Talking to Myself

Life is weird, you know.

Sunday morning, finished reading the local paper, or what is left of it post newspapers' demise. Can we call it a paper if it only exists online? 

I had emailed a friend about the difference between being a screenwriter and being a playwright and it got me thinking about what I have said about screenwriting. So, I cruised through my blog to see and found this. 

This is the original link (https://coyoteunderground.blogspot.com/2007/07/life-in-split-second.html ) but you can read the whole thing below.

BEGIN TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE

After I completed EMT training and started answering emergency medical calls for our fire department, I worried about how I would do when we were called to our first car wreck.

I didn’t plan to be it.

Monday morning, I cruised the Net, checking activities in Portland, planning our vacation next month to the Oregon coast.

I made progress on my current script and liked what I read. Maybe this will be the “one.”

Ate lunch, collected my Dad and we ran errands in the afternoon.

On the way home, at an intersection I’ve passed countless times, a man driving a full-size Dodge pickup, was waving to a friend, and started across the intersection without noticing I was already there.

He hit us at the driver’s door, which sent the Chevy sliding sideways up a hill until it hit the soft dirt at the side of the road and commenced to roll.

Shaken witnesses at the scene said the car rolled three times.

Fortunately, I don't remember the roll.

I clearly remember the scene out the windshield, sliding sideways up the road. Then starting to roll.

Returned to full consciousness after coming to rest upright.

This ceiling center console which held interior lights and a place for the garage door opener, came loose and bashed into my head.

Every window, save the back one over the tailgate, broke out.

Six Good Samaritans ran to the car, all clutching their cell phones, all calling for help, all trying to assure us help was on the way.

One older lady held my hand while trying to call my family, and she was so upset, she couldn’t get her phone to work. The rollover must have been a horrific to watch. No fun to endure.

Neither air bag deployed.

Volunteer fireman, guys I’ve trained with, used the Jaws of Life, to remove the door so they could package me for the ambulance.

Package. That’s what we call it. An intricate set of procedures to insure the patient suffers no further injury before medical help can be reached. I’ve practiced this several times in training. Works slick, but trust me, it’s no fun being the package.

Another team removed my father.

After eight hours, the hospital sent us home. Dad has a broken collar bone. He’s out of commission for six weeks.

I have cuts, strained muscles and a heck of a bruise on my head. (And I later discovered, a torsion injury in my back from the seat belt that saved my life.) Even my hair hurts.

Today’s Wednesday. My aches are fading. I’m a little less stiff. What doesn’t seem to diminish is my memory.

I clearly remember the view through the windshield and having the presence of mind to think, this is my life. This moment. This second.

Not in three weeks on vacation. Or next fall when the Nicholls are announced. Or that fateful day I get it all together and something sells.

This second, I’m rolling a two ton car.

Make your life what you want it to be. Not next week or six months from now.

This second. 

END OF TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE.

So, here I am on Sunday, wasting time, and always in the back of my mind is a little voice who sometimes whispers, sometimes SHOUTS, Why?  

Why are you still doing this? Writing, submitting, believing?*

Now, a lot has happened since 2007. Some good. Some bad. Mostly just regular life. 

The last two years I've enjoyed a type of career success that I'd never had before. Right now I'm riding something pretty hot, so who knows what will happen? Could be colder than deep space by tomorrow.

Or not.

What my 2023 self needed to know was what my 2007 self learned. 

Your life is what you make it. 

Make it what you want.

And I didn't even need to wreck the car again to remember.

*My latest work has a pivotal moment where the character wonders about the nature of Hope. Why do humans persist in hoping? This morning I paid $40 to get a download of a scientific study that proves there is a portion of the human brain that generates hope. 

I'm still trying to get my mind around that concept. It's not a Pollyanna character flaw or silly wishful thinking. Or a socialized construct of the modern mind. It's our brain. Our actual meat and blood brain.

How 'bout that?

Hot Time in the Old Town

Last Wednesday, an arsonist set nine fires in the woods around my community.

Local News Story, 2nd Day

Due to swift recognition of the perpetrator by firefighers and fast-action by local law enforcement, the suspected arsonist was arrested early the same day.

Suspect in Custody

Our fire department's Chief and I were first on scene and I ended up on the working end of a shovel for a while while the Chief managed the county-wide first response over the radio.

