this week has been nice. i've only stayed over at work a cumulative total of about an hour and fifteen minutes. holla. it feels nice actually getting off work on time. lately it seems that the dispatchers have paid more attention to the actual schedules of the people that are actually out there in the thick of the money-making.

i found out the other day that an ambulance ride costs upward of $600. $600 is like a flat fee. after that, it's $7 per mile that we transport. that means that for that patient i took to the border of kentucky the other day, his bill ran somewhere around $1000. for a glamorous taxi. now the $600 doesn't cover anything else. for each patient, we use four pairs of gloves (one loading and one unloading x 2 people) and something the billing department calls an "infection pack," which is two sheets that go over the stretcher to make sure none of the patient's poo and/or filth gets transferred into another patient's poo and/or filth. then there's oxygen. i believe there is just one flat fee for oxygen use, which means that if you are on 2L by nasal cannula (the little nose things they wrap around your ears in the hospital), you get charged the same as someone whom required 12L. now that's about the end of it on a BLS truck. unless you get suctioned, which is another charge (charge for the verb: suction, plus the canister, suction tip and tubing).

now most of the time, insurance will pay for ambulance rides... as long as they are necessary. however, i have had countless patients need an ambulance because, and i quote, "could not sit for an extended period of time," so they needed to lay down. i believe that if you cannot sit for an extended period of time, and that you MUST lie down, you shouldn't be going anywhere. truth is, when we put someone on a stretcher, we lift their heads up (also called semi-fowlers position) so the center of gravity is basically the same as if they were sitting. with an angled head rest, you've got the straight downward force of gravity plus the half of your body at the 45 degree angle sliding down the headrest. if you don't understand, i'll draw it for you.

i don't buy it for a minute that someone absolutely cannot sit for an extended period of time. i don't buy it, and neither will the insurance company, which brings me back to my blog that i wrote some time ago; people think they're entitled. maybe it's not that serious. perhaps some people just really want an ambulance. but don't think for one minute that medicare will front the bill because you would rather lie down on a stretcher than sit on a bus.

I went to dinner last night with two of my favorite ladies in the world. One is the undisputed champion, the other is Erin. Erin and I met my first year at ut in gen chem 1. We were in the same discussion section so it was easy for us to study together for quizzes and tests, and since she lived on campus, we could study and/or hang out with ease. In the beginning, it was always me helping her. She would stay up all night studying the night before the test, I would go to bed early.

As time went on, my study habits tended to falter more and more; my absolute NEED for financial independece led me to carrying a full course load while working full time after school. My grades suffered and my social life took a hit. Jump ahead two years later. Erin gets accepted to pharmacy school, I do some soul searching and realize that maybe medical school isn't right for me. I decide maybe I'll work my way up the ladder via EMT school, go on to become a paramedic, then get into management. Yeah well that ship isn't sailing. Being an EMT can be very rewarding at times; it makes you realize that something as little as holding someones hand can make a world of difference. But I don't feel that chouffering people around town is going to keep me satisfied for the rest of my life. Neither is sitting at a desk. I want to make people better, not keep them alive.

Last night I was sitting at dinner with two of my favorites, talking to Erin about the struggles of pharmacy school and the like. Then the conversation came to me. What are my plans? I graduated ut with a 2.86 gpa in microbiology. My overall goal is to somehow get into pa school. Ever since I can remember, I've been periodically checking the statistics of PA school applicants, most of which have gpas of around 3.5, just to see what they look for. I told Erin about the obstacles I would have to overcome before I even thought of applying: retake classes, shadow doctors, volunteer. All of these things I would need to do to make me as similar as possible to the people who were getting in.

The next thing Erin said hit me like a bolt of lightning: "you know what you want. You've been working in the medical field the past four years. You've seen the different areas, you've tried other things. Now you know that that is what you want to do. That's what they look for." I realize now that I have something that most other people don't have: experience. I've got four years of patient contact experience. You can't put a price on that.

I will be taking my GRE exam within the next year. I've started to look for PAs to shadow. Through all of these years of my grades suffering due to the amount of hours I put in at various area hospitals, finally (hopefully) it will pay off.

