Happy New Year!

Despite some significant lows in the past year I cannot argue the positives.  I feel really good about the upcoming year -- this is my last year of my 30's and I want to approach the second half of my life full of the hopes and dreams that my path to date have managed to shape.  I want so much, not only for myself but for my family as well. 

Chris asked Heidi tonight what she wanted for the new year and her answer?  "I think Tracey should write a book."  Who knows, maybe this year I'll manage it.

Happy New Year to you and yours ... here's to bright thoughts and hopes and dreams.  Welcome to 2008.

And for posterity, here they are in all their glory (Heidi & Owen up top, James & Meredith on the bottom) ...

Where did she go?

As I watch Meredith grow and learn I am sometimes struck hard by the thought that 35 years ago my mother was in the same point of her life.  That she most likely watched me at age 2 and perhaps was filled by the same love and wonder that I am, the indescribable bittersweet anticipation about how she will turn out and if I will do alright as her mother.

I miss my mother.

I wanted to be like my mother.

Not the woman who is there now, consumed in body and spirit by the ravages of her addictions -- but the woman who was.

The woman who would sit and talk about books and authors with me, not the one who hasn't even glanced at the book I'm featured in (even though she's had an author-autographed copy since it was published).

The woman who would tell me I was beautiful and meant it, not the one who laments to others -- "She used to be so beautiful, but she won't lose the weight.  Such a shame."

The woman who told me I could be a writer, or a vet, or anything I wanted to be.  Not the one who drinks her vodka and tap water and tells her friends what a huge disappointment I am because I never got a degree.

The woman who would bring me orange Hi-C and stroke my hair when I had a fever when I was sick, not the one who didn't show up for either of the births of my children or even come to see me when I was confined with high-risk pregnancies.

The woman who could walk into a college, take a course just because it interested her, get an A and walk out again for a year, who faced challenges without blinking an eye -- not the one who faked a stroke just to get me to come see her while she was binging.

The woman who couldn't cook worth a damn but remembered your favorite foods on your birthday or baked your favorite cake, not the one who hasn't remembered either of my children on their birthday.  Not even Meredith's first birthday -- which I think might be a Grandparent cardinal sin.

The woman who I could come to with my boyfriend woes, or speak frankly about sex with -- not the one who feels that I should've married the abusive alcoholic I was with when I was 21.  "He may have been a drunk, but at least James wouldn't be deaf."

Please.  Don't let me be like my mother.

Daywalker

In the Blade series he's referred to as a "Daywalker" -- loosely he has vamp abilities but can move about safely in daylight.  Not ever fully one or the other it's both a benefit and a curse.  That's how I feel right now, I'm uncomfortable in my skin all the time.  I'm in one world by my own choice and due to that choice I don't totally belong to the other one any longer.  I feel distant and isolated, technically I don't even look like myself anymore.  Or at least the self that everyone knows me as.

I like the new role I'm in, but the adjustment is hard on a few levels.  Some weeks it's easier and others not so much.  I'm able to get up at the ungodly hour of 4am and actually get out the door reasonably on time, but by the end of the day I'm just drained.  Getting out at 2pm sounds really good, I should have the rest of the day to be productive.  However so far I'm just too tired by the time I get home and wind down to do much more than prepare for the next day.  It is slowly getting better, I know I can't cancel out 15 years of nights in several weeks, but it's frustrating.  Five days is a lot for someone who's had a three day base for so long, plus the gas hurts.  My boss is letting me tailor a four day schedule at the end of this month, I'm hoping that will help all around.

I am still unsure of myself and my scope of authority.  My boss is a good guy and a strong leader, I would not taken this position if he was not in the role he's in.  He and I went to medic school together, so we've known each other 20 years now.  He's worked hard to get himself where he's at and I can learn a lot from him, though of course he doesn't make it easy.  I left an arena where I was the alpha (and referred to as such), I didn't give myself the nickname of La Reina.  Put me knee deep in body parts among flaming vehicles and I'm in my element, in a board room I find myself becoming shy and reticent.  Big fish in a little pond back scooped up and dropped into one of the Great Lakes.

