☆ October 11, 2011
This morning, I drove the ambulance on a call for the first time. I didn’t want to. The PRESSURE! Not just one life to be responsible for, but three! The patient’s, my partner’s, and mine. And everyone else on the road, for that matter. And the rig is huge ~ it’s an off-road, 4WD, mountain ambulance. I sat straight up in the driver’s seat, clenching my abs so that the rest of me – mind and body – would not be so tense.
Five minutes in, I was loving it. Lights flashing, I sped by two highway patrol. Cars, trucks, and semis slowed and parted in deference. I didn’t even have to wait at the wretched construction zone ~ the flaggers waved me through, and the pilot car, midway through a one-lane-only stretch, pulled his string of vehicles over to the shoulder as I zipped by unhindered. This, I thought, is what it must be like to be Mick Jagger.
Driving back from the hospital, I was relegated to “normal person” status: no patient, no lights flashing. I was alone – my partner stayed in town to go linoleum shopping with her husband – and while I was sitting, waiting, waitingggg at the construction zone, I found a camera in a side pocket of the ambulance. And I took pictures. And then I fixed the date. It hasn’t been 2010 for a while.
And when I got back to the ambulance barn, I backed that baby in. She’s just a tiny bit crooked.