It's not what you think. I promise.
If you don't know me, and have happened across this site because you are interested, amused, or curious about the lives of paramedics, you may be disappointed.
We don't run around in cool T-shirts with funny sayings with our stethoscope draped fashionably around our necks. We aren't in some sorted love affair with young, beautiful resident doctors studying to become ED attendings (most of us). We don't grab people from the clutches of doom and bring them back from the light only to be honored at some prestigious black-tie dinner. We don't all have flowing manes that smell like mountain streams with manicured hands and sip Starbucks while we contemplate life's important philosophical questions. And, most importantly, there's no cool music in the background and we don't walk in slow motion as we approach some gnarly call.
We sit in cramped ambulances, in 7-11 parking lots. Our feet on the dash while the stock AM/FM radio crackles out the latest John Mayer song from the two oval speakers in the front doors. The 5 presets, that change everyday secondary to the different crews that spend 10 hours a day of their lives in the constantly idling ambulance, are continually punched due to constantly dodging the latest pop song being played repeatedly on every station. Ashlee Simpson, again!
The diesel engine runs 20 hours a day, the seats have softened and sank to the point you feel like you could rest your chin on your knees when you're sitting and staring through the reminents of green, bug goo. You don't touch anywhere below the seats and, if by some unfortunate happenstance, something you're eating touches anything in the ambulance, or touches anything that touches the ambulance, it's trash. Trash, which normally, lies between your seat and the large console between you and your partner with all the bells and whistles.
Our shirts get untucked, we sweat, our shoes are scuffed and not everyone shaves everyday, men and women. People give us dirty looks, people give us the finger, people try to run us off the road, people think since we're sitting in some public parking lot we are their to answer any questions they may have on their minds, medical or not.
And finally, although we have great knowledge of the city, people believe we are their very own, live and in person, Mapquest.com.
So, if you're still curious read on. Check back often. Because, even though it's not like you see on TV, you are guaranteed to be intrigued, amused, saddened, stressed, grossed out, and amazed at some the things I do and people I see. This is what it's really like. This is my life. The life of a Paramedic for the City and County in the Rocky Mountains. In beautiful Colorado.
Truth is stranger than fiction, believe me.
We don't run around in cool T-shirts with funny sayings with our stethoscope draped fashionably around our necks. We aren't in some sorted love affair with young, beautiful resident doctors studying to become ED attendings (most of us). We don't grab people from the clutches of doom and bring them back from the light only to be honored at some prestigious black-tie dinner. We don't all have flowing manes that smell like mountain streams with manicured hands and sip Starbucks while we contemplate life's important philosophical questions. And, most importantly, there's no cool music in the background and we don't walk in slow motion as we approach some gnarly call.
We sit in cramped ambulances, in 7-11 parking lots. Our feet on the dash while the stock AM/FM radio crackles out the latest John Mayer song from the two oval speakers in the front doors. The 5 presets, that change everyday secondary to the different crews that spend 10 hours a day of their lives in the constantly idling ambulance, are continually punched due to constantly dodging the latest pop song being played repeatedly on every station. Ashlee Simpson, again!
The diesel engine runs 20 hours a day, the seats have softened and sank to the point you feel like you could rest your chin on your knees when you're sitting and staring through the reminents of green, bug goo. You don't touch anywhere below the seats and, if by some unfortunate happenstance, something you're eating touches anything in the ambulance, or touches anything that touches the ambulance, it's trash. Trash, which normally, lies between your seat and the large console between you and your partner with all the bells and whistles.
Our shirts get untucked, we sweat, our shoes are scuffed and not everyone shaves everyday, men and women. People give us dirty looks, people give us the finger, people try to run us off the road, people think since we're sitting in some public parking lot we are their to answer any questions they may have on their minds, medical or not.
And finally, although we have great knowledge of the city, people believe we are their very own, live and in person, Mapquest.com.
So, if you're still curious read on. Check back often. Because, even though it's not like you see on TV, you are guaranteed to be intrigued, amused, saddened, stressed, grossed out, and amazed at some the things I do and people I see. This is what it's really like. This is my life. The life of a Paramedic for the City and County in the Rocky Mountains. In beautiful Colorado.
Truth is stranger than fiction, believe me.
Comments
you manage to make the ordinary seem extraordinary.
Colorado has something for which they ought to be thankful.
Good luck.