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I didn't write this, but I read it and fell in love with it! I saw it in a post by EMT/Paramedic on Facebook.
"Recently,
I was asked by a colleague to write an introduction letter for her EMT
class. I had read David Givot's excellent commencement speech for
paramedic graduates, and I thought long and hard about what I wish
someone had said to me on my first day of EMT class, before I even
embarked on this career path. This is my answer.
Welcome to the
profession whose entry-level practitioners — you, in a few months —
rank 4th from the bottom in the Bureau of Labor Statistics salary
rankings. The only people paid less than you are pre-school teachers,
dishwashers and meatpackers. The guy riding on the back of the garbage
truck, or holding a sign at a highway construction zone, makes more
money than your EMT instructor. Likely, a lot more.
And none of those people are required to make life-or-death decisions. You will.
It is a profession where the line-of-duty death rate is comparable to
firefighters and police officers. For those of you who aspire to flight
paramedic status, that particular niche is by far the most dangerous
profession in America — ahead of loggers, miners, and Alaska crab
fisherman.
It is a profession whose divorce, suicide and
substance abuse rates soar far higher than the general population. The
average career expectancy of an EMT is five years.
Five years.
Some of you will go on to jobs in nursing or other healthcare fields.
Those of you that don't move on to nursing or PA school will leave EMS
with a career-ending back injury, or leave EMS healthy but not whole;
jaded and cynical, your idealism burned away in the furnace-like reality
of our profession, your faith in the innate goodness of man gone like
so much ash and smoke up the chimney.
You'll be disrespected
You will be disrespected by patients and bystanders who don't know any
better, and belittled by doctors and nurses who should. And many of you
will endure the abuse for free labor, donating your services as
volunteers.
So why do I tell you this? Well, they call it
informed consent, a concept you'll learn about in the first few chapters
of that EMT textbook you're carrying. Before you agree to the abuse
you're about to suffer, it's only fair that you know what you're getting
into.
And it's not what you think.
You will sift
through broken glass and twisted metal, wade through urine and feces and
vomit, weather heaping torrents of verbal abuse from the people you're
trying to help, all for the prospect of a few dollars on payday, and
perhaps…just perhaps…a show of gratitude now and again.
I'm
here to tell you that what you've been promised is a lie, if only a
little white one. When you're green and idealistic, the romance and
thrill of EMS is powerful. All of us were adrenaline junkies at some
point. Plus, there's a decent chance it might even get you laid. What's
not to like?
You won't save that many lives
But you will soon discover the hidden truth, the one that drives most people out of our profession:
We don't save that many lives.
Lifesaving may be what we train for, but the opportunity to actually
save someone comes all too rarely, and when it does present itself, the
outcome depends more upon luck and timing than our skills. In my career,
I've had my share of code saves. Some of them even made it out of the
hospital alive. Others hung on just long enough for their families to
tell them goodbye. I've made the critical diagnosis, gotten the tough
airway, turned around the crashing asthmatic, and stabilized the shocky
gangbanger with multiple unnatural holes in his person. I've needled
chests, paced, defibrillated, and cardioverted, and given countless
drugs.
But, other than a handful of exceptions, I can't state
with any certainty that my actions were the difference between life and
death. In that handful of exceptions, all but one or two were saved
simply by applying the techniques that any John Q. Citizen with a basic
first aid course could have done. Ask your instructor if you don't
believe it's true. They'll tell you the same thing.
The reality of the profession
The reality of your profession isn't exciting rescues and cardiac
arrest resuscitations twice a shift. Your reality will be dialysis
transfers and people who can't poop. It will be toothaches at 3:00 am,
and you'll have to maneuver your stretcher around five parked cars to
get to the front door, and weave your way through five able-bodied
drivers to get to the patient with a complaint so minor you can't
believe they called 911 for it.
So why, if you're not going to save all that many lives, should you even bother?
You should bother because EMS is a calling. Even when you leave EMS, it
never really leaves you. It's what Henry David Thoreau meant when he
said, "Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it,
unearth it, and gnaw it still."
You should bother because, even
if we're not saving lives, what we do matters. It matters in ways
unnoticed by us, to people you may not even remember tomorrow.
You should bother, because EMTs are privileged to play in life's great
game. Too many unlucky people watch the action thunder by, stuck at a
desk, or watching it on television at home.
You should bother,
because it's the little things that matter. Most of your patients are
ignorant of your skills. Few of them understand the technology you
wielded so expertly. But they'll remember the smile you gave them, or
the way you tucked the blanket in to ward away winter's chill, or the
way you stood in the rain, getting drenched as you held the umbrella
over them as your partner loaded them in the rig. They'll remember calm
competence, and gentle speech.
They'll remember the joke you
made to lighten the tension. They'll remember those things and more, and
they'll remember your face long after you've forgotten theirs.
You'll be remembered
They'll remember you because, even though they were just another call
to you, you were a major player in a defining event in their lives.
They'll come up to you, years after the fact, and say, "I remember you.
You take care of me when I had my heart attack."
And likely all
you did was apply oxygen and take them to the hospital. Maybe you
helped them with another dose of nitro or encouraged them to take an
aspirin — really nothing they couldn't have done themselves. But you're
the one they remembered, and you're the one they thanked.
You
should bother, because in the tapestry of human existence, you get to
contribute your own unique stitch. You get to make your mark in ways
that cannot be quantified on a spreadsheet or a profit and loss
statement. Not everyone gets to touch the life of another, but EMTs do.
You should bother, because when people are at their most vulnerable,
they will invite you into their homes and tell you things they won't
even tell their priest. And they'll expect you to make it better
somehow. I'm not sure you understand now how profound an honor that is,
but hopefully one day you will.
The question is, can you be worthy of that honor?
If you think so, then welcome to EMS. Do us proud.
-Kelly Grayson"
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