Sometimes, you can know too much. I don't know enough to know it all, maybe that would be better.
They say ignorance is bliss. I think knowledge can be painful and worrisome.
This is not easy for me to write, I'm rambling. But my thoughts right now are moving all around.
I am scared.
Sometimes this job is great. We get to be the people who help. We fix problems. When confronted by a problem such as a fire, or vehicle wreck, I use my training and experience, my knowledge to find a way to solve or at least improve the situation.
I've been in EMS for 17+ years, 14 of that as a paramedic. In that time I've helped all I could. I've decided to do certain treatments because my training and experience has shown me that it was needed.
We get close to other medical professionals, Doctors and Nurses. We get to see the inside or "behind the scenes" operation of how they and we treat patients. And you learn things by that. Right or wrong, you learn that we talk to people differently based on what is really happening. The fibromyalgia case that needs his fix gets talked to like...well, a drug seeker. The 35 year old man with suspected testicular cancer gets talked to completely different, calmly, quietly, soothing. One has a problem that may be of his own design and gets little sympathy. The other has a possibly life changing disease and is talked to with care and compassion, trying to soothe him and ease his fears.
My mind is jumping from subject to subject.
One of the things I hate about this job is being away from home when things happen. I hate the phone call about the washer going out, or the water leak at home, while I'm at work. What can I do from here except worry?
I don't know if I've ever let you readers know, my wife is a nurse-RN. My mother-in-law is an RN, as are my sister-in-laws. What I was telling you about the "behind the scenes" knowledge, they know it too.
My wife went in for her "female check up" this week. Because of a symptom she complained of, the OB/GYN sent her for a mammogram.
She had the mammogram today. They asked her to wait, and then the radiologist asked her to do more tests. After an ultrasound and color imaging (which was unexpected) they let her go with a promise to send the report to her Dr. today.
I got the phone call tonight. She said that while doing the imaging, the tech was chatting in making small talk. Then, she turned very serious while looking at the images. Small talk stopped. No more chatting.
That was one of those "clues" about knowing the inside workings I talked about.
Even more unexpected, her OB/GYN called her tonight, after hours. Normally she is outgoing. Tonight she was subdued. She said her first question was "how do you feel?" This was another "bad sign" to her. She talked quietly, soothingly.
To make a long rambling story a bit shorter, her Dr. is referring her to the Susan G. Komen Center at Presbyterian Hospital next week.
I am afraid. I am worried. I am mad.
I don't know how to help her. I don't know how to make it better.
I fix things, that's what I do. Her mother gave me my Nome de Plume because I fix things. I remodel houses, I fix cars, I fix other patients. I can do nothing for her and it sucks. I hate the feeling of powerlessness.
I want to cry, I want to scream.
We both know enough about medicine to be worried. We don't know enough to do anything about it.
We may find out it is nothing, but we will have to wait to find out. Waiting sucks.
I have always prided myself on protecting others. I prepare myself to protect my family from dangerous people. I am trained and willing to take risks to protect others from fire and injury.
No weapon I own, and no training I have can protect her.
She is my best friend, and I am powerless.