Why Chimpanzees Answer Phones...

July 27, 2008 - Sunday
Why I think chimpanzees answer phones...(warning: this one is lengthy)

For those of you in EMS, I offer this simple story as an homage to the glorious goverment society full of red tape that we are all victims of...I mean, party to...
Recently, I began the exhaustive effort of becomming a Level II Instructor. I have been an EMS Instructor for the last 3 years and in that arena of my career, I have been fairly successful. I spent a year teaching AMLS at the Durham Fire Department, and I spent 3 years co-coordinating the EMS program at Duke University. Now, I have put up with, I mean, instructed hundreds of students. I loved most of them when they werent trying to get away with shit. I have dealt with attendance problems, problem students, trouble-makers, holier-than-thou-ers, cheaters, stalkers, sleepers, and the list goes on and on...I am fairly adept at uncovering someone's bullshit excuses for far less than altruistic motives. I can politely listen and nod my head, all the while thinking to myself: "You have GOT to be kidding...you cant come up with anything better than that??" I've even had students ask me to reschedule the final exam so they could all traipse down to a kegger on the quad, underage. Or: "Please will you cancel class on Thursday? I know that one of the Duke ER attendings is guest-lecturing, but Duke is playing UNC." I never budged, but I did respectfully listen to their whining.

I said all that to preface the experience I am about to share with you. I am NOT gullible. Furthermore, I would like to think that I am neither stupid, nor naive. Sometimes, admittedly, I get a little punchy, but its more the "window-licker" variety, not the "frosted-blonde" archetype.

Let me give a little background for those not in the field: For one to teach EMT classes, they must possess an instructor credential issued by the NC state office of EMS. For one to receive said credential, one must be a provider at the level they wish to teach for at least 3 years. They must also be endorsed and have 100 hours of volunteer teaching experience. There is a mildly annoying process to achieve this credential but it basically allows you to circumvent the whole "Masters degree" to teach at the post-secondary level.

So now the story begins: (I apologize profusely for the long-winded background)... I went to work on Thursday and printed out the 12, yes 12 page application to become a Level II Instructor. As it was printing, I was thinking to myself: "Good Lord! Did I inadvertently begin printing someone's manuscript?" The next thought was that I would have to print and sign my name on said manuscript 147 times because once per page would just be too easy. Perhaps it's a game the state office plays: to see how many times they can commit acts of redundancy to see who really is serious about achieving the aforementioned credential. Or perhaps they enjoy the thought of someone slumped over a desk, surrounded by 12 sheets of UNNUMBERED application, silently weeping at "Print Applicant Name" number 145 as they try to put pen to paper with shaky hands. Bunch of masochists, they are.

After retrieving my novel from the printer, I actually begin to read the requirements for the Level II Instructor position. Now, 3 years ago, the only requirements were that you were a Level I Instructor for 2 years, and had a degree. But alas, it could not be that easy...
Here are the updated requirements:

1. Current EMS credential at level of application or above.
2. 2 years of teaching experience as a Level I Instructor.
3. EMS Education Administration course
4. Associate Degree or Higher
5. Level II EMS Instructor Workshop

Now, this is the "Highlights magazine" version of requirements because people in general are, how should I term this? Umm, not perceptive. I believe that to be diplomatic enough for the purposes of this communique. There are, in fact, a few sheets of the manuscript which outline the requirements in a much more detailed format with instructions to see paragraph 4, subsection H for the Department of Homeland Security cavity search. I was more than concerned when I noticed that a fat-fingered, 400 lb Swedish woman named 'Helga' would be performing this test. (This is in the fine-print for those of you who don't read it…) Also listed were: a request for a blood-draw, a full psychological profile to be performed by an FBI agent in Wyoming who only comes to North Carolina on the 3rd Tuesday of November in a leap year, proof of possession of a commercial fisherman's captain's license, Rorschach test results, a gynecological exam, and a billiards tournament trophy (only first or second place accepted).

