Nearly there. Three more weeks until freedom rings...and I have to find a job.
Every thing I do at this point is a reminder that I am one step closer to that coveted and long-elusive paramedic card. Finished my paper, done with clinicals, took the practice test, last test in this class, last homework in that class...all a reminder that God-willing, I'll finally have my disco patch. Granted, it's worthless until I find a job, but the fact that I'll have it in my hot little hands is a good start.
Fifteen years ago I became an EMT-B because I wanted to make sure I could handle the stress of being a doctor. While in class I thought about becoming a medic, but would not have been able to handle the combined load of medic school (plus clinicals) on top of my 18-20 credit semesters for my undergrad. And the family wasn't happy about the EMT class...you can imagine what would have happened with the idea of medic school.
But the idea stayed with me. Through college, the failure to get into medical school (primarily a paperwork snafu that went unresolved, so that my applications were essentially circular filed), the failed attempt at nursing school, and several dead-end biotech jobs. EMS was the one thing I kept coming back to; the one thing that never bored me to tears or frustrated me until I wanted to totally quit and never come back. It was the one thing that made me "light up" as a friend said.
And on June 3rd, when I finish my practical test and am just waiting for them to send that card, I will have finally finished the journey I started all those years ago, when I was hoping just to gain a little extra knowledge before med school.
And the next person who says, "but you're so smart! You should be a doctor" will be shot.
