell Matt that brief anecdote, and he looks at me and says, “Don’t.”

“Why?” I ask.

“EMS,” he says, looking me in the eyes, “Every marriage suffers.”

It’s these things that he says that I don’t necessarily want to hear.

22 January, 2009. 10:00PM.

Matt and I are in bed when I hear a siren. He moves to see, and I tell him to lie back down. I look outside, until I see Watham Fire drive by, going away from the school. I tell him, and he goes back to sleep. It’s things like this that I never would have seen myself doing.

I go to my 10:00 class on Thursday, and my 11:00. On my way to my 11:00 class, I see the two patrol cars for BranPo as well as a green car that seems to be the supervisor car parked near Hassenfeld. I panic. It’s unpleasant. The feeling of “Ohshit I hope it’s not a call, he’s sick, I don’t want him to have to go, he should be resting” is not a good feeling to have when one is trying to get through Proofs.

I call at noon to see how Greek went, and I find out that he managed to get a few more hours of sleep, at the expense of not going to class. The rest of his shift in uneventful. No more calls. He clocks out at 5 and after my 5:00 class, I come by and hang out in the lounge while he showers. Our time belongs to us again. Until Saturday.

21 January, 2009 6:32 PM.

I step into Matt’s room, glancing first at his bed and second at his desk, where he is standing with a silly smile on his face. “Guess what I forgot?”

The radio and pager clipped to his belt, the secondary bag on the floor behind his chair, and the BEMCo logo on his shirt all clearly indicate the answer. I groan softly and move into the room, pulling him into a hug and gently tugging him toward the bed. I do my quick check to make sure that I don’t end up with a radio to the stomach and position myself accordingly on top of him. We cuddle for a bit—he has a meeting at 7 and so did I. We go off to our meetings, and I meet up with a friend at BORG. I look out the window and see what looks like him running down the hill towards the Village. I send a text to wish him luck—an unnecessary text, since I later learned that I was imaging that it was him. He shows up at my meeting, an event which is followed by much squealing, jumping out of my seat, and hugging him in front of everyone. Cue Bernie making a medic comment and Matt correcting him that in fact, he is not a medic. Until I met Matt, I, like most people, used paramedic and EMT interchangeably, when in reality, it’s the square/rectangle problem.

Matt started getting sick last night—nothing too bad, a sore throat that proceeded to get progressively worse. We were up for much of the night as the sore throat turned to coughing. I left him in my bed while I went to class, and found him later, definitely not doing well. Normally I wouldn’t worry so much with him on, but by the time his shift started, he was definitely sick. At some point, he mentioned the desire to tell his next call, most likely an intoxicated midyear, “Shut up, I’m sicker than you are,” if he hadn’t just attended a meeting of professionalism.

Kass and I are going to Usdan for food, and Matt decides to join us. It’s cold out, and he’s declined the jacket for the shift. We walk quickly and find a table in the dining hall, away from the doors. He puts his bag down goes off to find something to drink while I go find dinner. When I return, he’s got some carrot juice and I have a cookie and a veggie sub. Kass and I eat, Matt has some of my cookie, and then Kass and I go to a corner of the room to talk about a few things—as our conversation winds down, I can see that Matt is collapsed on the table, occasionally picking up his head. I can see dark circles under his eyes.

I tell Kass that it’s time I take my sick EMT back to his room. We walk silently and quickly—back in his room, we put our things on the floor and get in bed. He’s shivering, still, and I do my best to keep him warm. His temperature’s up to 101 by now. I don’t remember if we fell asleep or not, but I remember being awake around 10:30 when his pager goes off. He jumps out of bed, swearing, somewhat tangled in the comforter. I curl up out of the way on the bed as he gets his things together and runs out. The call is not an intoxicated midyear. I get my things together and leave soon after.

Back at my building, I meet up with Dina and Jake, and we talk about housing for next semester. It’s nice to have something to distract me while he’s on call. Around 12:30 he calls, that he tried to call sooner—doesn’t matter. I head over with my things for the night. I think he’s in bed when I get there. He’s still really sick, clearly, although, as he pointed out later, he was fine when he got the call. Adrenaline? Professionalism? Meh.

We go to bed together—he’s shivering for parts of the night, but then takes his sweatshirt off later. He feels warm to me the whole time. When we wake up in the morning, he tells me that he feels a bit better, inasmuch as he’s stopped seeing things in Arabic.

Start Here.

This blog was only supposed to tell a simple story. I had a few nights that fit together well that I wanted to write about, so I wrote down a few entries and worked on a little blurb to tie them all together. And then one entry led to another, and another, and I ended up with a folder filled with experiences and stories and people. It’s been two months and I’m still finding new things to write about (at least, I hope I am. They always feel new to me).

A quick note about how I got into this: I spent my time around EMS. My boyfriend, Matt, is a Mass. EMT-B and a member of Brandeis Emergency Medical Corps (BEMCo). My roommate, Dina, is currently training as an EMT-B. I’m taking a class this semester with Vince, a medic on BEMCo. A girl on my hall, the girlfriend of a friend—the list goes on. Sure, it’s not out of the ordinary. So why do I feel the need to write about all this?

Judith Butler wrote in “Undoing Gender” that we as humans are “undone by each other.” I didn’t understand what she meant until I found myself walking home from the Village at nine in the morning, counting down the hours until Matt’s shift ended. I thought back over the past few months and the past twenty-four hours in particular. I’m not going to pretend that I haven’t changed—that I haven’t been changed, more importantly.

A year ago, I never would have imagined that I would end up walking back and forth between the Village and Massell, whispering prayers to God as well as the “trauma gods” that I hear Matt cursing at before he leaves for a call. I never would have foreseen myself jumping at the sound of a text message alert or a microwave going off somewhere on the floor. I can’t even make toast at home without my heart racing. I never would have imagined looking to the window at the sound of a siren and looking to see which ambulance it is.

This introductory entry has been sitting in my hard drive for months, with things being added and taken away and I’m finally saying, “Here it is.” It’s not perfect, but nothing in here is perfect. Most things are just a stream of consciousness, written at two in the morning or nine at night. Sometimes I come off as a girl complaining that she’s alone at some hour of the day—that’s not my intent. I’m trying to tell a story—I wouldn’t have my life any other way.

Feel free to post comments or ask me questions. Say hello. Thank you.

A word about updates: I have about twenty entries that need to be posted, and there will undoubtedly be more to come. Until I am through posting old entries, this will update daily. After that, it will update whenever I have something to say.