My first question was, of course: What the hell is an EMS administration course? My supervisor, who is already a Level II was as perplexed as I. I called our Training Officer with no luck. So I decided to call the State Office of EMS. Surely, since they listed this course as a requirement, they would be able to give me details, right? Perhaps there is some naivete lurking in the deep recesses of my psyche after all…

I spoke with a…well-intentioned young man who actually spent quite a bit of time on the phone with me answering all of my obviously stupid questions. He hesitated a bit when the stupid question about the administration course was raised and then put me on hold because he too, had NO IDEA what I was talking about. Informing him that it was listed in bold print on the front of the form did nothing to spark memories on his behalf about the institution of this now very elusive administration course. After being on hold for some time, he returned to tell me that he didn't know what was involved in the course, but that at EM Today (the state conference in Greensboro), the State had contracted a company to come in and present materials similar to what was required in this administration course that he was unfamiliar with. Anyone still following this? Its quite comical in its idiocy… He assured me that he would call me back to let me know if this contracted course (which is 4 months away) would meet the requirements of the course that I obviously need because the manuscript says so.

I then decided to be proactive and call the regional EMS office to see if perhaps, they could confuse me further. I spoke to a lady there who advised me that the community college in Jacksonville was putting on a conference the first week in August and she gave me the contact number of the course coordinator there. To further confound things, (by now, I am really dwelling on the cavity search and not paying attention to much else…), the man I am supposed to call has a female name (Amie) and I am worried that I will say something stupid, like: "Yes ma'am" when I get him on the phone. I was assured that he would register me in the class and then all I would have to do was show up.

I call Amie, who advises me that I have to call the Continuing Education Division of the Community College and explain to them that I wish to be enrolled in the EMS administration course. Then, as is my nature, I have to further confuse things:
I ask Amie: "Am I fee-exempt from the course?" Now, usually, someone who takes a continuing education course and is in the employ of a rescue agency in NC gets 'free learnin' in the community college system.
The response I got: "Ahhh….fee….what?"

And then I was forced to repeat myself, but I refused to change the structure of my sentence because being a college graduate, he should've understood me just fine. For the record, I had to ask him 3 times before clarity thundered into that noggin of his. And for those of you hanging on the cliffs of wanton longing, YES, I was fee-exempt.

So I call the Con-Ed department. A small melee and several hold sessions ensue as the women of the department struggle to understand which class it is that I want to take, why they can't find it and: "By the way," one of them asks me, "what is EMS?"
I would like to sidebar here that at this point, I was seriously considering gouging my eyeball out with a rusty spoon to dull the pain of the stark stupidity I was encountering. Then I considered nasally intubating myself but quickly dismissed it because it would force me to put down the phone and at least if I gouged out my eye, I could do that one-handed. I was definitely beginning to understand the combination of high-powered rifles and college clock towers.

Back to the story: The ladies that lunch in the Con-Ed department gave me the generalized speech. "Please go to the college's website. On the main page, you'll click on quick links, then go to the Continuing Education Department webpage. From there, you need to click on the link that takes you to the Forestry Department of Alaska webpage, which will direct you to the international Ping-Pong Association membership page, click on the data form tab and please don't click on the data form entry tab, as that will reroute you to Jenna Jameson's pleasure site. Once you click on the data form tab, you will be redirected to the I Love Cheese homepage (this actually exists) where you can download the application and fax it back to us. Which I did, 4 times. Apparently, in the desire to utterly piss off and deter all future Level II EMS Instructors from actually filling out a registration form because its so hard to find, the powers-that-be in the Con-Ed department forgot make sure the fax machine was working. But at least I now have a class to go to, even if I cant get registered…

During all of this insidiousness, I received a phone call from the well-intentioned fellow at the State advising me that the conference being put-on in 4 months in Greensboro that they were spending a small fortune on, did NOT, in fact, meet the educational requirements of the EMS Administration course. Instead of determining why they were wasting tax-payers money, I decided to let it go...

The only thing I have left to do is an Educational and Technical Scope of Practice, which my supervisor has offered to complete for me. Although, I don't quite understand why I have to prove to the state that I am both a good instructor and a capable Paramedic… I just navigated the I LOVE CHEESE homepage for chrissakes and consented to Helga's disgusting fetishes to get where I want professionally. Isn't that enough??? Though, kudos to my supervisor for saving me the torturous hell of asking someone from administration to perform my scopes of practice…I might have brought my rusty spoon in that case.

Now all that's left is to call Wilson Tech to get my college transcripts. If agencies were roller-coasters, the State Office of EMS would be the Tea-Cups at Disney World and Wilson Tech would be The Freefall at Six Flags. You haven't seen a bona-fide clusterfuck until you've gotten on the phone with Wilson Tech. Ahhh, another maze to tackle on Monday….

Woman Be Strong...

So, here I sit, as is usual for me: alone in the house, listening to the dark, vocal stylings of one, Will Hoge. At present he is singing "Woman Be Strong" and I am introspectively tumbling around inside my head. Please bear with me, as I have fallen victim to my own rambling nature tonight.

