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These Hands Were Made for Healing *snort*

I am honestly trying to update more often than I do, but lately all that has actually been going on in my life--and my head--is dealing with my surly partner. And, I don't really want to spread smack about him all over the internet, so I have been refraining from updating...and speaking. Talking about it just agitates me, anyway. And, let's face it, agitated me isn't as much fun as regular me. And neither of them are as much fun as drunk me, but that's for a later date.
I did see something cool this week. We used adenosine on Tuesday. I had never seen it in action before. 'Twas a learning experience for me.
We were called to the house of a twenty-nine year-old female, nineteen weeks gestation, chief complaint of "chest pain". She wasn't really in pain, but rather in SVT (supraventricular tachycardia) at a rate of 240. She said this is something she has been dealing with her whole life, little episodes of SVT, although she'd never had it diagnosed. Today, she said, she only called for an ambulance because it had been going on for FIFTY MINUTES. Go to the doctor, woman!
So we hook her up, get baseline vitals, place an 18-gauge IV into her right AC, and push adenosine. And it works. In a couple of seconds, her heart flatlines for a moment and slowly begins beating again in sinus rhythm at about sixty, steadily climbing up to 120 and holding stable there for as long as I was looking--eventually I do have to get in the cab and drive. She didn't pass out, as I am told sometimes happens; or, jump back up with unexpected enthusiasm for life as her heart restarted, as I am also told sometimes happens. She pretty much looked like she was going to fall out or throw up, and then she looked terrified for about a minute until she stabilized. And then she was fine. Fine. What cool medicine.
Other than that, this week was mostly tense and I got a lot of knitting done. (I say a lot, it was probably more like an inch of pattern. Since I am knitting a sweater, this isn't so much after all.) I tried to sit and be quiet and keep to myself and be happy despite, or in spite, or whatever. And I did fairly well. But, I will tell you, no matter how good I can make the okay days where we don't speak or don't have any major issues I can't handle, I will never be comfortable living in a world in which I am constantly waiting for the next unwarranted outburst.
In fact, I am ready to be done with Mr. Sour McSurly altogether. Talk about a bad influence on my life. Ugh.
Yesterday, was interesting, and a serious blessing in disguise. I decided--unbeknownst to myself, that is--to sleep in and slept through my fairly loud alarm. I awoke instead to a phone call from my FOS at 0615 (TWO hours after I should have been up and around) wondering why I wasn't at work. After apologizing to him five million times, I finally clocked in at 0715 (again TWO hours late) and found out that my partner was sent out with someone else and I would be riding out with another medic whose start time wasn't for an hour. So, said the FOS, would I like to go get breakfast?
WHAT?!
He seriously told me I could go get breakfast. He actually said that to me. Right? He did, right?!
I went and got my truck ready, in kind of a stupor after my sudden turn of events, and went back to his office once it was 10-8. And he told me again. Go get breakfast, be back by eight. Thirty minutes of paid latte time. WHAT?! Shouldn't I be getting severely punished. Or at least forced to roll up my sleeves and expose my wrists to a torturous ruler beating? No, I was going to get breakfast. In hindsight, I should have asked him if he wanted anything, but I was a little too shocked to do anything but hurry up and go before he changed his mind.
So I took the truck, got a latte and the best blueberry cream-cheese muffin ever, and was back in time for my cool, easy to get along with partner-of-the-day to hop in. How cool was my day, yesterday? So cool.
On top of it all, dreading a five-day week starting Saturday with aforementioned full-time partner, I wondered if I could get the weekend off and use the time to ready myself for my upcoming move. I haven't moved in almost three years, I have so much to do, and truthfully very little time. Sister needs to clean, people. So, I called our schedule coordinator and she got both of my shifts covered. How wonderful! I put in for some much needed PTO and now I have a weekend free of pissy partners and open for all kinds of deep cleaning. And I am actually thrilled.
So, yesterday was a good day.
I work today, too, but it's an easy eight hour. Then it's three days off. Lunch with a friend, signing a lease, cleaning both house and car, packing the first few boxes...what a fun-filled weekend.
One final note of ranty-ness: if we are going to a call and you do not give me directions we will not get to that call. In fact, after we have passed the major intersection I am suppose to get us to, and you do not open your mouth, we will entirely miss the address in question. You know, the one you're supposed to be directing me to? And you're not directing? I will stop this truck RIGHT NOW, mister.
Seriously, people. *shakemyhead*
That is all, folks.
Thank your local supervisor today. ;)

I'm Gonna Go Heal Some Shit

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