There is something about partners. We are there for each other's best and worst times, we hold the other's life in our hands. We are on a level beyond friendship, but we are casual and rarely completely forward about thoughts and feelings. We have to communicate well, know when and how to speak up and know when to be silent. We have to work as a team. To make jokes; to have fun; maybe even be a little silly.
We have to be able to sit in silence and be comfortable. To not ask for anything more or anything less than what is expected and to understand when we've crossed the line.
Or, we have to be very good at hiding our feelings, ignoring our surroundings, and dealing with the constant misery of being thrown into the fire--four days a week, twelve hours a day--with a bad partner. We have to live with the consequences of choosing a shift, no real control over with whom we spend the next six months.
Sometimes, there are just people you can't work with. But, what if they are the only people available with whom to work?
Luckily, I have been blessed--spoiled, almost--with excellent partners. Easy to get along with, smart medics with good intuition and strong skills. Pretty much the people you want to watch and learn from. Probably the type of medics who are worthy of the term "Paragod" but with none of the arrogance that goes along with it. Nevertheless, if there are saints of paramedicine, some of these medics have surely pulled enough miracles out of this job to qualify for some sort of patronage--I assume a small village in Mexico has been named for one or two of them (or they should be. Start petitioning now, people).
I think, even though I am fairly new at this, that I have seen enough good and bad to distinguish between what makes a good medic and exactly what doesn't.
Everybody has their own list of screaming incompetencies that they have seen in other medics, or seen in fire medics (oh, fire, we do love you), or even recognized in themselves. As a community, I think we discuss our failures more than our successes. We gossip on the latest "Paragod," with all his cockiness and his general lazy behavior. But we rarely mention the advancements, the educational achievements, the jobs well done. War stories--saving lives from sudden danger, our first return of spontaneous circulation, being first on scene at a major incident, calling a diagnosis from a weird presentation and actually being right--we talk about those cases. The ones that flood our systems with adrenaline, raise our heart rates, send our BPs through the roof. We discuss the massive victories, those crazy calls and messed up patients. Those are the calls that fill our rhetoric and make our days.
But, we never talk about the little victories. We never celebrate our average patient, with average problems. Maybe we have made an impact on their day--hell, possibly their lives--but we don't know, and we usually don't care. Yet, the compassion is out there, in little bits and pieces, all across the city, in the hearts and minds of the truly good medics. The type of medics we should all want to be. The type of medic that I want to be.
In this profession, we can let go, we can move on, even from severe trauma. We are known for our ability to take a clinical approach and to never let the last patient affect the treatment of the next.
A good paramedic--a good emergency responder--can have this detachment, but can also feel all the sympathy, all the concern, all the pain when it is merited. They can make that connection.
And they can also let it go.
Because, if you care too much, you break your own heart. You burn yourself out. You come to hate the responsibility you've taken on. But, if you care too little...I honestly believe you will never find true joy in what you do. It's a happy medium you have to find, and the good ones can keep it balanced.
The good ones can run a code, literally be a part of someone's personal disaster, and turn around at the hospital to check on a patient they ran on hours or days earlier just to check up. They can watch a death, call a time on a buckshot suicide, witness a gnarly signal 30 on the side of the road, and then kneel down next to an old woman or little boy and reassure them everything will be alright.
They can handle the job. And they practice it well.
But, in this system, they are rarely rewarded. They consistently get overlooked. There is a lot to be said for them; there is a lot to be said about them. And, a lot to learn, if you are willing. If you're paying attention.
You might already know more than you realize. The perfect teacher is sitting there beside you.
So pay attention.
The Paragods Await Your Offering.
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