25 September 2006
"The Nature of the Beast"
Okay, so it has been a REALLY long time since I decided to put something down on paper, or in this case, pixels. I guess it is because working out in the country, there really isn't a whole lot to share as far as runs that poise merit. But, I thought that I would try to start this up again as per a request from one of my favorite friends (this is for you Melanie) and see what happens.
So....here goes, let's start the fall season of "Life as a Paramedic"
Music choice for this entry "Going Up to the Country" by Canned Heat
There are several things that I have learned about rural EMS. One, travel. Going ANYWHERE usually requires a nap and a bathroom break somewhere along the trip, the average travelling speed in the country is roughly warp 3.9, and roads are not marked, they are described by land marks. (i.e. take a right at Murphy's barn and head down to the cattle fence and turn right.) This is great...if you are the one who owns the barn or they are your cows. For those of us who are imported, it is a crap shoot. I mean, even GPS on a computer displays "good luck".
Next, the general mentality of the country folk as it implies to EMS. People in the country really ARE a lot friendlier than the average suburban folk that most of us encounter. But for some reason under the wierd equinox that overshadows the realm of the farm folk, they think that paramedic, such as myself, are just as homegrown as they are and have absolutely very little to no real world expirience. Maybe it is the fact that growing up in a sparsely populated area, where everyone knows everyone else, that an outsider has no clue what it is like to live in the country. News flash....I don't NEED to know. A cut in the city is the same as it is in the barn. A broken leg is still a broken leg whether it is in a shop or a silo. C'mon people, cut me a little slack here.
Finally, as I mentioned up in the last paragraph, everyone knows everyone else out here. You know, in the city, when you call 9-1-1, the questions consist of "What is the problem?", "Is he/she breathing?", and "What is the address?" In the country, it consist of, "Where are you at?". "How are the kids?" How is your mom doing?" "What is the nearest cross road?" and "That was a great pie, can I get the recipie?" I can usually get to the house which is 10 miles away before the dispatcher hangs up with the neighbor of her brother's wife's sister's third cousin's roomate's daughter who shared a fair booth in FHA. Whatever happened to name, rank, and serial number?
Then there is the "X" factor as I like to call it. These are the "jolly volleys" or your volunteer firefighters. There are three departments where I work. Two out of the three are as good if not better, than most full time, union clad departments that grace teh bigger cities. The other...well.....
The phrase "a monkey fucking a football" comes to mind.
I am gonna leave it at that for now...but I am sure that you will hear more about it in the coming weeks.
This is just a small taste of what you are in store for my future entries (yes...there will be more). But for now, I just wanted to touch base with you all and let you know that I am back.
Rounding Third and Heading Home,