Medic Interrupted

Seems like one of the only manly outposts left in Long Island suburbia is the barber shop, where dads can go by themselves or with their sons and enjoy discussing sports, women and life in general using vocal tones amplified with testosterone. There was actually a priest sitting in the barber’s chair next to mine, sympathizing with my plight as an attorney. You see, the priest had played in his first poker game the night before. After finishing his third hand, the priest concluded that he couldn’t find the morality to bluff his fellow players, and left the game.

As an attorney, it is never acceptable to tell a lie. Painting a picture for the judge and jury using the facts of the case as colors is more akin to what lawyers like myself do. Using the facts is what makes us advocates. Creating falsities is what would get us in trouble. Yet, there seems to be an art in treading the fine line between these two concepts. Take, for instance, palliative phrases I use as a medic with injured patients and their families: “we are going to do everything we can for your daughter”; “we are going to help you the best we can”; “you’re going to feel some pressure while I start this IV”. So next time someone asks you the riddle of what a priest, an attorney and a medic have in common, you can say the answer .

On the other hand, when my seven year old son asked me whether I knew why the chicken crossed the road, I asked back to him, “why?”. I usually tuck my kids into bed before they go to sleep. But on this night, both my son and daughter bravely professed to me that they wanted to go to sleep on their own. We kissed and hugged downstairs, and up the stairs to bed they went while I finished watching the basketball game on TV. Needless to say, after the game, I heard their scurrying, saw their bedroom light go off suddenly, and found my two munchkins giggling (at absolutely nothing!) in their room in bed under the covers . “Get to sleep – NOW!” I admonished them. “We are trying daddy!” I hope they don’t learn to play poker anytime soon.

I just finished a three-night ACLS course given through Nassau County VEEB, and I loved every minute of it. I have been to many classes, given by many different instructors.  Truly, this was one of the best instructed courses I have ever attended.  The student/teacher ratio was about 4 to 1 at all times except during lecture and movie presentation.  The instructors were very knowledgeable; and made themselves available both before and after class to answer any questions.  Equally impressive to me was the fact that the instructors somehow created a chemistry in the class wherein every student helped one another. Notwithstanding, the students were all EMT-CC or higher, except for me and one other very nice girl.  What an amazingly refreshing experience all around.  I passed my practicals and writtens first time around too.  Go me. In any event, its a good feeling to be part of a group so committed to what they do on so many different levels. Just like most attorneys (YEAH RIGHT!).  Can’t wait to start my EMT-CC course in september. T minus 5 months or so. Get your bodies ready everyone.

This video is dedicated to all the wonderful employees of my law office, and those at the courthouse who had to stay home because they were ‘buried’ under the one inch coating of snow we got the other day, or they ‘had’ to leave early due to the ‘severe’ weather conditions. HTFU!!! Major props to MDOD for the find….

 Advanced spiritual people such as Buddha, Christ and their immediate students seem to be always painted with golden haloes around their heads.  I don’t know if it’s because some artists can actually see Auras, or whether they want others to think they do. But it appears as far back as time itself.  In Australia’s remote West Kimberleys you can even find prehistoric cave paintings, many thousands of years old, depicting people with golden haloes.  (By the way, I did spend last weekend visiting museums in New York City with my family and some friends- just in case you’re wondering what the genesis of that factoid is.)

As most of you know, there isn’t a night that goes by that I don’t tuck my kids into bed and put them to sleep.  My princess is 3, and my power ranger is 4.   It’s somewhat of a challenge every night when I lay in my son’s bed with the lights out.  He usually asks me to tell him a bedtime story, and I always start it off with “Once upon a time, far, far away…”  But tonight, I decided to tell him about his own past.  I told him how ‘when he was a baby’, I lulled him at night to my best rendition of Harry Chapin’s “Cats In The Cradle“.  He and I used to call it the “Bum Bum” song- much easier for him to have pronounced.  ”Can you sing it to me tonight daddy?”  And as I did, and his eyelids slowly shut, I could swear I saw cartoon-like figurines coming out of his

precious little sleepy head- giraffes, fluffy rabbits, puppy dogs, baby elephants, ponies and lollipops.

Harry Chapin died in a freak car accident right here in Jericho, New York on the Long Island Expressway in 1981.  Frank B., an old timer firefighter in my department told me that he was one of many who responded to the accident back then.  ”I picked up his head from the backseat,” he said very matter of factly, looking hard into my eyes with a straight face.  I wonder what Harry’s aura was like. All Frank B. said he saw was “a lot of blood”.

Gotta go and find a mirror now.  See if I have one of these aura things around my head.   I think it has something to do with my hair loss. There’s gotta be someone I can sue.

Long Island is 118 miles long and 18-20 miles wide at its widest point.