Archives: December 2008
Once again, another incredible edition of Change of Shift over at Nurse Ratched’s Place.
The New Year’s edition will be hosted here! So, start working on that New Year’s resolution of no longer procrastinating . . .
Get me your posts—- emily at crzegrl dot net —- sooner rather than later!
Deadline for those who would rather make eating right and losing weight their resolution?
January 6th 12 noon EST.
The moment I read the post title, which simply said something about a New Jersey trauma surgeon dying in Iraq, I knew I would be in mourning when I was fully awake. I hadn’t even read his name and my intuition was going off.
Dr. Pryor is a trauma-critical care surgeon at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. He completed medical school and general surgery training at the University of Buffalo, in Buffalo New York, and completed fellowship training in trauma surgery and critical care at the University of Pennsylvania. He is currently the Trauma Program Director for the Trauma Center at Penn, and the Director of the Office of Life Support education for the Division of Trauma. Dr. Pryor is also a Major in the United States Army Reserve Medical Corps. He served two active duty tours as the trauma surgeon for the 344th Combat Support Hospital in Abu Ghraib Iraq during 2006, and then with the 1st Forward Surgical Team (FST), in 2008.
John P. Pryor, M.D.
Trauma and Surgical Critical Care
Major John P. Pryor, M.D. was a prominent trauma surgeon at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. MAJ Pryor, while serving in Iraq, died on Christmas Day during a mortar attack.
Dr. Pryor, I would realize later, was a guest lecturer for my Acute Care NP program, and spent time with us in the lab teaching central lines and chest tubes. It was unnerving to find photos of Dr. Pryor among those I took during my time at Penn, finally understanding why the post title, read in the middle of the night, struck a chord.
Invasive Procedure Lab with Dr. Pryor
UPenn, Adult Acute Care NP class of 2004
Dr. Pryor (left)
Me (center) with hands raised
after successful chest tube placement
Although I did not know Dr. Pryor personally, his confidence in the classroom and his approachability made the sections he taught some of my favorites. His death is a loss for the students he taught, the patients he treated, the staff he worked with, and the soldiers he served with.
My thoughts go out to his family, Army unit and professional colleagues.
Story at MSNBC.com here.
Story at MyFox Philadelphia with video here.
“I don’t believe in coincidences . . . I believe in the curly ‘q’ whimsy of fate. After all, everything’s connected”
Sam Tyler (character) Life on Mars
A few weeks ago while at the unit, I held the door for SFC Rick Simmons. My eyes were immediately drawn to his combination Army Aviation Badge, and Combat Medical Badge. Of course, I had to ask, and in the process made the acquaintance of a fellow former Army Flight Medic who flew in support of OIF not once, but twice.
Although his story of quiet heroism isn’t necessarily rare, what he did in his downtime on deployment is. When he wasn’t flying in to provide medical care, SFC Simmons and CPT Pete Huggins created Original Java, a coffee shop in the middle of Iraq.
Rick and Pete flew lifesaving MEDEVAC missions throughout the Iraqi desert. They also shared a common goal; to boost morale and provide respite from the daily grinds of war. Their vision, “Original Java”, became an oasis in the desert, an espresso cigar bar serving coffee, frozen smoothies, and a much-needed dose of sanity. Now back stateside, “OJ” has evolved into an e-commerce coffee shop adorned with “Project Dustoff”. “OJ” is a small family-owned & operated e-commerce business offering superior gourmet, organic, fair trade coffees and teas.
Their story is an incredible example of soldier ingenuity and creativity. The impressive part is that they have brought the spirit of Original Java home with that same ingenuity creating Project DUSTOFF, which is dedicated to helping wounded service members and their families. Part of the proceeds from every bag of Project DUSTOFF coffee goes to the cause.
It isn’t a stretch to see why the spirit of their company is close to my heart. Anyone who has sacrifice for my freedom, supports soldiers, the DUSTOFF community, and sells coffee from my home state deserves a post, a link on my sidebar, and my gratitude.
I consider myself fortunate to have run into SFC Simmons, and excited to be witness to the broad reach that his time in Iraq will have on the Army community, lasting much beyond his tours overseas.
Oh, and I no longer believe in coincidences.
DUSTOFF!
A brief history of DUSTOFF.
Why do I feel the need to write that my home computer system is all back up and running? Because I am still in my pajamas, looking at an outside temperature of approximately 14 degrees and am full of accomplishment. My new modem/router, wireless printer, three computers and AirTunes (AirPort Express) are working in harmony. Now if only my CAC reader would decide to miraculously function. Leave it to the Army.
My Little Computer Family
So, Strong One—I am attempting to live up to your expectations.
Epi Girl? Just thought you would be happy to know that Santa has my blog in his RSS feed list. I’m not going to guarantee he will bring you a Livescribe pen though!
Anyhoo . . . the real reason for this post. I’m working on updating my blogroll and wanted to ask, who else I have forgotten to add? Let me know if you have me on your sidebar so I can list you on mine. (Yes! Let the ‘I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours” jokes commence!)
No matter how long I have blogged I always find myself going back to pen and paper. Many times this is for convenience as it just isn’t useful to lug my beloved PowerBook G4 everywhere. Mostly, however, it just feels right to have a pen in my hand, scratching my thoughts down in a way which allows for a conscious thought flow.
Here is where the commercial begins.
Last night, I finally bought my Livescribe pen. I have drooled over this little gadget for almost 2 years. This link (really, CLICK HERE because it is so cool!) is the original composition of this post; bad handwriting, miss-spellings and scratch outs. The audio you here was recorded with the same pen and synced automatically. The most exciting to part for this nerd girl? The hand writing to text feature. No more blog posts forgotten in a notebook, well written but never transcribed.