Posted from my iPod

i remember moving from atlanta in 2001 to tennessee. i left behind the best friends i ever had. i knew most of them for a total of three months before i left. for the next three summers, all seven of them would come and stay at my parents house. all of them. so it was eight of us. one room. one bed. no, no orgies or anything cuh-razy like that. we really were good kids. extremely good. probably too good. hell, i didn't know what masturbating was until the end of sophomore year of high school. each of us can probably be classified by our parents as "the easy ones."

as consecutive visits rolled by, and the four-day weekend of their visit was over, i remembered how close these seven people were to me, even if we really didn't talk that much. these days, some of us keep in touch better than others, but one person stands out in particular. after the first summer of their visit, the night of their departure from the house, i sat with my mom and told her, "i can honestly see myself marrying someone like Allison." my mom, realizing how naive and young i am, simply told me, "or someone you haven't met yet." she was right. years went on, the group stopped coming as we got older, but we still did our best to keep in touch. and we did. nearly ten years later i realize i have that person i've been looking for. i guess you never know. but i do. i can honestly say that i've found my soulmate; the one i want to be with. and it feels awesome. i don't feel like anybody else could possibly understand what it is exactly that i'm feeling. i am completely in love with my absolute best friend.

i think it's a pretty rare thing to find someone like that; someone who knows you in and out. i feel like relationships would be so much more successful if people would just stop looking so hard. i suppose that's what they say though: "you find the one when you're not looking," or whatever. for all of those people that have "the worst luck" with dating, quit trying so hard. a concern with dating a close friend of many years tends to be risking the friendship; you don't want to put your friendship with that person on the line. that's understandable. however, why risk an entire life of never knowing? if things start to get weird, stop before you're ahead. i think a big mistake is people feel it getting weird, but end up saying "screw it" and you know, screwing them anyways. don't make that mistake. wait for it. don't rush into a relationship with a good friend without testing the waters first. i just hate to see people unhappy with their relationships or unsuccessful in trying to make one work with someone they don't match up with. that's the end of my relationship advice. you can now call me delilah.

I realize that for the past couple days I've been on hiatus, and I apologize for that. Hopefully I didn't disappoint any of my one followers.

Tonight I told my partner that I would be switching shifts. Originally I was going to let the bitch figure it out for herself on Monday when she came into work and sat around for an hour before realizing I wasn't coming in and I therefore wouldn't be working with her anymore. I like to think of it as a form of natural selection, or natural something. I just wanted her to figure it out on her own. Instead, she blindsided me with it: "so are you switching trucks?". Dammit. Now due to my incessant rage that exponentially multiplies itself like a strand of E. coli in nutrient rich agar at 98 farenheit, one would think i'd come right out and tell her "yes, because of your dumb ass." Instead, all I could get out was "yeah" before she jumped to the next question on the interogators list. "Is it because of me?" Fuck. Now don't get me wrong, I cannot stand this chick. However, she has no idea that everyday I wish she would hit somebody while she's driving ergo she'd be fired, vis-a-vis I wouldnt have to work with her anymore. But instead of letting out a "hell yeah," a "no" came out. Why? Why do some people find it so hard to tell a complete moron how much you can't stand them? Ask anyone, I'm not afraid to hurt someones feelings. Perhaps I do have a heart though, even though that was never really the question. The real trouble I'm having is trying to figure out why day after day I put up with her bullshit yet I can't go off on her. Literally, everyday I feel like exploding with all the stories I tell everybody else to make fun of her. Do I feel bad? Maybe I feel bad that she really is THAT stupid. But why, instead of confronting people with the problems they have with them, do people bottle it up, and wait to get home to let it out? Everybody does it. Originally I thought it was a personality thing, but maybe it's just the fact that people don't want to be involved in confrontations when they aren't necessary. Who knows.

Posted from my iPod

goodbye dummy

Today I received the best news since I've been employed at my job. Today my supervisor told me that I would be switching partners. Now before I get too far into this, I'd like to describe some situations that I've had to deal with:

Imagine being in a car. A two person car. All day. Everyday. With your mother. You love your mother right? She always means the best; gives you advice, tells you how to do things better and more efficiently (in her eyes), is quick to judge your decisions that don't fall in line with hers, and willingly tries to open up debates for each of you to explain to each other why you feel the way you do. In this case, I hate my "mother." My "mother's" name is Tammy. Tammy doesn't get it. Tammy doesn't understand that I despise her. It doesn't click in her thick always-has-a-smile-on-her-face skull that the reason why I don't talk to her while we're on the road for 12 hours is because I don't like her. She constantly asks me questions while I'm sitting there reading like, "do you want the heat on?" or "you want to listen to the radio?" while she is in the process of turning them on. If I wanted the radio on, I would turn it on. If i wanted the heat on, I'd turn the heat on. If you want it on, by all means, turn the damn thing on, but don't ask me whether or not I want something done when you are in the process of doing it or are going to do it anyways.

