Confessions and Ghosts

 

For those of you who have known me for a while, you know that if I get rattled, especially at work, I’ll rarely show it.  I laugh things off, make jokes and do magic tricks, its how I cope, most of the time.  Sometimes though, things carry with you.  I’m not immune to what I do.  I do bring things home with me and I have my “ghosts”.  I’ve been realizing more and more recently that it is getting harder and harder to hide everything, whether it is an injury or just feeling out of sorts.  Lately, things have really rattled me.

 

When I talk about ghosts, I’m not talking about a haunting spirit in the traditional sense.  My ghosts exist within my mind.  They’re the images and voices of calls (both while on duty and occasionally while assisting off duty) that don’t let you forget.  I still remember the face of my first patient, over 5 years ago, I can still tell you his vital signs, what happened and the fear I felt.  In the end, he had a few bumps and bruises, but his ghost haunts me.  I can still see his face, I can still feel the panic and fear that comes with the “First call”.  He doesn’t haunt me often, and its not an overly negative experience, its just the “First”.  I’m not quite so lucky with others.  Over the years, as expected in this line of work, I have been a party to death.  There is something very eerie about knowing that you are “Bearing Witness”, you’re watching somebody’s last breath, you were the last person they saw.  These things stay with you for the rest of your life.  Pleas of a dying young man, not wanting to leave his mother alone, the silence of a child lost far too young, the heart wrenching agony of a family that lost their grandmother.  These things don’t ever go away. 

 

I don’t walk around all the time with strange feelings and voices.  Quite far from it, actually, most of the time these things are about as far from thought as they could get.  Every so often though, something happens that reminds you.  You begin to remember these things, the ghosts come back. Sometimes when you close your eyes to sleep, you see the faces and hear the cries.  Its not an easy thing to deal with.  Eventually you get used to it, eventually the voices are quieter, the faces fade, but never truly gone.  As old ones fade, new ones appear, every year brings something new.

 

I recently had an uncanny experience.  While transporting a patient who was terminally ill, I realized that he bore an incredible resemblance to one of my relatives.  He looked and sounded like a cousin of mine (who is also of somewhat ill health) and it rattled me.  Seeing the doppelganger of a relative lying on your cot can bring into question your whole existence and purpose.  I wish I was exaggerating the impact that an even like this can have, but sadly, for a number of days afterwards I was questioning my choice of work.  In the end I let it pass from my mind, but these things never go away completely.  Shards of every call and experience accumulate in piles deep within the psyche. 

 

It has been a few weeks since I began to write this, and as I re-read to finish it, I still feel similar feelings, though not as deep, but I do begin to wonder if all of this is just a dream, or if I’m just crazy.

Respect

 

I had the great misfortune today of being told that I’m a dumb kid.  It wasn’t told to me in such blunt and straightforward manner, rather, through a systematic deconstruction and critique of my life choices.  This has lead me to a simple question.  How old do I have to be before I am accepted as a fully functioning human being and as such are respected by fellow adults. 

Today’s saga began with a rejection letter from Saskatchewan Student Loans.  I was told that I had too many assets that could be disposed of, so therefore, I didn’t qualify for a loan.  There are a lot of calculations, legalities and complex financial processes that are still a mystery to me, so I can’t totally explain why I was rejected, but I can give the basics. 

I bought a car this spring.  After my last car had some major transmission and cooling problems, and I was unsure if I would be able to make it to and from work without a tow truck, the decision was made that I needed something newer and more reliable.  As an EMT, getting to work is important, not just because I have a job and I need to be there, but sometimes my not being there can cost people lives.  A little dramatic I know, but I think you follow my meaning.  I paid a good price for the vehicle, but, being the second owner, I lose a significant amount of resale value the second I sign the paperwork for it, so it is now worth less then the amount it is financed for (as is the norm with vehicles). 

Saskatchewan Student Loans told me that my car is worth too much and I should sell it and take the profits to pay for my education.  A noble idea, but, unfortunately, it doesn’t work.  If I sell the vehicle, I’ll stand to lose about $2500 due to the depreciation of the vehicle at point of sale to me.  

When I got my letter, I called and asked what I can do next, and they said because it is so close to the school year (it starts today), they would be willing to let me sit down with somebody to discuss an appeal and possibly approve me right away.  This is where my issues began. 

My process began with a “can I help you?” in a rather surly and sarcastic tone.  I gave her my name, my paperwork and my drivers license.  She looked and asked where my Schedule 1 form was.  The Schedule 1 is the form that you get when you are approved, which I was not.  I said I did not get one, and she told me to come back when I did, that nothing could be done until I had one. I pointed to the letter in front of me that said that I wouldn’t get a Schedule 1, because I didn’t qualify at all.  She seemed unhappy that I didn’t simply vacate her office, so the process continued. 

I was asked why I believed I was special.  In those very words.  I simply said that I was unsure the calculations were correct and that my current assets were not liquid, and I was unable to secure funding if I did attempt to liquidate them.  She rolled her eyes and asked what I meant by that.  I stated that I was unable to sell my vehicle for a profit as it had been recently financed and purchased, so therefore there would be no leverage-able asset value within the vehicle.  She simply told me that if I cared about my education I wouldn’t have spent so much money on a car.

