Sunday, December 12, 2010


To: Everyone
From: Matthew
Re: Slactivism

If you're going to use your Facebook/Twitter/Myspace* status to ask me and other users to repost something to "raise awareness" of something or to "show support" of something else or to "see how many people have he balls to repost this" to support whatever bullshit you're sputtering you can take your cause and shove it up your ass. Also, if you do participate in such activity I reserve the right to mock the ever loving fuck out of you.

Cancer awareness? Yep, I'm aware of it and I'm pretty damned aware of how much it sucks ass.
Child abuse? We won't talk about some of the runs I've been on or the charts that I've read because it would make your skin crawl.
Domestic Abuse? Again, we won't talk about some of the runs I've been on.
The Pledge of Allegiance? Yep, I recited it daily too and everyone in this country as a right to not recite it if they so choose. Move on.
Religious tomfoolery? Ha! HAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Let's not talk about the secrets that all of you harbor while you're condemning me for being a godless heathen because I'm gay, hypocrite.
Mental Health issues? We all know I'm a wee bit off kilter and am a much nicer person when I take my calm the fuck down pill every day.

I refuse to participate in any sort of slacktivism for the simple reason that it accomplishes nothing other than making you, the poster, feel all fucking warm and fuzzy because you've "done something" for a cause when in reality, you haven't done shit.

If you agree with me, don't repost this, just stop being a complete fucktard instead.

Smoochies!, ~Matthew

*Seriously, does anyone use Myspace any more?

Monday, November 15, 2010

Dear John,

Our paths crossed at a bad time for both of us. I've thought of you often since then and I wish that things could have been different. I decided to look you up online tonight and saw a couple of photos- it looks like you're doing okay. You were going through a rough and troubled time back then and I worried that you might take a different, more terminal route. I'm glad to see that you made it through. You've grown since then yet you still look the same. You've still got that same smile and I would probably still recognize you on the street. You've changed since then and it looks like your life got brighter.

I want you to know that I'm sorry, but I don't regret it. What can I say? You were my first and I am still thankful for that. I'd love to say hello and just tell you that I'm glad you're doing well, but I don't want to intrude on the life that you have now and so I'll just write this note that you'll never read.

Be well,

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

It. Gets. Better.

“One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: that word is love.”

In the wake of several recent suicides among LGBT youth and youth who were simply perceived to be LGBT I have a strong need to tell my story. For the most part I lived an uneventful childhood. My parents loved me, I grew up in an average working class household where I was safe and I was loved. I suppose on some level I always knew that I was different, but I never quite knew how. I knew that I was attracted to the other boys in school, but I never once considered that I might be gay. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I even began to consider it and I was finally able to admit that I am gay. Coming to this admission was a relief, but it was also a terrible burden- how do I tell others? How will they react? I found myself enveloped in fear and torment. I knew in my heart that it was okay for me to be gay; I just didn’t know if others would know that it was okay. I started by telling a few friends, but I feared my family knowing.

I entered a very, very deep depression. I felt alone and very afraid. What if people found out? How would they react? I really cannot begin to explain the level of fear and despair that I was experiencing. I tried over the counter, herbal anti depressants, but they didn’t work, I wanted so badly to be normal, but I knew I never could make myself un-gay and so I started to think of suicide. I knew that I had to come up with a fool proof plan, otherwise I would back out at the last second and just end up with more issues to deal with. If I took pills I would likely just end up vomiting them back up. I knew that if I slit my wrists I would just stop when I felt the pain. Most importantly I didn’t want to make a mess for anyone to clean up. I thought about it for some time and I came up with a plan that I knew would work, that would ensure that no one came home to a horrific scene. For the sake of those who love me I won’t explain the method I came up with. I will just say that it was 100% foolproof and had I gone through with it I would have been successful in ending my life. I wanted to end my life because I thought that it would be easier for me to be dead than to have to admit to the world who I am.