Now, going back to the smile. It's one of those smiles that looks like a face someone would make when they're trying to decide which of two things to choose. You know, you're eyes squint, and you've got a stupid stupid smirk on your face. However, the only things she's trying to decide between is which way would work best in pissing me off.

The lady has a spoon on her swiss army knife and brags about it. She just spent $500 on a butchers block and spent an entire day calling all of her friends and family to tell them. She still talks to her 26 year old son like he's ten. She always says "my pleasure" instead of "you're welcome." She calls everyone "my dear." She tells me how things "should" be done, when in fact, she is completely wrong. She thinks dialysis clinics are cold so patient's circulation increases (think about it). She constantly runs into my heel with the stretcher while I'm walking in front of her. She drills me on issues of abortion, healthcare, and religion, when the only counter-point she offers is some buzz-word/slogan she heard on some fox news show.

She, my friends, is a moron. Needless to say, I'm out of hell. I've done my time. The lady has never been able to keep a partner for more than two months. I've made it two and a half. Call me a hero, call me what you will. I'm not telling the bitch I won't be working with her anymore. She'll figure it out when next monday rolls around and I'm not there to absorb all of the useless and pointless incorrect bullshit that she has to offer.

New Shift: M-F 6:30a to 4:30p
CAN'T WAIT!

I'm starting to get a hang of using a keyboard that is about two and a half square inches to write blogs longer than some essays I wrote in college. I feel like I've reverted back to the seventh grade by only being able to use my right index finger while my others slack off and watch. It's like a construction site in the palm of my hands.

I figure this blog is a good way to remember what goes on and how I'm feeling on different days because my memory is terrible. Last night was another one of those nights I absolutely can't get enough of. It probably could have been better but some people find charging their phone a lot harder to do than most others. For the past couple years I've been practicing and enhancing my social life by sitting at home. There are few things I like more on a Friday or Saturday night than grabbing a six pack, plopping on my favorite chair that is terrible for my posture in my boxers, and drinking while playing videogames over the Internet with my closest friends. Am I a hermit? Maybe. Loser? Probably. Yet with this type of lifestyle, I've managed to keep in touch with friends relocated to Wyoming, and meet people who happen to be an heir to a successful mortuary somewhere in rural Oklahoma. And I can do all of this in the comfort of my own apartment. Why go to a bar and deal with a bunch of conceited douche bags looking for a) a dirty skank whom hopefully has the clap or b) a fight. If I don't want to deal with somebody, one simple press of the button shuts their prepubesent ass up. I suppose if I went to a bar there wouldn't be kids around, but still. Although I have probably spent weeks of my life in front of my tv, controller in hand, I can honestly say that I don't regret it.

Bring on the weeks to come.

Posted from my iPod

As I sit here waiting for my pager to start going off to pick up the next "poor soul" who is too lazy to walk so their insurance can pay for the ambulance ride to and from dialysis, I start to realize that there are people these days that don't give a damn about anything. They don't give a damn that the reason this country is the way it is today is because the attitude of people has gone from "give me liberty" to "give me." People think they are entitled to take advantage of the system. These people are the reasons why a lawyer is a word in the English language, the reason why a car accident can be 40% your fault, the reason why taxes need to raise to pay for girl-from-the-block whom still is unemployed yet REFUSES to take birth control, and the reason why obesity is so prevalent.

I understand that there is a fine line between genetics and stupidity, but I have zero sympathy for someone who weighs 350 pounds, needs an oversized stretcher for the ride home from the hospital (abdominal pain) and is placed in a bed with a bag of potato chips clipped on the side rail.

No sympathy.

I don't like talking to people about religion because I am extremely stubborn in my beliefs as I'm sure defendant is equally so. I do, however, love acting like I know what I'm talking about to sweet old ladies on the verge of finding out the truth with all that mess. I don't think it's right for someone in that condition to start asking questions and having doubts. It would be like telling a four year old there's no Santa the day before Christmas. I'm not all about that. I smile, nod, wonder how long it's going to be until I'm at the point in my life where I actually love my job, and keep on truckin. I'll let people have their fun; convert me, open my eyes, "omg you are so right," and get the good feeling people get when you help another person. I'll be the one looking you square in the face thinking, "you have no idea and neither do I."

Posted from my iPod