Even my friends aren't sure where to categorize me.  On the one hand they've been awesomely supportive, insisting that I'm perfect for the job.  Just the other night one crew said to me that now they would respect the QA process, because it's me and if I come to them saying a correction needs to be made, that they'd know it was from someone who knew what they were talking about and wasn't looking to bust balls.  That really really meant a lot.  Yet at the same time, they stop talking at points in the conversation now and look at me in askance as if they're worried I'll turn "boss" and someone will get in trouble.  Another person has to qualify that he wants to talk to "old Tracey" when he wants to talk "normally."  My former partner doesn't really talk to me at all.  She doesn't call or return mine, not even the text messages.  When I finally catch up with her she gives me a bunch of excuses, "We're on different time zones now."  I know how she's feeling, I've been through it a time or two.  I know why it is that this stuff happens, doesn't make it any easier.

Of course the insult to injury is that I actually bring home less money right now.  I knew this was going to happen, it was my biggest fear considering our current financial status.  But it's true, I'm bringing home as much as $300 less a month because I've lost my night differential and overtime.  Now eventually I can make that up because I am allowed to take overtime, but right now I have way too much on my plate in order to manage it.  I'm actually going to have to get a part time medic job, one for the money and two because I want to keep doing patient care.  I left my last per diem medic job back in 2000.  It's just funny, get a promotion, work harder, make less.

I don't mean to be all glum about it either, as I said I like the job.  It's different and it's challenging and I think that if done correctly I will eventually be able to have a positive impact on the department's standards of care.  I don't have the stress of being late or waiting for relief, because unless I have a meeting scheduled I am my own entity.  I have a lot of freedom and my boss trusts me, even though I'm brand new in the job he wants me to find my feet and supports my decisions.  I'm the only female Chief in the department and that's something too.  I don't imagine I will be too popular with some when it comes to remediations and corrective actions, but it's in an area that I feel strongly about -- patient care.  I want us as a department to return to a gold standard, not just a ghetto one.  I think I can help achieve that with where we're at now so long as I am fair and stand my ground.  Long as I have my sunglasses of course ... that yellow orb is vicious!

My kids like the new schedule.  My son loves when I pick him up at the bus stop in my gold badge and all.  They love having me here in the evenings and with weekends off we do family dinners all the time now.  I'm able to sleep so long as I don't ignore bedtime.  If I push past 9:30 though ... night mode kicks in and I have a tough time of it.  I do find that I eat less working days and I don't have any really periods where I'm truly dragging.  With the short work day it seems like just when I'm getting a little tired, it's time to go.  If I can get my time management skills working I'm hoping to get to the gym regularly in the afternoons again, which I think will make a big difference in how I'm feeling.  With Chris still working nights we have to get creative with scheduling our time together but he remains 100% behind the decision to take this job.  I don't think he realizes how much this has meant to me and kept me going.

Financially we're hanging on by the skin of our fingertips.  Just like a lot of people I'm sure I don't know at which point we went flailing past the potential point of no return, but here it is.  All I can do is try to stay positive and control the spending as much as possible, I'm working on some side efforts to help bring in income and I need to face the fact that I may end up having to get over my personal fears and start writing as a means to help my family.  Stephen King couldn't even afford his own phone when he wrote Carrie so I'm sure I'm not the only person in such a boat.  Chris sold off a few things and next stop is Ebay for some of the things collecting dust around here.

The kids are doing great, Heidi is at that awful time where she's a kid stuck in a woman's body.  So long as you dont remind her of it she's pretty happy.  Terribly smart, voracious reader, loves her fantasy and gothic worlds just as much as she enjoys George Orwell and Stephen King.  Still her her horse phase with no interest in hair/skin care or the opposite sex and I have no interest in rushing her.  Owen's overall attitude is better since Chris worked with him over the summer, they take mixed martial arts classes and he's been doing all his homework thus far.  He even admitted to me last night that he actually likes coming here, with his big snaggle-toothed grin. 