I don't think I'll ever forget the odd sense of bewilderment I felt as I looked over my shoulder from throwing dirt on flames to see a string of smoke columns erupt behind my back. 

I thought, how is the fire over there? I heard our Assistant Chief yell through the smoke -- someone's driving down [the road] setting fires!

Spent the rest of the day and half the night in the staging area as on scene medic (my usual job) where I watched the guys for heat stress, handed out snacks and cold water. I heard it over and over from firefighters -- we're used to people making dumb mistakes and accidently setting the woods on fire -- no one could comprehend someone setting intentional fires.

I had one scary moment. I was dragging a hose, laying down a wet line. the Chief was at the truck running the pump, talking on the radio. I'm connected to him via the hose and I have a radio. I hear gunfire. I have flames at my feet and smoke in my face and I can't even see the fire truck behind me. I yell, "Someone's shooting at us!" I crouch down behind a burning tree. Nothing else happens. (Except, of course, the big freaking forest fire.) I stand back up and start the wet line again. More gunfire. Okay, a foot-wide burning pine tree is not enough of a hiding place for my fat self. I duck down again and decide I'm not moving until the Chief takes care of whoever is shooting at me. I hear him yell that it's lost ammunition. 

The area is a local favorite target shooting spot. People leave behind live rounds by accident. Fire sets them off. Okay, I think and start the hose again. About five feet later it ocurrs to me, hold on, that still means bullets are flying around out here, but I decide to be Scarlet O'Hara and think about it tomorrow.

I can't wait for my vacation.

Sunday Drive

Today we went on a 56 mile ATV ride over the course for next weekend's local fundraising bike ride. We were shooting GPS coordinates at different spots to locate helicopter landing zones in case anyone needs to be rescued along the route.

56 miles.

On an ATV.

Tonight I'm hearing from parts of my body which are normally quiet.

Sssssh.

It was fun though. Here are some of the sights.

If you're out for a walk and see this ...

Bear Poop

... keep walking.

And the answer to the eternal question: does a bear poop in the woods?

Yes, and on the road too.

Smoke Detectors

A citizen sees what they think is a forest fire and the fire department turns out to chase smoke.

I'm driving the third vehicle, the medical QRU for rehab in case our firefighters do find a fire.

And I'm playing with my camera, because there wasn't any fire.

Turns out it was an odd cloud formation, but everyone is on edge here. There's a 15,000+ acre fire burning in Montana right now and we're all breathing smoke whether we want to or not.

Be Afraid.

I was frightened by a dust bunny this morning.

Walking into my office in the wee hours, the office door about four feet from the laundry room, I saw something on the floor by the washer.

I started to move in for a closer look and thought -- hold on -- might that thing jump on me?

Scene safety is the FIRST thing they teach EMTs and firemen.

So, I paused, I peered, I stepped back, retrieved a flashlight and took a second look.

Look at this freakin' thing. It looks like it has horns!

Now, I might say, since I'm currently writing a horror script, I have creeped myself over the edge.

Or, I might lead you to believe, we grow 'em extra big in Montana.

But, I think, truth be told, someone needs to clean house.

And keep the hallway lights on.

Save Your Heart

For your sweetheart, yourself, your off-spring.

Heart attack symptoms in women can be different from those well-known symptoms that befall men.

43% of women with a heart attack did NOT have chest pain.

Their symptoms were fatigue, weakness, shortness of breath and abdominal pressure that felt like gas.

Other frequent heart related symptoms in women are jaw pain, indigestion, back pain, fainting and nausea.

These symptoms shouldn't be ignored or written off as "normal" aging.

Save your heart and quite possibly yourself.

National Flashlight Day

How on earth did I miss this one?

As anyone on my team will tell you -- I have a little flashlight obsession.*

They mock me, but when the lights go out, or we're paged to the back of beyond at 2 AM, who is the only one NOT flogging through the dark?

That'd be me.



*and you thought it was only pencils.

Freedom's Just Another Word For

Finishing the Fire Department's FEMA grant for this year.

Written and submitted.

Yay!

Fly in the Ointment

Ever thought the Universe was aiming messages at you?

With a close look at the sidebar, you'll see I work in emergency services.

Last week we had a community meeting with a report from the fire chief about the fire department status over the last year.

Now, I know, having been there for most of it, that our cadre of fire/EMS volunteers worked their collective asses off responding to stuff like this --

and rising car wreck numbers, more medical calls than ever, plus hours of training when not dragging ourselves from warm beds in the wee hours to venture out in the cold dark to rescue neighbors and strangers.

