So, what’s a girl to do with an EMT certification? Jump into her school’s volunteer corps, of course! I competed at BU’s Yankauer Games with Brandeis (we were pretty awesome) and took my first shift on my 19th birthday. My first call came in during Music History, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t miss anything of consequence.
I’ve taken six shifts and six calls since November. I TA the EMT class at Brandeis (taught by BU) with other BEMCo people and the BU instructors who I was taught by. I really like what I’m doing.
I’m not really here to talk about medicine. It’ll probably end up that way at some point, but right now, I just want to talk about the experience. And I do apologize for dropping off of here for so long—long story short, some people were concerned about the fact that some secondary’s girlfriend was all of a sudden blogging about BEMCo very enthusiastically, that she was going to be an EMT, that she might not know what she was doing. I was warned on my first call, “This doesn’t go in the blog,” but other than that, it’s not an issue anymore.
I try to not to enthuse too much about this, but I’m completely smitten with volunteering here. For those 24 hours when I’m on call, I’m actually a somewhat useful member of society. I’m trying not to end up filling this post with phrases like “being a part of something bigger than me” and “feeling important,” because that’s not really what it’s about. It’s about our patients and what we’re doing for them in that moment. Some of them won’t remember us—most of them won’t. It’s not really us that they’re seeing—I’m not there as a student, as a musician, not even as a female, most of the time. I am my rank and my uniform.
Maybe it’s just from being new, but if I could be on call all the time, I would be. I feel silly when I talk about it to Matt, and I feel misunderstood when I talk about it with my family. I don’t really mind, though.
Also, not to self: I ought to start using 24 hour time on these. (Funny story though: not everyone uses 24 hour, so in class, a student asked if by “16:00-17:00” a professor meant “6:00-7:00” and the professor said in the “No, you moron” voice, “No, I mean 16:00-17:00” and some kind student explained to the first one exactly what the difference was.)
Showing posts with label rambling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rambling. Show all posts
Friday, March 5, 2010
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
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!
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!
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!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
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.
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.
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.
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.
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