My very good friend Kalem knew that I was in pain and he was keeping an eye on me and offering me support. I don’t know if he knows this or not, but one simple action of his saved my life. He and I stopped to get some ice cream one summer night and as usual he knew something was wrong. We talked for a while and before parting ways that night he handed me Melissa Etheridge’s Yes I Am album and just said to me “listen to track four.” And so I did. I listened to Silent Legacy over and over and over again. I listened, I sang, I cried. And as I drove around for hours I tried to absorb it all. In listening to that song and in paying close attention to the lyrics I came to realize that it’s okay. I was not alone- others had been in the same position before and others would be in the same position after me. As I listened to the rest of the songs on that album another one spoke to me. If Silent Legacy let me know that I wasn’t alone then Talking to My Angel let me to know that I would be okay as long as I had people who loved me. The music helped me to realize that I can live my life and if people find out, then so be it. I can move on and if me being gay is a problem for them, then it is just that- a problem for them, not for me. I am who I am and though my sexuality impacts who I am, it does not define who I am. I am the same person I always was, the only thing that had changed was that I came to learn who I was and in doing so I found a freedom that no one can ever take away from me.

Years ago I was out with my friend Chris and one day and after having lunch we stopped into this little shop in Portland that specialized in silver jewelry. Never before had I worn any jewelry but Chris always seemed to have multiple rings on. He decided that afternoon that I should buy something for myself so while we were there and I picked out a very simple silver ring that consists of three silver strands woven together. I purchased it and they sized it to my finger and I started to wear it to remind myself of who I am- just a little bit different, just a little bit flashy, but still just simple, plain old’ me.

In the ten years that have passed since then I truly have come to learn that it gets better. I moved on from where I was, I became a paramedic, I came out to everyone and my world didn’t fall apart. In fact, my world became much more solid. I found my family, not just those who are related to me, but my true family; those with whom I do not share blood but nonetheless will stand by my side no matter what. And I can safely say, with 100% certainty, that because I persevered and because I lived I’ve impacted people’s lives in a positive manner and that alone gives me reason to go on.

I have worn that ring every day of my life since I bought it and I will continue to wear it so that when I see it and feel it on my finger I will remember who I am and know that it’s just fine to be me, and that for me, not only did it get better, it got glorious. I realized that I can’t hide my sexuality, I don’t necessarily need to flaunt it, but it is a part of me, just as much as my brown eyes and the gray hairs that are sprouting on my head. It got better for me, a whole lot better just like it will for you, so long as you can hold on. It won’t be easy and you will cry along the way, but it will get better. I can promise you that.

Sunday, October 3, 2010


There is a website that I use, that shall remain nameless on this blog. This site requires a user profile and tonight I decided to update it.

You're likely to think that I'm kind of an asshole.
I don't try to be a dick, but as a general rule, people just piss me off. I'm kind of bitter and jaded when it comes to humanity. Maybe if my work didn't require that I treat peoples medical issues because they're too stupid to manage them on their own or perhaps if my other job didn't require that I spend my days cataloging stupidity I might be a friendlier person, but until that day comes, I'm probably still going to be a dick.

Too harsh?

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Dear Mouthbreathing Ass-clown

You work at Radio Shack, you should know a thing or two about electronics and computers. You should be helpful and courteous. Your job is to make a sale, your job is not to be a condescending dickhead who doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about. So when I stop in and casually ask if by some chance you carry any USB to HDMI products your response should have been along the lines of "I'm not familiar with any such product." What you should not have said was "Psh, no such thing exists. USB is only for input, you can't output anything through a USB connection. That's just for mice and keyboards and such."

You see, douchenozzle, USB does many wondrous things. Why as a matter of fact there are many forms of media that can be output via USB. That MP3 player there behind the counter, the computer OUTPUTS data to it via USB. Those external hard drives over there, the computer OUTPUTS data to it via USB. See that headset there? The one with the mic, hanging right there on the wall. The computer sends electricity THROUGH the USB port and cable to the headphones and, golly be, you can hear audio coming OUT of it! So yes, there are devices out there that allow the computer to OUTPUT video via a USB cable to a little box that converts the video and audio via HDMI connection.

In summation, before you act like an arrogant prick and tell me that there is no such device and that USB is not for output, why don't you go look through a fucking catalog, or work some Google-fu and learn a thing or two. Oh, and your boss, the lady who runs the store, yeah, the one who addressed me by name as she was leaving the store for the night, I'll be having a chat with her about your asshole demeanor.