At the community meeting, from beginning to end, including during the Chief's speech, one fat, petty, mean-spirited, big-mouth, freakin' shit-head moron made snarky cracks about the firemen.

That one person would tear down the work of twenty made me sick to my stomach. I heard grumbling from firemen sitting behind me, but no one stepped up to say, shut your fat, petty, mean-spirited, big mouth.

My in-house anthropologist tells me this is situation normal for a humans. Some people do the work. Some people bitch about the people doing the work.

Day after the meeting, still feeling bummed, driving to town I saw this sign.

Since I didn't need chip repair, I thought the first part of the message was for me.

Especially, since it was almost what the Chief said after the meeting. The department has overwhelming support from the community, This was ONE fat, petty, mean-spirited, big-mouth, freakin' shit-head moron.

So I said, thanks Universe and felt better.

That the cost of doing business is dealing with these kind of people, not my favorite life lesson.

Top Hose Tourney

Yesterday our Fire Department sponsored Firefighter Games as part of a fundraiser and 9/11 commemoration.

An obstacle course race to Save the Citizen.

And a Shootout.

That's Dearest in the white helmet. He and his partner won the Shootout, retiring undefeated.

And then there was this.

Primus, volens et potens

Today I taught an EMS endorsement class to a group of First Responders.

I used a recording of Darth Vader to explain respirations, a naked picture of Vin Diesel for skin assessment and a clip from Psycho as an example of a blood-letting device for the glucometry section.

I knew someday all that time I spent watching movies would come in handy.



*Primus, volens et potens
First, willing and able.
Motto of First Responders.

It's Only A Test

I"m studying for the National Registry test for the higher level EMT class I just completed.

Talk among yourselves.

Eureka!

I passed my EMT Practicals.

Watch Your Language

The following video struck me funny since all semester, the young men in my Advanced EMT class have apologised to me whenever they swore.

Now, I'm a writer. I am not offended by language.* I'm not above using whatever language I need to get the effect I want.

I also went to college in the 60s. Drugs, Sex & Rock and Roll, my generation invented that.

Now, I love 'em like the brothers I never wanted, but so far, nothing these baby boys have come up with has shocked, appalled, or even surprised me. But, because I'm 30 years older than they are, (oy) they treat me like a little old church lady.

Should I tell them?

Husband Dearest says there is nothing wrong with being treated like a lady.

Should I tell him?


So kids, today's lesson is:

Judge not by appearance,

and

for God's sake,

mind your fucking language.




*For the record, I'm offended by stupidity, cruelty and liars.

Nervous Energy

This is my brain, one week to EMT Practicals.

I'm waking up in the middle of the night doing patient assessments.

So, if I'm not here for a bit, that's why.

My suggestion, check out Second Cite (sidebar) and see the pretty pictures.

All The News That Fits In Print

So, kiddo is in England,

and I'm not.

AND this song makes me cry, every damn time.


But, I'm staying busy.

This happened.

I finished my grant-funded photography show and am now trolling for a place to display it. Since it is political, and not politically correct, this has been slow going.

Responded to a fire in the forest, started by an unattended campfire. Some jackass, too drunk to realize his fire was not out.

Got to use this thing, which is called a Rhino but looks like a hoe.

Put out the fire.

What would Smokey say?



To make sure I kept myself occupied, I signed up for the next level of EMT training which absolutely, positively insures I won't be able to do anything for the next four months except study, go to class, study, study, study.

Why did I think that was a good idea?

I don't remember.

9-1-1

There's an article here about a crisis in Emergency Medical Services. I thought the sidebar held interesting information.

Come to your rescue

"If you want EMTs to arrive in time to save your life, you need to do more than just dial 911 and pray really hard. You also need to heed the findings of a recent study published in Academic Emergency Medicine and take these four steps to eliminate EMS obstacles."

Show the way

"A wrong address is the most common reason emergency services are delayed, according to the study. After you give your address to 911, ask the dispatcher to read it back to you so you can correct any errors they (or you) might have made."

This is misleading. Your phone number reveals your address to Dispatch unless you're on a cell. However, Dispatch only knows what they've been told. If you live on the corner, behind the garage, up the stairs in the back, second door on the right, give some directions or rescuers might spend some time milling around in the yard.

