"Well!...F**k Me!"

Well, a lot has happened since I got around to making a post. I'm sorry for not posting sooner.

I went out with my preceptor for a day shift. She and her partner are pretty tight. I'm not quite sure what to name them in my blog. They both have very distinct personalities. My preceptor's partner is a 42 year old man with the libido of a 19 year old. Yikes! He's very funny, whip-smart and loves to teach. So far, I haven't seen him do anything I'd frown on other than be a bit too hyper and distracted.

My preceptor herself? Well, I'm not sure how to describe her. She's kind of hard to pin down. She's definitely got mad skills in the ALS department but also seems to have a cavalier attitude about her job. She's young and pretty but could, no doubt, put any firefighter on his ass who crosses her. I've given other characters in my life "blog names" but one doesn't come to me for either her or her partner. For now, I'll just call her my preceptor and her partner will be the "other one," I guess.

We ran about 4 calls. None of them gave me the opportunity to perform any ALS interventions. Worth any mention were the seizure patient who sells his seizure medications to buy heroin and cocaine. He's so used to riding to the hospital, he put himself in the ambulance and the nurses at the hospital called him by name. There was the diabetic cook at the nearby hotel who was munching candy and smiling by the time we arrived. His manager got scared and called it in as a siezure. I checked his vitals and blood sugar and accepted his refusal of transport without a qualm. He thanked us and apologized for the trouble. I assured him he could call us back if needed. He laughed.

I've got 5 more shifts with these characters and 6 at a nearby emergency room (ED, or Emergency Department). More hijinks to come, I'm sure.

At school, there's been drama. One of the central instructors to the program has left suddenly under circumstances that nobody will discuss. We've had different instructors for our classes and I, for one, am pleased. In general, the quality of the lectures have been excellent and the academic demands a bit higher. I like a challenge. The drama lies in the person who is supposed to arrange all of our clinical rotations. Suffice it to say, she manages by crisis only. This means that everything is left to the last minute and I get frantic emails telling me I have to be at such-and-such at 2:00pm tomorrow or I will fail all of my classes, the sky will fall and I'll be excommunicated.

Well!...F**k me!

I'm a meticulous planner and I try to organize my life as much as possible to enable me to do all the bajillion things I have to do. I am now finding myself dealing with emergencies created by someone's lack of proper planning. It's really pissing me off since the people who can't plan how to take a crap are threatening me with academic failure when I don't meet their insane demands.

This person, as I've been told, is very sweet and you can ask her anything. I made the mistake of asking her what to do since I had a clinical rotation (that she knew about a week before) scheduled on the day she scheduled me to go do something else. Here's the response I get,

"This is a career choice, not a game. Only the committed ones will stay to the end & excel."

Well! Again, F***k me! I didn't know I wasn't committed! ....Let's see....I quit my high-paying job....I sold my big, lovely house.....I gave up all my free time.... I've gotten outstanding grades.... Yep! You're right! I'm NOT COMMITTED! Wow! I guess I'll go get a job as a clerk or something! I merely asked some questions (very basic ones about what was expected for my clinical rotations that should have been made clear in the handouts).

"F**k me!"

Oh, did I mention she sent this email that contained other insulting things to a mailing list that's read by the entire department? I suppose I should be used to being publicly insulted from my years in the military. After reading it, I was ready to chop somebody in the throat and taunt them with an ET tube while they died of asphyxiation.

Fortunately, the jedi in me took over and I calmed down.

I have not responded to any of this, nor have I spoken with the Cranky Spastic Cow or, CSC, as she shall be called from here on. I've still not had my questions answered. I will probably have to figure out what I need to do on my own (spend time I don't have) and also work this situation out with the department head (more time I don't have) who I suspect is not going to help because he doesn't like conflict or other silly things that take up his time.

I keep saying it because it feels like everyone's doing it: "F***k Me!"

When is it my turn?

--maddog