Get fisted, cock-smooch!
~Matthew :-)

Saturday, August 14, 2010


So, the other day I did my first transfer to the local inpatient hospice facility since my aunt and grandfather died. On the way over I chatted with the patient's family and explained the services there. I told of how it is very patient focused and how there are services available to both the patient and their loved ones. When we got there we settled the patient into the room and as we were leaving I ran into one of the volunteers whose daughter is an old high school friend and who attended my aunt and grandfather's wake and funerals, we chatted briefly and went on our ways.
Going there was hard and I won't deny that I did get a bit misty-eyed, but I'm happy to deliver patients there because even though their time is limited I know that they are going to a good place where they will hopefully be comfortable and where I know they will be supported and tended to in a very caring and compassionate manner.


In my aunt's final hours one of the nurses sat with her and my uncle because my aunt required frequent suctioning of the airway and eventually the nurse said to my uncle "Mark, it's getting very close to the end, I can keep doing this, but it will just prolong the inevitable." He asked how much longer it would be if she stopped and she explained it and they decided it was time, that it wasn't right to just keep her lingering any more. And so that nurse whose shift had already ended stayed with him and stayed until well after my aunt died. And she wept with him, she didn't know my Aunt Jackie beforehand, she didn't know who she was, she didn't know the live that she had lived, but she stayed and she wept.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Holy hell!

A quick check of Sitemeter just now reveals that I have regular blog visitors from Portugal, Guatemala, France, Chile, Germany, Thailand, India, Egypt, Spain, all over the UK, Saudi Arabia, Indoesia, Argentenia, and Canada.

How are you people getting to my blog? I am very curious, please feel free to leave a comment and tell me how you managed to stumble upon my rantings here.

Mourning. Again.

There really isn't much organization of cohesiveness to this post. It is really just a collection of snippets of the last couple of weeks.

The morning following my last post my grandfather died. The nurse went in first thing in the morning to reposition him in bed and that was more than his heart could take. My parents immediately went to the hospice facility that he was at and I soon joined them. I sat in his room while his body still lay there in bed. I cried, I said my goodbye. The days and weeks that have followed since then have been a whirlwind- funerals, family drama, general bitching & complaining.

The funeral was rough, my grandfather served in WWII in the Merchant Marines. This is something that he was very proud of. He was on the Murmansk Run, for every 20 ships that sailed they were lucky if five of them made it there, they sailed to deliver supplies, equipment and troops on an unarmed ship through U-boat infested waters yet it wasn't until the 80's that the United States government recognized him as a veteran. It wasn't until just a few years ago that he was qualified to join the local VFW Post. My grandfather ran away to New York City at the age of 17 and forged his mother's signature so that he could enlist, because of this, he didn't graduate from high school. In the early 50's he earned his GED. A few years back, shortly after my grandmother died a law was passed that allowed such veterans to be granted their high school diploma. Though he had earned his GED many, many years before and he had a successful career in management in the local paper industry he was still so very proud to have his high school diploma.

Because of his service and (eventual) status as a veteran he was buried with full military honors. His best friend since kindergarten, the one who he ran away to New York City with spoke at the wake and told the edited story of how they enlisted. And he spoke beautifully of his friend who had known for close to 80 years.

There was one humorous moment following the funeral. We, the pall bearers, arrived at the cemetery ahead of everyone, the local VFW color guard was there along with three young men who made up the honor guard, these were soldiers recently discharged from the military who serve at funerals for local veterans, one a specialist, the other two sergeants. As we arrived, my brother-in-law, Rick, whom I have written about previously exited the car in his uniform. Those three young soldiers quite visibly stood up much straighter as my Rick, the very decorated, very soon to be Sergeant Major walked over and asked "Are you men folding the flag?" One of the sergeants responded with a very curt "Yes master sergeant" as Rick walked back to where we were I could see one of them rather discreetly turn to the other and say "Who the hell was that?!"

During the ceremony at the cemetery between my cousin playing Taps for our grandfather and the 21-gun salute and the folding of the flag and its presentation to my mother we were all overcome with emotion. I miss him dearly.

My four year old nephew, Thomas, would always say to my mother when he visited "Let's go see Papa, just for a minute" whenever he visited my parents, and so they would walk across the street and through the neighbors back yard to my grandfathers house for a quick visit. We have been wondering how to tell him that he can't go see Papa any more and the other day he finally asked. My mother got a bit teary eyed and told him that Papa had left to go live with Nana in heaven and that we wouldn't be able to see him anymore. Later in the day when getting ready to have lunch Thomas said to my mother "Memere, I want soup for lunch, the kind that me and my Papa used to eat."

