"He must be nervous as hell," says Cool Old Medic,"the way he's going through that bag. Hell, MM, you only been gone 3 months! It's just like you been out for a few days!"
"3 and a half. "
"The bag's fine! Here! Take the damn narcs so I can get out of here!"
Cool Old is messing with me, playing, but I really am nervous. Scared I'll miss something stupid, something I take for granted because I would do it all the time. I've been out for a while. I run through the normal inventory, recount my narcs. I feel like it's my first day again.
We get our first call and I still feel nervous on the drive over, as I walk in and glove up.
I immediately slip back into Zen as I step in the house. I can remember it all.
The call goes smooth.
The day goes smooth.
I'm back, and it feels good to be sober, happy, alive and a paramedic.
Then, towards the end of the day, my boots fall apart.
I've had these old Bates for 3 years and they finally gave it up today. I had to run my last call with the shank of my boot taped to the tread and sleeve.
It was bittersweet - what kind of jackass gets emotional over a pair of boots? But all the same those stupid, well priced boots have protected my feet for three years of blood, sweat, and tears and I'll miss them.
They went back into their original box, and were deposited, with full honors, into my garbage can, layed respectfully as I placed them on top of a pizza box.
So then, wiping a tear from my eye, I found myself in the boot aisle at Academy.
And I was looking at a pair of the same, wistfully, and then, out of the corner of me eye, I see these puppies.
I bought them. I couldn't deal with some more Bates. I HIGHLY recommend and endorse them - I got 10 times the use from them than what I paid. Comfy and tough.
So I'm officially a weirdo.
PS - Please welcome Guitar Girl RN to the link list. Funny and in the medical field, and a musician! Go Girl!