post-overnight shift rant

I just got done with my shift and was walking to the bus stop only to see in the distance, an ambulance with flashing lights pulling into the bus stop.  My heart stops and my curiosity peaks.  In the distance, I also see two of my EMT colleagues sitting by a male, presumably the patient, and I go into slight EMT mode.  My eyes are locked with such intense curiosity but more so, an intense desire to intervene.  To be a part of what was going.  To see what I could do.  To help.

This job has pushed my buttons, spiked my fight and flight system without fail, disrupted my sleep cycle, forever changed my sensitivity to any beeping tone resembling the radio's, has me out of breath, running to a building up the stairs because my bike broke halfway there, and has my eyes eagerly pierced through the window panes of the bus as I get on in spite having endured a twenty-hour Friday night shift with a 3am call, still trying to figure out what was happening and if I should have stayed on and helped my EMT colleagues despite the end of my shift.  A slight frustration creeps for not being able to do anything.

And it is these extraordinary feelings and compulsions to be of any use for another human being in need of help, even just a little bit, that has me thinking of all of this as more than just a job.  

It makes me start every shift genuinely loving what I do.  And happy that I get to do what I love.

maybe, maybe this is a happy rant.