When people ask where I live I often tell them that I live in a house that my parents own. While this statement is true it allows me to skirt the fact that I live with my parents in their house. Leaving a good job in Pennsylvania to return to Maine without the guarantee of a full time job, only a pair of part time jobs, at the outbreak of a global economic recession was not one of my smartest moves. The economy sucks, there are no full time paramedic jobs here and so I live in my parents home, which brings me to my next topic.

The night my grandmother died eight years ago, when the doctor came out to the waiting room to tell my family what I already knew, my grandfather sobbed and the first thing he said was "What am I going to do without her?" To the best of my knowledge at that point in time my grandfather hadn't prepared a meal for himself since 1946, and so started the dinner time routine. My grandfather would have dinner at my house or my aunt's house each night of the week, so with the exception of nights that I was working and the year I spent living in Pennsylvania, I had dinner with my grandfather at least three nights a week, even more so over the course of the last year and a half since my aunt became ill. We haven't quite settled into a new dinner time routine yet and some nights it just feels awkward.

I'm sorry that this post is so unorganized. I just needed to write a few things down and this seemed like the way to do it. I do appreciate all the kind comments and emails and IM's that have been sent my way. Thank you all so very much.

Saturday, July 17, 2010


I'm not going to go on with the whole "I'm a bad blogger, I haven't posted in ages" bullshit, because, well, fuck it. I do this for my own release and not for your entertainment, if you read and like what i have to say then great, but this blog is here for me.

I posted a while back about mourning and my aunt dying and all that stuff. Well, my aunt did pass away, and on the very same day that she died, another aunt died- this one on my father's side of the family. The funeral did indeed end with George Harrison's "My Sweet Lord" but instead of playing the recording like my aunt wanted the geriatric choir sang it instead and butchered the fuck out of it.

I'm still working my hospital job and I have grown to hate it- more on this later.

While my aunt was at the local inpatient hospice facility my grandfather told her "I'm going to be next you know" a couple of weeks after she died he started to go downhill and was admitted to the hospital. Again. He's been worried about sorting out his will and after being admitted to the hospital my mother made arrangements for him to sign his will and have it notarized while he was in the hospital. I was working at the hospital when this all happened and the relief was visible in his expression when he signed his will just before he was transferred to the very same inpatient hospice facility where my aunt died.

I just got off the phone with my mother who has been visiting him and she told me that he has slept for the last twenty four hours and woke up only to say "Hi Doug" when my father entered the room. My mother actually told me just now that if I don't want to I don't have to go visit him at the hospice house because she would prefer that I just remember my last encounter with him at the hospital when he was relieved and feeling okay.

I'm trying to sort through my mother's description of his condition. Since he is under hospice care they've discontinued most of his medications so now the CHF is catching up with him and it sounds like there might be some ascites as well. I'm curious to know what his blood sugar has been at since he's been taken off his oral antihyperglycemics.

I really shouldn't be writing right now because I'm sure none of this makes much sense, but the long & the short of it is (Aunt x2 + dying) * (Matt hates his primary job) * grandfather dying = big giant ball of suck x1

Seriously. Fuck my life.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

I have a confession to make

I am a bad EMS blogger. I’ve listened to the comments and the praise for Chronicles of EMS, but until tonight I hadn’t watched the first episode. There really isn’t a lot that I can say about it that hasn’t already been said. It’s pretty damn cool and my gut reaction is ‘Wow, I want people to see this. I wish I could be a part of this. Gee, I wonder if they need a still photographer.'

I’ve you’ve been living under a rock like I have and you haven’t seen it yet, then go visit the site and watch Episode 1.

Follow on Facebook

Follow the hashtag #CoEMS on Twitter and follow the series producer Thadeus Setla (@Setla) while you're at it.

You should also check out the two blogs that started it all Justin Schorr's blog Happy Medic and Mark Glencorse's blog 999Medic which unfortunately has been shut down, however you can still go back & read his archive.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Free shooty goodness? I'm in!

We all know I'm a whore for free stuff so I figured I'd give this a shot. It is pretty self explanatory.
There's some wicked cool stuff over at The Survivalists Blog. Go check it out.

