The Adventures of Ralph The Paramedic Student

     It was a dark and stormy night, or at least that's how it felt as I sat in the back of the ambulance, racing through the city streets with lights flashing and sirens blaring. The only thing I could see was the strobe of the lights outside the windows, and the only thing I could feel was the heat on full blast, making me sweat like a marathon runner.

     As a paramedic student, I had spent a year studying and preparing for this moment. I thought I was ready, but nothing could have prepared me for the combination of nerves, motion sickness, and a cramped ambulance all at once. I could feel my stomach churning with each twist and turn, and I knew it was only a matter of time before disaster struck.

     Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we arrived at the scene. To my relief, it turned out to be a minor emergency—a child with a slight fever and worried parents. My preceptor saw this as a perfect opportunity for me to practice assessing a paediatric patient, but little did she know that I was on the verge of a personal emergency myself. As we discussed the best course of action, it was decided that the child's mother would ride on the stretcher with the child, and the grandparents would sit with me on the bench seat. The heat in the back of the ambulance was unbearable, and I could feel the nausea growing stronger with each passing second.

     My preceptor, sensing my discomfort, couldn't help but giggle as she asked if I had auscultated the patient. I sheepishly admitted that I hadn't, and asked if she would mind doing it for me. But she knew what was about to happen. With a mischievous smile, she handed me the stethoscope, fully aware of the impending disaster. As I put the stethoscope in my ears, all other sounds faded away. I could hear my own heartbeat, my every breath, and the gurgling of my rebellious stomach. Desperately trying to hold it together, I asked for a puke bag, only to be met with a teasing remark from my preceptor about not needing it for the patient. But it was too late. The inevitable happened, and I began to vomit into the bag, much to the horror of the grandparents sitting beside me. They quickly scooted as far away as possible, as if my sickness was contagious.

     By the time we reached the hospital, I was officially sicker than the patient we were transporting. I had gained a new nickname, "Ralph," courtesy of my preceptor's laughter. And although I hoped it would be a short-lived nickname, my preceptor still calls me Ralph to this day, a constant reminder of that fateful ride in the back of the ambulance.

     But despite the embarrassment and the occasional teasing, I learned an important lesson that day: even in the most challenging and unexpected situations, it's okay to laugh at yourself and find humour in the chaos. And so, with a smile on my face and a puke bag in hand, I continue my journey to becoming a paramedic, ready to face whatever hilarious adventures lie ahead.