James is speaking so well and still loves school.  His teacher's stricter than last year and she and I don't communicate as much or as well as his kindergarten teacher BUT the results are good.  He can read and write and is doing well with math.  He has his "best friends" Brody and Willow and can usually at least tell me some things he does during the day.  We have him in Irish stepdancing class now.  Ok ... stop chuckling.  ;)  I wanted him in a dance like tap, because the percussion is easy for him to follow.  Turns out there's a decent Irish school right in town so over the summer we gave it a shot.

He's a complete spaz with bricks for feet but slowly but surely he's getting the hang of it and he loves it.  He's the only boy in his class with all these blond and red-headed gazelles who just fawn over him.  His favorite tutor is Lindsay, one of the champion dancers.  She's got legs a mile long and long blond hair and adores him.  As his teacher pointed out, "When he's a little older he may hate you."  She looks around the room at the girls and grins, "When he's a LOT older, he'll love you."  I have to agree.

Meredith.  What can I say about her besides the fact she is evil incarnate.  Yes Tribanin, she trumps James for pure evilness.  Why?  Because she also has this wicked sense of humor and is totally deliberate in her mischief.  She's fully aware of her own charms and uses them to her advantage and in her defense.  And I can honestly say she does look like me, except for the riotous mass of blonde curls atop her head.

We went to Quiet Valley last weekend for their Harvest Festival, an 18th century recreationalist farm not far from here.  (www.quietvalley.org)  The kids ate homemade pretzels and shoo-fly pie, decorated pumpkins and threw corncob darts.  They learned about beekeeping and cheesemaking and watching the Civil War regiment work with their rifles. 

As I watched the four of them sit quietly together listening to a candlemaker, I smelled the nearby woodsmoke and noticed the turning leaves surrounding them.  I'm reminded not only about how much I love autumn each year, but that my own autumn is coming as well -- and I'm really proud of my harvest.

Into the breach ... one last time

Sometimes all that glitters, really IS gold ... much like the badge they just handed me.

Several months back I had mentioned applying for a promotion.  After going through alot of soul searching, three torturous interviews and much personal angst -- the hospital took away the position due to budget, four hours before the pick was supposed to be made official.  I took that as a sign and went back to my life and career as it was.

Now that the hospital's recovered, a couple of months ago they re-opened the position and approved it as a permanent position for the department.  This time around it was only two torturous interviews and a moderate amount of personal angst.  The rest has been a whirlwind.

I got the promotion, I am now the Training Supervisor in charge of QA/PI (quality assurance / performance improvement).  Basically I'm the clinical educator you see if there are problems or if training/remediation needs to be developed.  I have a workstation in headquarters and my own seperate office.  My own office, name on the door (eventually) and everything.

My schedule changes effective this coming Monday -- weekdays for now, reasonable hours, flexible.  I don't have to wait for relief or worry if I'm a few minutes late.  If my kid has an appointment or I need to do something during the day, I just change my schedule.  For the first couple of months I am supposed to work 5 days a week until I'm settled, after that I can adjust it how I prefer.  It's days, but if I start at 6am I'm out by 2pm.  That means I get home in time to pick up my son from the bus and spend the balance of the afternoon and evening with my children.  Plus I will get to have family dinner and put them to bed each night.

I get holidays off, damn.  Now what I am going to use an excuse to get out of FFF (forced family fun)!

This really is an enormous change for me, probably the biggest one of my adult life.  Yes yes, marriage, children, house, I was able to evolve with that.  But being a street medic is what I do, it's been part of who I am for two decades now.  I cannot fathom that I don't have to put on the uniform Saturday night and go to work.  That I will have to worry about traffic and parking, with a whole new sea of faces to become accustomed to.  That I will go to bed at a "normal" time and won't be up and chatty at 3am for no good reason.  That I have my own fax and voice mail, a staff of two and folks calling me "Chief."  I can't lie and say I'm not overwhelmed and half-tempted to scurry back into the anonymity of the box.

