My classmates and I were finally drawing closer to the end of the classroom portion of Paramedic school and preparing ourselves for clinical rotations and internship.  But, one of our sticking points was intubation.  It's the procedure where a tube is inserted into the trachea so as to maintain an open airway.  We had performed it any number of times on the mannequins available to us but it wasn't real and there was nothing else for us to practice on.  I'd heard that morgues would occasionally let students come in and have a go at it but I guess even the dead were afraid to let us get our scaley little hands on them because we didn't get that opportunity either.  But, that's when we found that there was an animal whose airway structure is very similar to that of a human.  The pig.

One of my fellow students said that he had the specimens we needed and, being the innovative little rascals we were, we jumped at the chance.  Of course, we had to do it at night because the noise would have awakened even those faculty members who had barely breathed in fifteen years.

After a chase that resembled a demolition derby and a mighty struggle once we caught him, we were finally able to maneuver the loud-mouthed porker up the hall and into the classroom where a veterinarian was waiting to assist.

It would have made even the most demanding surgeon proud.  After the vet started the I.V. and began pushing the anesthesia, we fashioned an oxygen mask and hooked Porky up to an EKG.  He was lying on his back, feet in the air and snoozing peacefully as we practiced our skill with enthusiasm and began to feel comfortable with the laryngoscope and blades.

After a while, the vet decided that we should begin to bring him out so we gently maneuvered him and monitored until he was conscious.  Having been trained in the treatment of homo sapiens, I'm not sure what we would have done had a crisis presented itself but we were there nonetheless.  Before I left, I walked out to the trailer to check on him and he was standing there with what appeared to be a slight grin.  Probably from residual drugs.  Anyway, he appeared to be faring well so I merrily took myself home, later finished the remainder ot the program and, as they say, the rest is history.

It was years before I found out that the pig had died later that night.  It may seem odd to some but even after those years, I felt a loss generally reserved for those fellow humans who pass from us.  That, and a fair amount of guilt.  There was no way around it.   As unintentional as it was, we had killed him and it was some time before any good in the situation began to surface.  He had helped us practice a life-saving skill but I've never been totally at ease with the outcome.  I don't know why.  I eat them for breakfast  most every day.  But, if you were to have visited my office, you may have noticed a small photo on the wall.  It was the picture of a pig along with a black ribbon that graced the frame.  I figured it was the least I could do.

Before we could be finally certified, we had to pass a battery of tests, both written and skills related.  Once we passed the college portion, the final tests were given by State Board Examiners.  The guy I had was almost a legend.  He was known as, The Smiling Assassin.  He could cut your throat with a ball point pen as skillfully as with a Bowie knife while making you believe that he was your best friend in the world.

I can still see him sitting there, smiling and offering encouragement while out of my view, slashing huge X's on my evaluation sheet and detracting points with the speed of an IBM.  And I hated his ever-loving guts.

But, as time passed and my certification increased, I had the opportunity to become one of these State Board Examiners who could wield the pen like Excalibur.  However, I remembered the Assassin and very humbly told myself that I would be different.

I, unlike the Smiling Assassin, understood what it's like to be a student under these conditions.  I oozed humbleness.

I, unlike the Smiling Assassin, would treat the student with a respect forged by years of being in the same position.  I was humbleness personified.

Unlike the Smiling Assassin, I would be...unique.  As you might guess, my humbleness was now making stains on the carpet.

For instance, I used a "King's X" rule.  If a student became confused, he or she had the opportunity for one which gave them time to gather their composure before continuing.  I gave them encouragement.

Also, I seldom stopped a student when they made a mistake because they could often catch it themselves and I surmised that If they caught their own mistake, they knew what they were doing.  I merely smiled and allowed them to continue as I graded.

Of course, there are always a certain number who will invariabley flub up and I would have to place a failing mark on the evaluation sheet which condemned them to the dreaded "re-evaluation".  They got one before complete failure.  All things taken into consideration, this does not make the student a particularly happy camper and they would leave mumbling incoherently.  But, there was one I understood clearly.  "Assassin," he muttered as he skulked out the door.

I was dumbfounded.  I was confused.  I noticed that I was still wearing my ruby slippers.  Hey!  I had to leave the house in a hurry!

"Me?!" I thought.  "Understanding, humble...me?!

And that's when I was hit with a realization that shook me to the core.  I had become.......him.  The assassin.  The executioner.  The torpedo.  It dawned on me that this man whom I hated so much had been doing his level best to get me through it with the least amount of trauma possible.  He was actually human.

So, if you're still out there pard, I want you to know that I understand.  Hang in there and keep doing what you're doing.  But try not to listen when students mumble.

www.lifeinthedweeblane.com