M.D. Creekmore at The Survivalist Blog – a survival blog dedicated to helping others prepare for and survive disaster – with articles on bug out bag contents, survival knife choices and a wealth of other survival information is giving away a 1,000 round case of 9mm – 124 Grain FMJ (a $200 value – donated by LuckyGunner)! To enter, you just have to post about it on your blog. This is my entry. Visit The Survivalist Blog for the details.

Friday, June 18, 2010


I know death. I have seen it. I have been witness to more passings than I care to count. I have done my part to thwart it yet still I know that it is inevitable. We start dying from the day we’re born. For some it comes quickly and without pain and for others it is a long drawn out process.

My aunt is dying. The colon cancer that was once thought to be in remission has metastasized to her liver, lungs, bones, spine and God only knows where else. The oncologist told her that it is spreading faster than the chemotherapy can treat it. It has shown up in so many places that they would have to irradiate her entire body if they wanted to hit every tumor.  And so she has decided to stop treatment.

I know it wasn’t an easy decision to come to, her husband begged her to keep trying, but she has known for some time that it would come to this. In two weeks time since stopping the treatment she has begun to die. It isn’t so much that I harbor any special relationship with my aunt. I love her, but we have never been particularly close. I have handled death many times before, and I am sad- I can’t bear to look at photos of her and her grandchildren without crying, but I know that I will process this. I mourn for my mother’s sake. It isn’t as though she shares some mystical bond with her sister, but they commiserate together, they love one another. Hell, my aunt worries how my mother will manage being the only one in town to care for my grandfather. My mother is losing her sister and though she has known for months that this time would come her heart is still breaking and so I cry for her. I cry for my grandfather who will bury his daughter soon. I cry for my cousins who will bury their mother. I cry for my uncle who will bury his bride. I cry for her grandchildren who are too young to truly know their grandmother and who will never get to know her as adults.

In the course of one afternoon it was announced that my aunt would go under hospice care, have a morphine PCA and a visit from the parish priest. My mother thought that the morphine was a bad sign, but everyone ends up on a PCA of some sort. The bad sign was really the fact that the priest would come for the last rites, or the anointing of the sick as it is now called. My aunt spoke at length with the priest and the priest asked a favor of her. He asked her that when she crosses over and when she meets Jesus if she would ask Him to pray for him. Now I don’t know if this is just a genuine, heartfelt request or also perhaps a way of giving her permission. I know that my aunt has made peace with her fate, but I can’t help but think that this was the priest’s way of letting her know that it’s okay to go when the time comes.

My mother visited my aunt the other day, before she was transported to the Hospice House, my mother lay in bed with my aunt and talked and cried and talked some more and my aunt told her that she asked the priest if it would be okay for a Beatles song to be playing at the end of the funeral as the casket is taken out of the church, because she didn’t want her friends to be sad. And so sometime soon after she passes, her funeral will close with this and I will try to smile and remember all of the wonderful things about her.

I love you Aunt Jackie. May you find rest.

Monday, June 14, 2010


H/t to AD for this one.

I would hate to think of what would have happened to either of the two young men in this video had they responded to the assault from the Congressman from North Carolina in the same manner that I would respond to someone grabbing my wrist and refusing to let go.

What a fucking douchenozzle.

Monday, June 7, 2010

You and Me Could Write a Bad Romance

Je veux ton amour et je veux ton revenge
Je veux ton amour
I don't want to be friends**
~Lady Gaga

Whenever we have a crisis of some sort, one particular friend and I have been known to encourage one another with the simple phrase “Go big or go home.” This advice could be directed toward anything from the mundane to the massive. With a little bit of prodding from her last night, I decided to take her advice and unleash my true feelings on someone whom I care about deeply. I’m normally the type of person who keeps his feelings bottled up and I tend to maintain a hard protective shell so as to not let anyone see the insecure git that I am on the inside. There are a select few people who I allow to get close to me which is one of the reasons that I have been single for as long as I have. Last night I decided to just let it all out, and tell this man how I feel about him, and the response was just as I suspected it would be. “we’re not right for each other” “it would ruin our friendship” “neither of us is in a position to be in a relationship” Of course, my rational self can see this, however my rational self is often overshadowed by my inner romantic as it was last night and to some degree still is today.

