Quiet. Professional. Ambulance Drivers
It is common knowledge that EMTs and paramedics say they have a thick skin. They tell their trainees and students that they need to develop a thick skin to survive in EMS. But you know what, those same sage-like EMTs and paramedics passing down that free career advice are the first people to lose their shit when someone call’s them an “ambulance driver.” Whether it’s the general public, a reporter or other media outlet these providers take it personally. They take to social media, memes are posted and I can only speculate that they apply some type of salve is in an attempt to heal said supposed thickened skin. Why? What happened to being the quiet professionals we like to tell everybody that we are? Yes, we LOUDLY tell others that we are quiet professionals. We do, right? On that rare occasion that someone says, “Thank you” we say, “Just doing my job.” We tell each other that, “I didn’t get into this job to be in the newspaper or the 6 o’clock news” but when that low angle rescue we were on makes the back of Page 8, we’re the first to clip it for the “I Love Me” wall even if all you can make out is the right arm of your turnout coat in the crowd of other rescuers on the scene.
Are our collective egos that fragile that we need it known that we are EMTs or paramedics with “x” amount of hours of training and such-and-such degrees? I don’t have any scientific proof to back it up but if we are not resilient enough to bounce back from being called an “ambulance driver” maybe that’s why provider suicide and mental health is on the rise. If we can’t cope with the public’s misunderstanding of our job then how do we cope with all the nasty shit we see on people’s worst days? Quiet. Professional. The literal term means: Do your job. Do it consistently. Do it reliably. Do it quietly. The rest is all bullshit. It’s not about you. It’s about being part of something bigger than yourself. Helping others. Serving your community. Being there for your partner and your team. Driving the profession. Do you really think the 70-year-old filled to her clavicles with pulmonary edema gives half a shit if you’re a paramedic, crew chief, critical care paramedic, certified flight paramedic, field training officer or any other number of titles or letters bestowed upon your collar in shiny brass or colorful patches and rockers that adorn your shirt sleeves when you come through the door at 3 am; guess what, she doesn’t. Will you not give your maximum effort to save someone if you are called an “ambulance driver” by a bystander on the scene? Shake that shit off, forgive the person who said it, forgive yourself for being too wrapped up in titles that you lost focus on the sick person who needs your help and then get back in the saddle and do your job. Life-saving is a serious business! Have I corrected patients: Ab-so-lute-ly. Do I lose my mind when I get referred to as an ambulance driver: nope? There are bigger problems in EMS. If medics and EMTs spent half as much time seeking out education and training to make themselves better, smarter and stronger as a clinician as they do demanding that people know their job title and understand the intricacies of the job, well then EMS wouldn’t be the half the shit show it usually is.
Carry on. Remember: Consistently. Reliably. Quietly.