I was unhappy.  I was very unhappy, but I was still diplomatic and I explained my situation, as to the need for a reliable vehicle and such.  She told me that it was my problem that I worked elsewhere and that there are plenty of jobs within the city that I could be doing that did not require similar transportation, if I was too “important” to purchase a more “reasonable” vehicle.  My car was just over $10,000, I didn’t find that to be unreasonable in the least. 

The conversation began to turn into a lecture.  I was lectured for 20 minutes about how I should have planned better and that since I have a job I should be saving for school and not wasting my money (on trivial things like food and rent), and that being a casual employee was no excuse for not finding full time work like all the other good little girls and boys out there.  I was told that I was wasting taxpayers money and that I really had no right to burden the average Saskatchewanian with an education I didn’t really care about. 

I was mad.  Fortunately, I am lucky enough to have a backup source of lending to pay for this semester of school, but I was angry.  On my way home, as I wondered what I did wrong, I realized, I was toast from the moment I walked in the door. 

This lead to my question.  I figure for 24 years old I’m doing alright.  Living on my own for 5 years, engaged to be married next year, good job, good life and a fair contribution to society.  It also made me wonder about other people I deal with and the respect I get.  I thought the choices I made were reasonable.  I’m not saying that I did everything right, I probably could have worked more in the summer, I probably could have found a way to save more, but things were tight for the most part because of the expenses that life throws at you. 

I wonder when I’ll have reached the magic age in adulthood when I will be respected as an adult.  I know that if maturity is a factor, I’m getting close, yes, I have fun now and again, yes, sometimes I do enjoy things that are “immature and frivolous” but I think I live in a fairly good fashion. 

I get respect at work, mostly because of the uniform and everything it stands for.  I don’t have to fight to be respected because its for the most part implied.  I don’t mind sometimes that my life choices are questioned, its good for a person, it keeps you thinking about your direction and how to make things better.  What does bother me is the assumption that I’m young so I don’t know any better.  I don’t like having to fight for equal respect, I respect people, regardless of age, the same way I would like to be respected until such a time that a variance is indicated.  I don’t know if I’m just an idealist, nor do I know if I’m just plain crazy, but I’m 24 years old and I’m an EMT, I’m not some dumb kid anymore.

Pants: The odyssey of a Fat Man.

 

So there I stood in the largest mall in North America.  I needed some new pants.  For Reference, I measure the following:

Waist: 39 3/8” (actual) 40 (size)

Inseam: 31 7/16 (actual) 32 (size)

I was happy I was in a mall that was this massive, it meant I had choice, I had options, I could get something stylish.  And then, it hit me.  I’m too fat for pants. 

I’m not grossly overweight, I carry a beer gut but I’m in relatively good shape otherwise. I’m a size 40 for the most part, small variances may lead me to buying a size 38, but right now 40 is what I’m looking for.  You would think that with all of these documentaries and studies about the nation being overweight that it would be easy for a fat man to find clothes, think again…

There are Big and Tall stores, but, most of them start at a 42” waist, where “Traditional” retail seems to leave off (occasionally at large department stores up to a 46” can be found).  Unfortunately, there is a gap that is forming. 

I’ll start off with a list of stores, these stores are not fat-man friendly, no, these stores are built for skinny people and skinny people only, occasionally you’ll find a pair of pants up to a 38, but they aren’t cut for a big guy, they’re a supersized version of some emo-kid’s ass-huggers.

The List:

Gap, H&M, America, Calvin Klein, Underground, lululemon, Le Chateau, Buffalo, Lacoste, Abercrombie and Fitch, Hollister and Zara. 

I walk right past these stores because I know, nothing fits.  These are absolute no-go stores, because the largest label size is 36 (and these are relative, they fit like a 34).  Now, all of these clothes are expensive, and for those that know me, I have one suit over $1800 and the rest of my clothes are happily bargains.  I live in a uniform for the most part and I don’t care about looking “hip” “trendy” or “cool”.  Although I wouldn’t normally shop at these stores, it cuts down the options significantly as to what I can wear. 

Now for the other list, stores I can always walk into and find something that fits:

Eddie Bauer, Mark’s Work Wearhouse, Old Navy

Sad, but in an average mall, those are the only 3 stores I can bank on. Now, I can also shop at the big department stores, as they do have a wide selection, but lets face it, when is the last time there was something decent to wear at a big-name department store. 

So what happened to me on my trip?  I went to Old Navy.  I rarely shopped there before, but I was opened up to a new world of clothes that work for me.  I have 3 criteria for clothes, and it all must balance out no matter where I shop: Economical, Durable and Figure Flattering.  I want to look good, yea, I’m fat, but it doesn’t mean I can’t wear something nice. 

As for Old Navy, I found for under $50 2 pairs of pants that fit well, seemed quite durable and looked good. I found shirts that fit a guy who is broad in the shoulders and in the waist (with a barrel chest), and I found an array of clothing that was right for me.  They have a decent enough array of styles to fit most of what I’m looking for and they’re economical.

Eddie Bauer is also one of my standbys, but they don’t fall into the “economical” category.  They are durable and they look good on a guy like me, but they are expensive.  It is, however, nice knowing I can always bank on Bauer having my size. 

As for Marks, they’re the cornerstone for me.  Tough clothing, mid-ranged prices but, they don’t look anywhere remotely “cool”.  Its clothing for middle-aged guys, which I’m okay with most of the time, but every so often its nice to have a bit of style. 

So here I sit with some new clothes for a new semester of university, ready to take on the world.  Remember, it aint easy being fat.