Everyone has been really supportive and I was actually surprised by the sincere happiness and complimentary comments I've gotten at the news.  It's been very bittersweet, knowing that I have to leave some of them and that my relationships will change.  Some of the ER nurses cried when I told them, others jumped up and down for me and one or two cussed me out for leaving them.  I at least had one last night with my partner and my team.

I am a superstitious creature by nature, nobody can do the job that I have for as long as I have -- and not realize that there are more things under Heaven and Earth than one can shake a stick at.  So I do tend to read into things, looking for omens and portents.  After I found out that I'd gotten the promotion a few things happened, someone crashed "my" ambulance, my belt cracked and ... my boots broke.  I have never had that happen before, the heel weld came undone and was just hanging from the boot.  All I can garner from this is that perhaps I should take the freakin' hint and realize that it's alright to move on and accept the change.

I made Chris fix my boots with Gorilla glue so that I could wear them one last time.  Once more, into the breach ...

Wednesday night was fairly painless as far as work goes, but internally it was excruciatingly poignant.  I kept thinking about, "this is the last time this" or "won't have to do this anymore."  Charlene and I managed to keep up brave faces, but she's one of my best friends and we've been full-time partners for two years now.  Anyone who's worked in a related field knows how strong a partner relationship can be and saying good-bye to that was awful.  The dispatchers final gift was to make sure I did practically no work, I guess so that I'd have time with everyone.  They evenly dispersed my assignments to other units, or the other guys picked them up voluntarily (even when I tried).  At midnight they called everyone back to headquarters where as tradition dictates they had a "surprise" cake waiting for me.  Char tried to fib about why we had to go back, but ... duh.  A couple of the other Chiefs were there and one took my arm in his and escorted me into the conference room, instructing me that he did not want to see tears.

There in that room that hasn't really changed in 20 years, stood a couple of dozen people -- some of which who I've spent half of my life with.  They clustered around a simple decorated chocolate cake that had my new assignation on it in big colored frosting, "Congratulations 419!" They applauded me and I was doing alright, until Charlene spoke up.  She thanked me and told me that it was because of me that she'd turned out as good a medic as she had, and that she'd miss me.  And naturally once the tears started they made sure to take lots of pictures, the bastards.  The other Chief spoke up about his memories of me and the group lapsed into reminiscing about old times and the people gone before.  All throughout assignments kept coming in and folks would go in and out, I noticed this because it reminds me of the nature of the business.  It really doesn't matter that I'm leaving, the jobs will still come in and folks will still go to them.  The world does not halt for me or because of me, there are plenty of others that will come after who will make their own unique marks.  Yes, I know I'm not leaving the department, but just because I'm there does not mean I'm still *there*.

The sun came up as it always does, the shifts changed and the next tour went to work.  Charlene and I sat outside and watched the business, not looking at each other too much because doing so made us glassy-eyed and we were determined to avoid a breakdown.  I passed her my scissors, the red-handled trauma shears with an oxygen key attached that come with me to work every night.  Told her that they were the keys to the Kingdom and that I'd taught her all I could, it was her job to be the alpha female now and make sure folks do the right thing.  Then the day went on without us.

I hope that I do a good job, I think I will and I am looking forward to the change and the challenge.  It doesn't make this any less difficult or less emotional for me.  Charlene put it best in talking to a frightened patient we were working on one night.

"Don't worry.  This isn't just our job, it's what we do."

It's what I do.  I'm not sure what it is I *do* now, but hopefully I'll be able to make it my own.

New day, new breach to travel into.

Vignettes

These are actual quotes from last night with my children:

"There will be no making an Aztec sacrifice of your brother right after dinner.  That's rude."

"Why is this laundry hamper set up as a box trap for the baby?"

"Yes honey, I agree that Vlad the Impaler was an "influential person" of the 15th Century, but I can understand why your Social Studies teacher won't let you do a report on him. ... No, I don't know where my book on the Black Death is, try the garage."

I am quite proud of my handiwork. ;)