Stuff I`d Wish They Taught Me in Class Part 3: Patience

Anyone who knows me, or has known me longer than three days, knows I'm not the most patient person in the world. I am a very Type A-, go-get-it-done-now personality. I'm the type to order something online and if it doesn't show up the day it's supposed to, start to fret about where it could be, if it got delivered to the wrong place, whatever....

Early in my career I was the same way about EMS. I wanted all the "big" calls right away. I wanted to have war stories so I could sit around with everyone else, laughing and reliving moments where we were scared, horrified, laughing so hard we couldn't stand and every moment in between. Yet, after each shift, when the next crew came in and everyone stood around rehashing tales from yesteryears, all I could offer up was, "Well, I got a refusal on a car accident. I even got to put a large Band-Aid on her head from where she got a cut."

I smiled sheepishly, trying to be proud of what was, at that time, the coolest thing I had done so far. I thought I was 'hot stuff' taking a refusal while wearing a fire helmet and extrication gloves.

No one else thought so.

So I did what any rookie would do. I started wishing for the "good" calls. I wanted the three-car pileup with extrication. I wanted the cardiac arrest that ended in a save. I wanted to deliver a baby in the ambulance. I wanted the calls my fellow partners talked about as if they were nothing. To me, they were my inspiration. I daydreamed about the day when I was the one responsible for saving a life. I wanted to hear someone say, "Hey, Shao! Tell 'em about the time you delivered the baby in the truck," or, "I want to hear about that wreck where it took over an hour for extrication!"

But no, I had my Band-Aid story and nothing else. Each shift seemed to drag on. No lives were saved, but lots of people got a ride to the hospital. I started to become content with the idea that I'd never have a war story unless anyone wanted to hear about the day I took two nuns to the ED after they slipped and fell on ice.

Then I got my "good call."

Even now, without rehashing the details, it still hurts me to think about it. I wasn't ready for it at all, the emotional baggage that came with that type of call, the firestorm of emotions that brewed every time someone asked me about it. I didn't tell my tale with the same gusto that everyone else did because I couldn't see past the nearly crippling emotions that came with it.

I got what I wanted. But in hindsight, I wish I would've just wished for more "Band-Aid refusals."

Patience is not something that can be taught in class. We are all eager as EMTs and medics to get out there and do all the fun procedures, and have our own set of war stories to tell. Patience is something that's learned after the fact, after we have that crippling moment of wishing that someone else had to go through it.

I wish I could have been happy with what I had, where I was at and so forth. I didn't need the war story to make me a better provider. The knowledge and experience gained by those who are better prepared for those moments is what makes a better provider. I wish I had the patience at the time to just be happy with what I had, knowing "good calls" would come in time, and all I had to do was just wait.

I've stopped wishing for any type of call in particular. I'm content with the stories I have. I don't need any new ones right now. Don't get me wrong though, every time an OB call goes out, in the back of my mind, I still hope that it's my day to get a pink or blue stork pin.

Have fun and be safe.

Shao Trommashere completed paramedic class in 2007 after working as an EMT since 2002 in the Northeast corner of the United States. She also has a blog called Looking Through A Pair of Pink Handled Trauma Shears.