EMT drop-out

In the middle of February, my mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer, and she died on the last day of March. When she was diagnosed, I made the decision to drop out of my EMT program, knowing I would miss more than the two days allowed. I was, in fact, out of town for four out of six weeks during this time period, and maintaining my presence in the class, even for auditing, would have been impossible.

I don't regret the decision, and in fact know that it was the only reasonable decision to make, but it is a loss nonetheless. I thought of my class, my instructor, and my classmates frequently. I was also grateful for the education I'd already gotten in the class, as abbreviated as it was. I understood more about my mother's condition, felt more comfortable and confident discussing various issues with medical personnel, and in general was not fearful asking questions and receiving answers. It is awful watching a loved one die, no matter what the circumstances, but for me, even with just the limited medical background I had, I felt more prepared, less panicked, by the deterioration of my mother's health. And because I was less panicked, I was much better able to be a comfort to my mother, to be of some use to her as well as to the nursing staff we had hired to care for her at home.

Since I've been back in Michigan (my mother died at her home in Massachusetts), I have been in contact with several of my EMT classmates on Facebook. They are taking their exams, their practicals and written, and finishing up their clinicals. I am seething with jealousy. I am so very proud of them, but wish I were one of them.

Everything happens for a reason. My family and I are relocating to the West Coast in less than two months, where I will begin a new journey. Perhaps that will be the subject for a whole new blog.