Saturday, October 29, 2011

Paramedichron #9

Making Me Crazy, This iPad

Sung to the tune of Killing Me Softly With His Song, by Roberta Flack
Reacquaint yo'seff with Roberta's sound here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DtW29oTp5cE&feature=related


Jabbing the screen with my finger,
Keeping my life deep inside,
Making me crazy, this iPad,
Making me crazy...
This iPad
Holding my whole life a hostage
Making me crazy...
This iPad


I saw the advertisements;
I know the Apple Store.
But when it was handed to me
I expected more.
And there it was, this new toy:
The answer to our prayers


Stabbing the screen with my finger
Hoping my life's still inside
Making me crazy, this iPad
Making me crazy...
This iPad
Holding my whole life at gun point
Making me crazy...
This iPad


I felt a rush of panic,
was scared - a little bit.
I felt set up to fail
with Apple's piece of shit.
I prayed the Lord to take me
or smite this damned tablet!


Poking the screen with my finger
I stored my life deep inside
Making me crazy, this iPad
Making me crazy...
This iPad
I've got my whole life on that thing
Driving me crazy...
This iPad!


I think that if you knew me
You'd see it isn't fair.
The absent keyboard threw me,
and there's no harddrive there!
And all my tests are on it -
And all my fucking books...


Hitting the screen with my forehead
I'm doomed - my life's locked inside
Making me crazy, this iPad
Making me crazy...
This iPad
I placed my trust in that damned thing
Driving me crazy...
This iPad!


Oh, oh oh , la la la etc etc etc.


Tapping the screen with my finger
What's going on deep inside?
Making me crazy, the iPad
Making me crazy...
This iPad
We should have all got an Android
Driving me crazy...
This iPad!


I was touching the screen
Yeah, it was smashing my life
Making me crazy - this iPad
I'm going crazy...
This iPad!
Holding my whole life at gun point
Driving me crazy
This iPad!

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Paramedichron #8



P.M.T. Washout

PMT is the TLA (three letter acronym) for Paramedic Training at HMC)
(Sung to the tune of "Beauty School Dropout" from the musical Grease)
If you forgot the tune

Your story hard to hear,
We still can smell your fear.
Don't know how to feel since they took away your smock!
Your future's so unclear now,
What's left of your career now?
Can't even make a payment on your truck!

MAs and Nurses: (La lalala lalala lalala...)

P.M.T. Washout,
No intubation count for you.
P.M.T. Washout,
Killed the manikin with your tube!
Well at least you could have taken time, to disinfect your hands,
After having your department spend more than a hundred grand!

Brother start packing (brother start packing)
Why are you sitting on you ass?
You took a whacking (you took a whacking)
You know you're not the first half-fast!

If you drove on out to Central, you could spend your own money.
Hand in your name tag and your iPad, E M T

P.M.T. Washout (P.M.T. Washout)
Hanging around the classroom door.
P.M.T. Washout (P.M.T. Washout)
You don't have the code any more!

Well they handed you an eighteen gauge,
Didn't know when to stop trying,
And your patients couldn't answer you - when they were busy dying!

Just say "Whatever" (Whatever)
You are probably better off
Never say "Never" (say Never)
That scratchy Nomex, you can doff.

Now your feet are sore, there's the door, and engines four or three...
Hand in your name tag and your iPad, E M T

Buddy, don't blow it,
You've got nobody else to blame.
Buddy, you know it,
Even Dan Savage 'd say the same!

But I kid you not, you had your shot, how bout a cup of Joe?
Gonna be snoozin', in some station, where it's slow!

P.M.T. Washout (P.M.T. Washout)
Still an E M T
P.M.T. Washout (P.M.T. Washout)   (fading...)
Still an E M T
P.M.T. Washout (P.M.T. Washout)
Still an E M T
P.M.T. Washout (P.M.T. Washout)
Still an E M T



Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Paramedichron #7

Bleary eyed and a little nervous, we arrived early and milled around outside the Paramedic Training classroom. We were uniformly dolled up in our freshly-pressed blues and the trademark white labcoat officially known as a smock. Even though we had spent the last two months studying Anatomy and Physiology together, meeting nine Tuesdays in this very classroom, donning the schmock changes everything. This endeavor has suddenly become very real, and the next ten months are invisible in a fog of ignorance, like an unknown wilderness.

Our morning was filled with portentous introductions and tradition dimly recognized. We eighteen have tromped in polished duty boots into a hallowed institution, with a history and culture we may not fully understand. There are labyrinthine rules for situations unimagined and undesired. We were told, in no uncertain terms, to not fuck up so as to damage the Medic One organization, nor to have "relations" with the nursing staff, but I repeat myself. Our immunization records were examined and a TB titer test bubbled under our epidermis with a hair-thin needle by a cheerful Harborview nurse.

After a brief lunch, we were inducted into the realm of high-performance CPR and required to perform two minutes of flawless compressions. For some, this took a single effort, but there is always room for improvement and the profficient were told they could improve. Soon we were all dripping sweat inside our schmocks, and the stink of fear and damp synthetic fabrics funked the room. It didn't take too long to get everyone through their requisite flawless demonstration, and we were rewarded with (we were told) a rare attaboy.

The remainder of our inaugural day consisted of a primer on the iPad tablet, which forms a cornerstone to our curriculum. Some setup, some basic hands-on, and the clever little widget is ours to command. It has its limitations, and compared to my Linux netbook, it is a pretty toy, lacking in horsepower and memory. At twice the price. But in deference to Steve Jobs, (who passed away today), I tip my hat to the genius of the robust hardware, the simple interface, and the ruthless marketing that has made an over-priced hardware monopoly into a hipster fashion trend. In concession to the device, I am composing this Short Report on the cursed gadget with insignificant difficulty and complaint.

The apartment (a modest flat we call the Valle de Cula) is only a block away, and it is a luxury to have a bed, bath, and kitchen so close to where we will spend the better part of the next ten months. Two classmates share the space with the Driver and me: A young man from Port Ludlow, and another from Port Townsend. We walk together after class, each quietly processing the events and information from our confusing and overwhelming day.

A couple beers, a call to the wife, and it's about time to hit the rack. Friday night I will be on the medic unit (doing I don't know what) until 0730 Saturday morning and all day Sunday. I have nothing to read, and the more rest I can bank, the easier the long shifts will be.

I have worked for this for years, and it is amazing to finally be here.