I can often be found sitting on the couch pontificating on the proverbial meaning of life. "What does it all mean?" or, better still: "Where am I going?" Two very grandiose ideas that I am no closer to understanding though I have spent countless hours dedicated to that subject matter. I feel as if I were floating in the empty. No definitive current in one direction or another, just aimlessly floating without a landing strip to stop every once in awhile.

Life feels very surreal to me. I get up. I go places. I do things. But I wonder: "Is this all there is?" I find myself wanting more. Not in a materialistic sense, but more in a social/emotional way. Though my profession is the least predictable of professions, I feel a monotony in it. And it is of my own doing, as I have worked to simplify my life to the point of being largely uninvolved in working altogether. I want to DO more to help people. Granted, there is a huge opportunity to help people in my line of work. I know that there are people walking around today that would otherwise be dead had I not been there. I am a good Paramedic and I have worked really hard to get where I am. But, I still find myself wanting. My favorite calls are the ones where I feel I have emotionally helped someone. I know I have helped someone when I have eased the suffering in their mind. The body is relatively easy to fix, but the mind...it is a conundrum of jumbling thoughts and memories and feelings.

I know I have been the way I am my entire life. I consistenly lock myself inside my head and float in that empty. I can usually be found there when one of life's hard knocks has whalluped me in the back of the head and sent me sprawling. I have been there for over a year now. I value the time that I have had floating there to learn many intricate things about my personality and who I am and what I want, but I have yet to figure out who I want to be.

Now, literally speaking, I know who I want to be. I want to be the person that other people seek out for advice, not because I necessarily give great advice, but because I can empathize. I want to be the person that changes the world one person at a time by infecting everyone I meet with niceties and engaging conversation that normally wouldnt occur with the rampantly running apathy in todays society.

I think I seek outwardly what I am lacking inwardly. Since my separation, I have felt somewhat apathetic. SO many emotions have usurped my proverbial heart, that I have been left vacant in my empathy for others. I know there are bigger problems out there and sometimes, I just can't bring myself to care about them. It is perhaps my greatest fear: to become apathetic to the suffering of others.

I recently had a discussion with a friend and I was telling him about the horrors of the job. That they are not, in fact, the decapitations, dismemberments and "stinkers". It is the look you see in a childs eye on Christmas morning when youve arrived at their house, a poor replacement for Santa Clause, because they just witnessed Daddy beat the hell out of Mommy in front of the Christmas tree. It is a look of age and a plea for mercy to "please make this memory go away so Christmas isnt ruined for the rest of my life." You give of yourself to these people who need hope and solace and in doing so, lose a little part of yourself. This friend of mine said that I should keep my professional distance, medicine is, after all, a business. I recoiled. I feel that if losing that little piece of myself helps anyone survive those kinds of horrors, then its well worth the loss. Or, perhaps, that is the justification for knowing that there is no professional distance in a situation like that.

The only "give" I have left in me is the "give" at the job. I feel I cannot abandon the people that call on me in their hour of need and so, at a price, I ignore myself.

On my last interview, I was asked to tell the interviewers who I was as a person and I honestly didnt know what to say. I settled for: "I'm getting a divorce, and that leads to reevaluation. When I figure it out, I'll let you know."

I strive everyday to do something nice for one person. Something I dont have to do but something that enriches someones life in some way. In trying to do that, I retain the hope of the person I wish to be inside. I, for some insane reason, feel like there is a wildly spinning clock controlling my life. Like I dont have the time to accomplish the things I want for myself. I have deduced that this feeling of constraint and a rushed hurriedness to "live" stems from a decision to start over. My life had a direction when I was married. My "fairytale" (HA!) was at the "The End, and they lived happily ever after" stage...and my happily ever after became separation and embittered feelings of insecurity. Perhaps I feel rushed at having to find, nurture and live all over again. My life died and I have mourned it sufficiently enough to start over. Now is the time I emerge from the black, empty I have created to comfort me and shine.

But I feel as if I have an appointment to get to and I am standing at a bend in the road with 5 routes, like the tines of forks, splitting in plethora of directions. Which one do I choose and will that path be the path of enlightenment, grace and love? Who will I become?

And as for what I want for myself, I choose true love. I choose to continue to hope that it exists, that I will find it and I will not settle for less until I do. I will not let the cynicism of the world overtake me and I will not let my fear of that pain be a barrier in my journey.

