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.

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!

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!

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.

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]

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.