Whole New World

What an amazing day. I am exhausted and energized and excited and euphoric. I woke up nervous and unsure, grumpy and defensive. When I went to the campus bookstore yesterday to purchase goggles and a uniform sweatshirt, I stood in line behind 2 EMS students who were young and knowledgeable, having obviously been through the basic program already. They seemed confident and sure of themselves, and appeared to be buddies in the program. They were also young enough that I could easily have been their mother. I also determined that their combined body weight would probably come in somewhere around my single weight. I suddenly felt all my enthusiasm and motivation pour out of me. What was I doing? What was I thinking? What in God's name made me think I could do this, would enjoy it, would find it anything but humiliating and demoralizing?

So I woke up out of sorts, not sure what I was getting into, and telling myself I could just do my work, keep my head down, get what I could from the program, and move on. It didn't help that I couldn't figure out where to park, or even how to get into the building once I did park--the campus is labyrinthine, and basically hell for someone like me who has absolutely no sense of direction.

But on my way in, I ended up walking in with a young woman who was also on her way to the class. She knew exactly where she (and therefore I) was supposed to go, and we went together. I had another moment of panic when we walked into the classroom at 8:50 for a 9:00 class and the room was already filled with students. Before I could stop myself, I gasped to her, "Oh my God, are we late?" (Being late is an even more serious rule violation than messing up the uniform.) But she replied, "No, we're not late."

We found seats toward the back, though I'd told myself I'd want to sit near the front in order to help my focus, and not have to worry about seeing the board or the screen. We were soon joined by a young woman who could only be described as perky; her hair was pulled back in a long red ponytail, her round face was adorably freckled, and she was not completely in uniform. She sat right down, introduced herself, and we began to chat. (I know you will think I am making it up when I say it turns out that she is a cheerleading coach.)

Then it started. The information, the rules, the guidelines. I looked around surreptitiously and noticed several people not in full uniform. We were told there'd be a "line-up" every day, starting today, during which our uniforms would be looked over. Interestingly, it never happened, but we've been told it will for sure on Thursday. I imagine there were quite a few relieved students in that room. And I didn't care that other students "got away with" not having their uniforms when I made sure I had mine because it was well worth it for me not to spend the whole day dreading the moment of the line-up.

Our instructor is a woman, which is not what I expected but which is comforting and inspiring. (There are 32 students in the class, and 6 of us are female.) She is also my age or a little older, but she's been in the business for a couple of decades at least, and I am by far the oldest student. Well, there's one man who might be my age, or it could just be that he hasn't aged well and looks older than he is.

We have assigned seats: a little disappointing because the two women and I were enjoying sitting near one another. I ended up sitting at the end of a row, which is nice, and closer to the front, which is also nice, but next to a man who didn't read the rule about avoiding too much cologne. I thought about starting a conversation with him because his last name is a name we came very close to calling our first son, but thought I might not want to start harping on the fact that I'm old enough to have kids, at least not this early in the semester.

There will be quizzes every day (classes are twice a week) and homework assigned every day, as well. Fridays are free lab days which means anyone can come in and practice lab skills. We're also allowed to bring equipment home, including mannequins, in order to practice, as long as they get brought back the following Monday. (I'm thinking that could have proved amusing over the Halloween weekend.)

I'm nervous about the quizzes and the exams, the practicals and the clinicals. What I think I may be most nervous about are the things over which I have no control--such as arriving late one day because one of the boys is sick, or having to miss a day of class because I am sick or because my husband has to be out of town and something requires that I be home. I don't want to miss anything, and I don't want to be late; I don't want any "blue slips" or "green slips."

But I loved my first day. I enjoyed the other students with whom I got to interact, I was fascinated by the anecdotes the instructor offered, I liked being challenged by bagging and giving compressions to a plastic dummy (which I need help with--had it been a real patient, he'd be long dead by now, thanks to me). I loved the morbid jokes that go flying around, that are not just tolerated but embraced by the experienced staff who explained that it's a great way to handle the stress of working with death and injuries day in and day out.

I can't wait until Thursday.