The past few weeks have been ones in which I have questioned my skills and ability to do my job. The more I am exposed to what I need to do, the more I realize I don’t know. My cardiology experience is pathetic. My exposure to pediatrics isn’t much better.

For the first time in my life I am truly questioning my ability to walk into a horrible scene and have the knowledge, skills, and balls to give my patient exactly what they need to save their life.

This self doubt has bounced around both my conscious and my subconscious over the past few weeks. I ponder it while driving back and forth to work. I look at my nieces and nephews wondering if I could save them. It has driven me to read/learn/memorize even more.

“The moment you are no longer scared when the mission bell rings, is the moment you need to quit flying.” This advice, given a long time ago, batters around in my head. There is no chance of that. Every time the phone rang during my last shift, I got jarred from a pitiful sleep with an adrenalin rush.

I fell asleep last night reading the paramedic text which will be my bible for the next two weeks.

I woke feeling a sense of peace. I dreamt of Danny who reminded me that he taught me what I needed to know, and in his own way that he loved me.

Although it is strange to feel peace from a dream of a long dead young man whom I knew best when we were both children, he is right.

He did teach me what I need to know.