It’s been a while since I posted anything of substance, and for that I apologize. So much has happened since I put any real effort into this blog—I’ll try to start where I left off.
I completed my training with Boston University last August, with a 100 on my final written exam and only having to redo the KED for the practical (BU practical exams go like this: you have the whole day to pass, you have unlimited repeats of stations, but you cannot do them with the same instructor who failed you).
After training ended, I found myself with 12+ hours a week of extra which I had no idea what to do with. I don’t know if previous posts conveyed this accurately, but my job was terrible. It paid well, and I got to spend time with my Dad, but it was mind-numbing and my coworkers were frustrating to no end. I loved the two months in which, after a long day of working (or pretending to work, as I was sometimes told to do), I would meet my Dad in the lobby, we would go to the car, and I would drive him to Kenmore so he could get the train home and I would drive the rest of the way to BU. I loved being able to just sink into the material and forget that the next day would bring the same boring nine hours that today did. I sat in the front, right in front of the instructor, so I didn’t have to put up with the other students too often. I would go home, enjoying the half-hour of aloneness on my drive back, make lunch and dinner for the next day, talk to Matt and my parents, and go to sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Fall semester started beautifully and busily. My practical exam was in the beginning of September—Matt was my patient, for which I am very grateful. Because my partner disappeared from the face of the earth, only to resurface the morning of the exam, I drove Matt and I to BU for the exam. We went from 8 until 1 or 2. I didn’t have to redo any stations, which left me panicking that I had messed up assessment (because I thought I gave Albuterol to a cardiac patient accidentally) and something else and had failed and would never be an EMT. Fortunately, Matt and I have been together long enough for him to know how to talk me down from slippery slopes such as that, and we drove through Boston to go to lunch. The rest of the afternoon involved falling asleep on the Commons with Matt, having my sister call and tell me that my Mom had been taken by Boston EMS to the BI (they were doing a charity walk with my godmother) and that I should meet them there. We drove through Red Sox traffic to the hospital, where Matt waited in the car, while I went into the ER. Long story short, the day finally ended, we all went home, Mom was fine, and I really just wanted to go to sleep so that the day could be over.
Time passed, Dan showed me where I could check to see if I had passed my practical without waiting for the card in the mail, I continued with my semester until one morning, as I watched Trauma on my computer, I went to check the website. That day, it gave me the option to schedule an exam—I had passed my practical. Much relieved calling to Matt, Dan, and my family, I went to find a computer with Internet Explorer to schedule the exam. Mid October. I wasn’t concerned. I read over my class notes and braved the Orange line to find the exam site. I took a half an hour, and pulled 90/100. After royally failing to use the Orange line properly, I made it back to North Station, got myself an ice cream of accomplishment, and went home.
Damn, this is going to be long. Well, here we are. I’m an EMT.
Friday, February 12, 2010
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