Thursday, June 23 2005
I don’t know how much more good news this old carcass can stand.
It’s all these cigars. DTs gave up smoking over a year ago, April methinks, yet here he is once again with a ten dollar cigar dangling from his smirking yap, dropping ash into a tumbler of single malt as he celebrates yet again, the second time in three or so weeks.
Cigars and Bushmill’s is just something we medics do, on occasion, you see.
Yes, tremble, Northern Virginia – DTs is a medic. Not a paramedic, mind you – although the classes and clinicals and requirements are met for that lofty post, the street time has not yet been concluded. The test taken (and passed, yes, thank you, thank you) was for Intermediate level, or what some disdainfully term “paramediate”. Philistines. I refuse to speak with them.
For is it not Written, in Protocols 1:15, “Verily, the Intermediate shalt do all that a Paramedic may do, yea even unto twelve leads and rapid sequence intubations, and all that may be done unto every manner of creature that dials 911, even the porcupine.”
The Book of Protocols has some strange stuff. Nevertheless, it is a Good Book.
In this Age of the Internet we were fortunate to find advance information concerning our test status from the NREMT web site. Otherwise, it’d be another week or three before the mail brought my rocker patch. As it is, my frazzled nerves are sooner on the mend.
Could that be it? Have studies been done? Is the “celebratory” drink nothing more than what was claimed in the 20’s advertising, a “nerve tonic”? I refuse to condone excuses for excessive drinking, but think (if that be the word, at this time) that a Saint Bernard be-necklaced with a small keg is perhaps a fine mascot for EMS folk everywhere.
As for me, I shall now gently stew. Fear not, there be many steps left until DTs roams the streets with IV needle in hand and paddles at the ready.
Paramedic be in me sights now, however, me hearties.
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