Michelle Williams is studying to be an EMT, working for the Red Cross, serving at Union Square Cafe, and forging her career as an actor.

Friday night in EMT class our instructors gave us scenarios and told us we had to make split-second decisions in order to save our patients' lives. It's called a "Rapid Trauma Assessment," a vital skill that enables the EMT to identify any major life-threatening problems and make an immediate decision: Transport the patient (load and go), or apply more treatment on the scene (stay and play).

PRINTDISCUSSE-MAILRSSRECOMMEND...SINGLE PAGE

FacebookMySpace Mixx Digg Reddit del.icio.us Furl Ma.gnolia SphereStumbleUponCLOSE

EMTs are Emergency Medical Technicians—the worker bees of the EMS system. My class began in January and ends in late May, at which point, if I pass the many practical and written exams, I will be nationally certified. When I signed up, I wasn't entirely sure what an EMT was, or a paramedic, or even how the 911 system worked. I just knew that EMTs had basic emergency medical training. I think most of my class didn't really know what to expect. But after six weeks, those of us still in the class are really enjoying it, even when we are exhausted or frustrated. Emergency medicine is not easy, nor exact, nor predictable, but it is fascinating.

On the first day, our instructor had us introduce ourselves and explain why we were there. A normal class size is around 22, but there were 45 of us that night, and we couldn't have been more colorful if we had been selected by Nickelodeon. The one common thread was the impact of 9/11. One by one we described our experiences of feeling inadequate and unskilled when our city was in so much need, and we all chose this as our way of being more educated and prepared. Some of the students had quit their jobs as high-powered executives or bartenders or plumbers because these jobs were no longer fulfilling enough to justify showing up every day. Soon they will work on ambulances. I don't know if I will end up on an ambulance—I've got a bunch of different irons in the fire, and they are all important to me. But I want these skills. I want to master them and be able to use them whether I'm on a subway or at my brother's farm with my family or working at my restaurant. It's empowering to know that in an emergency I could make a difference, especially living in Manhattan.

We have had some dropouts, but not many. There are only eight women in the class: an Asian woman, two African-Americans, three redheads, a brunette, and me, the token blonde. I classify the women this way only because before we knew names, this is how we referred to one another. There was a mass of colorful men, but the women were a more discrete collective, and when it came time for our first really challenging physical practicals, we absolutely had to rally. The men, however—a motley crew including everything from Bronx teen-agers to Manhattan bankers—are an extraordinary bunch, wildly different from one another but incredibly dedicated to the task at hand. I can't say that after six weeks of class I know everyone's name, but I can say they are good people.

"Practicals" are class sessions in which we physically use the skills from our lectures and books. Most of it is pretending—not unlike my Acting 101 classes from a decade ago—but some of it is performing exactly as we would in the field. There were several days of vital signs practicals, where we wandered around a room looking for a student with a free arm. Vital signs include assessing the pulse, respirations, blood pressure, and pupils. The first set I took was of a guy I'd never talked to—ridiculously handsome but not exactly brilliant so reevaluted as merely cute. I took his pulse, counted and assessed his respirations, and took his blood pressure.

Listening to the inside of another person is the strangest thing I have ever done. You strap on the blood-pressure cuff, clip on the gauge, put on your stethoscope and place it on the brachial artery, and then start to pump ... and when you release the air, so slowly, you start to hear the inside world of a person. It reminds me of snorkeling in Hawaii, when I dived down as far as I could stand. The sounds I heard under water, with all that life, and listening to this guy's pulse, to the movement of his inner body ... so strange.

I know that there are medical people who have done this a thousand times, but I am still not over it. I think it is immeasurably cool. But I think everything I am learning is immeasurably cool—a good sign, since I am already six weeks into the class, with months to go. Right now it's my favorite iron in the fire.

PRINTE-MAILRECOMMEND...RSS

FacebookMySpace Mixx Digg Reddit del.icio.us Furl Ma.gnolia SphereStumbleUponCLOSE

SPONSORED CONTENT