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.