Flip the light on

"The right address won't do the EMTs much good if they can't read your house or apartment number in the dark. Flick on every outside light. And take the time now — before you're clutching your chest — to install reflective house numbers."

My service area is 110 sq miles with over 300 residents. We have two subdivisions* with no posted house numbers and no street signs.** We have a few houses with a street address where there is no access from that street.*** Interesting, no? We have, a couple of times, zeroed in on the house with the lights on, and so far, haven't surprised someone just up for a midnight snack. If I -- someone relatively familiar with the area -- am sometimes confused,**** what chance to the city boys in the ambulance have? Clearly mark your house. Do not wait for local government to do it for you.

X marks the spot

"Tell the dispatcher where you'll be inside the house. You don't want them to waste time on a room-to-room search. Or have someone escort the EMTs to your side; in the study, doing this cut 24 lifesaving seconds off the average rescue time."

This hasn't been a problem for us. Usually, someone is standing on the porch, desperately waving and yelling, "Hurry up!" If you're alone, collapsed in your bedroom, holding your chest with one hand and the portable phone with the other, tell Dispatch where you are, and that you forgot to . . .

Unlock the door

"Obvious? In their panic, a lot of people forget to slide the bolt or turn the key. If you're alone and lose consciousness, the EMTs will have to burn critical minutes trying to break down the door — or doors — to reach you. Give them a clear path."

Yeah, we'll break down the door, but not before we've spent time making sure no one's coming to answer it, and then notifying Dispatch we're about to break into a house.***** You might want us in there sooner than that.

My best advice

Take time to think about an emergency situation before you have one on your hands. Even the smallest consideration of what would I do if this happened -- will work in your benefit should you need help.



*I'm not sure you'd call them subdivisions, more like 20+acre rancherias.
** Montana, last best place to hide out or hole up.
***If I wanted company, I wouldn't have moved out in the middle of god-awful nowhere.
****Not lost, thank-you.
*****Again, hoping we're not about to surprise someone just up for a midnight snack.

You're Breaking My Heart

Just got back from giving a talk for an EMS Crosstraining night with our firemen. My topic was medical emergency.

I asked them, "What is the #1 killer of firemen?"

Heart Attack.

Average age of these heart attack victims?

43.

#1 Killer of Women?

You wanted to say men, didn't you?

Heart Attack.

Average age of these heart attack victims?

70.

Good little screenwriter that I am, I managed to work in mention of film.

Odds are it won't be like in the movies where someone clutches his chest or left arm and hits the deck, dead. Heart attacks can begin as mild discomfort that may be ignored until it's too late.

This is especially true of older women -- that generation who took care of everyone and now doesn't want to be any trouble.

Grandma's having trouble catching her breath? She doesn't want to be any trouble. She'll just sit over there in the corner and not bother anyone while she progresses to a major cardiac event while no one is looking.

Do not ignore these symptoms.

Chest Pain – A sensation at the center of chest that feels like pressure, squeezing or fullness in degrees of mild, which may be mistaken for gas, or crushing, that inhibits breathing.

Pain in the upper body. Can include pain in one or both arms, the back, neck, jaw, or stomach. Back – between the shoulder blades.

Shortness of breath. May be a result of the crushing chest pressure, but may occur before the other symptoms and without pain. Respiratory distress should not be ignored. If you’re having trouble breathing, get help.

Other heart attack symptoms that may be mistaken for mild illness. Nausea, light-headedness, cold sweat, anxiety and fatigue.

Women Are Different From Men.

Surprise!

A woman having a heart attack may present completely different symptoms than a man. They will probably occur without chest pain. These symptoms may be ignored until she is dead.

1 Fatigue.
2 Nausea.
3 Heartburn or indigestion.
4 Shortness of breath.
5 Pain in the jaw, belly, back, shoulder or ring finger.

Remember: the most important medical contribution you may make is to advocate for a woman patient if her “heart attack” symptoms are being ignored.

What EMTs Do On Vacation

One Year Anniversary

I went on my first medical call as an EMT, one year ago today.

Being an EMT, has enlightened me to human behavior in ways, I never would have imagined.

People will mention in passing, something that will kill them, and focus on a symptom that is merely annoying.

People of a certain generation, determined not to be any trouble, will change their story to mimic your expectations, should you be so transparent.

Not everyone is good in an emergency.

Sometimes the nicest thing you can say to a person is, "Help is on the way."