Unfortunately, much to my Mac loving dismay, the software will not run on my pre-Intel Mother board computers. Also, the handwriting to text is not available for Macs at this time.
BUT! Before you PC/Microsoft lovers out there start with your Mac bashing comments–my computers are over 5 years old and are still running without a hitch.
I am so excited to have found another way to say. Now I have zero excuse not to keep it up to date.
And I thought my job had weird moments!
13 hours with no iPhone.
No email. No FaceBook. No Twitter. No text messages. Pathetic, I know. Prior to leaving this morning at 0610, I had received 10+ messages from Twitter/Utterli/email. Seriously. Can you say Xanax?
After whining at work and hearing at least two people express their surprise at my “missing appendage” I decided it was necessary to make some phone calls and let people know I was not dead. Ummmm….but all the phone numbers were in my phone. *sigh*
As I was coming down from the panic, I came across this article on MSNBC and thought it appropriate for today. However, I would take it one step further as their would be no choice in the matter. They will have to pry my iPhone out of my cold dead hand!
In the midst of many complicated and intense life milestones, I was scheduled to speak at the Air Medical Transport Conference in Minneapolis. With all that was whirling in my life, another trip was not a welcome addition to my schedule.
Schedule for the
auditorium I lectured in
For those of you unfamiliar with AMTC, it is the conference for the air medical transport community. Exhibit hall was littered with state of the art helicopters and ambulances. There was a constant swirl of new faces, lectures, flight suits, and business cards. My apprehension at attending diminished slightly as I met some of the finest minds in HEMS research and military transport circles. Those in attendance represented the best of nurses, pilots, paramedics, communicators and physicians in the medical field. I realized, almost immediately, how lucky I was to be included among their numbers.
During the first few days of the conference, an intense group of flight suit clad individuals stood out, traveling in pairs through the crowd, sporting game faces. I noticed one particularly serious paramedic headed to various stations of the METI competition. I was drawn to his bald headed, goatee sporting, confident swagger from across the room. While his aura brushing mine was perceptible, I was completely unaware of the difference he was to make on who I am as a flight nurse.
(l-r) Mark, Flight Paramedic
Jason, Flight Nurse
Mercy Air METI Team
Unfortunately, other than this particular paramedic, not much else registered with me the first few days of the conference as my apprehension remained quite high. I was wrapped up about giving my pelvic fracture lecture which seemed like a great idea a few months prior when I submitted it for consideration.
Me speaking
The day after I successfully survived my unwarranted stress and actually giving the lecture, I spent hours enjoying showing off our aircraft, in exhibit hall. Toward the end of the day, I decided to take a break and stroll through the booths walking tall in my flight suit.
As I passed the METI competition stage, he had his back to me, engaged in a relaxed conversation with some of his co-workers. As with everyone else whom I had passed, I walked by and said hi before realizing, for the first time consciously, that he was the same intense paramedic I was drawn to from afar. As my greeting jumped from my mouth, he stopped, turned mid-sentence, and stuck his hand out. “Hi,” grinning in his easy way, “I’m Mark.”
Mark in competition mode
I don’t put much stock in destiny, or fate, but now, almost two months later, I think I could be convinced otherwise.
Since that first, simple, conversation, we have spent countless hours discussing, debating, and brainstorming about our chosen profession. Pathophysiology, kinetics, homeostasis, equipment, management, flight safety . . . the topics are a continuous stream of consciousness that bounce and carry over for sometimes days. Mainly, it seems, I sit with my eyes and ears open as I have learned more in five minutes absorbing his knowledge, than I have in weeks worth of lecture or clinical.
Mark in his element
Talking to someone and seeing them in their element, however, are sometimes two entirely different experiences. With Mark one simply flows into the other. Just a few short weeks after our chance meeting, I found myself hot off loading an aircraft with Mark and his partner at a hospital in Southern California. Two shifts working with him in his world cemented my opinion of Mark and my admiration for his professionalism.
Me (white helmet in aircraft)
taking a photo of Mark taking a photo of me
My last day in San Diego intensified these opinions as we spent the morning walking along the beach, engrossed in yet another profession based discussion. In this conversation, he allowed me to see just how deeply the passion in which he approaches flight medicine is intertwined with who he is at his very core. His words rendered me speechless. He described that which I had been searching for but unable to completely capture.
Mark’s passion for flying, for medicine, is not just lip service because it is an exciting job. He loves it for what it is. A profession in which he aggressively grasps every chance to make a difference.
Not the chance to save a life.
No.
The chance to give someone an extra two minutes of living for the family. The chance for a tragically lost life to carry over as a gift of organ donation. The opportunity to challenge the next generation of EMTs to excel by using his status as a flight paramedic to snag their attention and imagination for a few short minutes.
He knows saving a life will happen, when fate deems it so.
Flying isn’t about credentials, or classes, or certifications, or degrees. It is about possessing the passion necessary to continuously choose the path less traveled. In flight medicine, that particular path isn’t less traveled because it is unknown. It is less traveled because it is the difficult one. The one that requires you to make ten times the effort of your peers. The one in which you must sacrifice a part of yourself to each patient. The one in which you instinctively reach for medications and tubes without hesitation or indecision because you trained that much harder. The path down which you able to confidently act when faced with a mother screaming for you to save her child while they hover near death.
He didn’t simply choose path less traveled expecting a final destination. Mark thrives on the journey itself, knowing that to experience the journey is to capture the essence of flight medicine.
Many of you have asked what it takes to be part of this profession.
He showed me what it means to be part of this profession.
Each of us have defining moments in our careers.
It seems that I have found one of mine.
Mercy Air Flickr set here.
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