I dont have to become ensconced in the societal norm to live fully. I will be who I want to be, whoever that is. Woman, Be Strong.

Oh, the places you'll go...

So, yesterday was my first shift with Duplin County EMS. I bounced out of bed at 0400 with vigor and enthusiam (actually, I rolled out with head-fuzz and cotton-mouth), and jumped in the shower. I had responsibly spent several hours the night before grocery shopping and preparing my food for the following tour. That may sound insignificant to all of you, but all I had in the refrigerator was some exceptionally outdated milk. (I have no one to impress here, hence the bachelor lifestyle..) I again, responsibly went to bed at 2200 hours with the expectation of staying up all day and providing a helluva first impression. I am NOTHING, if not professional, geez, anyone who knows me knows that.

I spend 20 lazy minutes trying to decide if I am really awake at such an ungodly hour, if this is really hot water pouring down my back and wouldnt it be an amazing invention if someone could figure out how to quick-brew and serve coffee in the shower. Mostly these thoughts came out in monosyllabic grunts: hot...water....coffee....rinse hair....need...caffeine....NOW! But as is my nature, and my routine, I like to be clean and dressed BEFORE I drink coffee, unless I have nowhere to be and then I leisurely head over to the coffee pot first thing. Because cobwebs infest themselves in my head overnight, I am commonly ditzy and slack-jawed in the early mornings. I generally take an hour to get ready but its because I have to figure out where things like my toothbrush are (its always behind the sink), or whether or not I want to wear white socks today (they are all white). I have a transient case of the "umbles" in the morning: stumble, mumble, tumble, fumble and grumble.

Finally, at 0500, I depart from my beautiful cat-house of a home and head for the metropolitan-mecca that some people refer to as Wallace. It takes me 1 hour and 40 minutes, not to mention a phone-call to a very sleepy Derrick for directions because the TO and I obviously werent on the same page when we talked about how to get to station 2. G-d Bless you Dammit, (thats Derricks nickname because of his initials and his propensity to piss people off) and I love you.

I arrive. I meet my FTO and we spend a liesurely couple hours in the bay smoking cigarettes and discussing EMS. Because medics normally have Alpha personalities, we can usually make conversation. I had, by now, had 2 cups of coffee and was back to my overly-verbose dialogue. We ran a call around 1100 for an elderly diabetic with a sugar of 25. I think someone told Amanda that I was NEW, period. And though the three of us fumbled over each other a little bit, everything got done. See, in Brunswick, with several of my previous partners, I was used to taking control and monopolizing the conversation. I like to be entertaining and crack jokes so the family remains calm. Amanda likes to take control too, but I think thats mostly just due to confidence and a dominant personality and nothing to do with thinking that I suck. Because, I dont, in fact, suck. ;)

We drive on. We restock. We meet my supervisor. And this man, by all definitions, should not be wearing a white shirt. He is COOL. He is engaging. He is helpful and funny and he calls me sweetie. He is not an asshole, or a spiteful, vindictive, spineless, jellyfish of a whiteshirt that I have come to expect when working for the government. They are a special breed, if you have not had the pleasure. They can be nose to nose with their prey, while all the while figuring out the best way to dispose of the filleted carcass. This man, though, is like Steve Berry. I had not heard one bad thing about him prior to our first meeting and I now understand why. I can tell you this, he broke down my I-Hate-White-Shirt-Walls in less than an hour. I have, since Durham, been VERY wary around administration, but Rob is just a medic, that happens to have a different colored shirt and can get me shit when I need it. I am so excited to have a supervisor that I respect. He has a plethora of experiences in EMS that make it easy to glean knowledge and solicit advice. Ahhhh, but I was comfortable. And hey, its only taken 8 years!

I rode with Rob for a few hours, hitting all of the stations, meeting my shift and shootin the shit, as it were. Duplin county is rural and most of the folks are country, but they all have stellar personalities and were quick to engage me in conversation. They werent standoffish and there was no air of superiority.
I made it back to Station 2 around 1900 and did absolutely nothing but eat dinner with the Dusty and Ashley, the medic 7 crew.

My coffee and vitamins lost their power to sustain me around 2330 and despite one canceled call, I was able to sleep, in a real bed, until 0630 this morning.
I must say, being a city girl, I was a little scared initially about what I was getting myself into, for crying out loud, you can smell pig-shit when you cross the county line from Pender into Duplin. But yesterday was a pleasant surprise for me and I am so excited to get up at 0400 on Tuesday...at least until the alarm goes off...