While I realize that the attraction is not mutual and that the feelings are not reciprocated, I’ve come to realize that I’m okay with that. Sure I still may have the fantasy inside my head that things could work out with this man, but I know that right now he isn’t interested in pursuing a romantic adventure with me despite what a fantastic adventure it would be. And I’m okay with that. In a different time, in a different frame of mind this sort of discussion would have sent me spiraling into an angst riddled funk. But it didn’t. I still have feelings for him, strong feelings in fact, but the confirmation that my suspicions were correct that he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings hasn’t changed how I feel about him and it hasn’t changed our friendship. And I’m okay with that.

**Yeah, I quoted Lady Gaga. Deal with it.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

My Gay Family.

“Gay friendships often create an alternative to family, a link more compelling than blood.”
                                        -David Bergman

I have said in the past that I have two families. I have the family that I was born to, with whom I share blood. And I have my second family, my gay family. My gay family is made up mostly of homosexual men but into the mix are thrown a few straight allies. At the core of this family are my closest friends- they share my secrets, they share my experiences, they share with me who they truly are. I love all of my friends, but there are things about me and experiences that I have had that my straight friends cannot relate to.

My straight friends do not know what it is like to live in the closet. To question who you are and why you are the way you are and why everyone else makes it out to be so wrong- even if that wrongness is self-imposed out of fear of being different or disappointing others. My gay friends know this. They know what it is like to hide a part of yourself. I am not defined by my sexuality, but it is integral to who I am and the way that I experience life. To deny it, to live a life in the closet is difficult, it is painful, it is full of fear

“It is the closet that is our sin and our shame.”
                                -Barbara Grier

I always knew there was something different about me. But it wasn’t until I was twenty when I could first utter the words “I’m gay”, in saying so I was liberated. I knew that what was to come would be difficult but I knew that it had to be done. I started by telling my close friends, at that point all of whom were hetero. I had no gay friends until a new employee came along at work and in him I found the first person in whom I ever felt I could truly confide. Over time he helped me to understand that I am not wrong, that I am not broken. It would be a few years before I would be able to tell my parents and upon telling them I learned that I had nothing to fear. My parents still loved me. My friends did not run away. My world did not fall apart.

Not everyone has this same experience. Some respond with love and acceptance. Some respond with indifference. Some respond with neglect and still some respond with violence. My friends have all been met with varied responses, but regardless of how our coming out experiences differ we all still share in that guilt and crippling fear. I could preach to closeted homosexuals until I am blue in the face that coming out is a relief, which it is, but until society comes to accept us for who we are and not for whom we love, then we will all still face some degree of fear and guilt while in the closet.

“There is no torment in coming out. The torment is being in.”
                                -Armistead Maupin

Friday, June 4, 2010

Blogroll addition.

Anyone who reads my blog knows that I am a whore for links and I subscribe to the "you've got to give some to get some" train of thought and so today I'm going to share with you a link to a new blog. My friend Sean, who I wrote about in the MonkeySphere's post last week has decided to start a blog of his own.

Sean is good people. I consider him to be one of my best friends. He is an EMT working for a pretty big, pretty busy private service in the Boston metro area, compared to most of my fellow EMS bloggers he is still quite the neophyte to EMS, but he's a good guy- he's got a heart of gold and believe it or not, he actually cares. He's still new & sparky enough to not be the too bitter and jaded and cynical and he helps me to keep a fresh perspective on EMS and for that I thank him. I also need to thank him for providing me with some blog fodder today. Earlier he posted his some of his coming out story and that kind of motivated me to post something similar.

So, go give him a read, and while you're there, please, for the love of all that is good and pure, suggest a new name for his blog.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

A Call to Action!

A while back my buddy Ambulance Driver wrote a fantastic rant about the twatsiclery at a shop he took his motorcycle to for some work - Cycles & More of Southern Louisiana. The long & the short of it is, these asshats wouldn't know customer service if it came up and bit them on the ass. For quite some time this rant of rants was the number one Google hit for a search of Cycles & More. Well it seems as though this ranking has slipped and so we must do what we can to return AD's rant to its proper place. So if you have a blog of your own, go ahead and do him a favor and link Cycles & More to AD's article found here.

WTF. Over.

Okay, so I was rolling through my Site Meter statistics this morning before heading in to work and I noticed that someone got to my blog via the "50 Best Blogs for Male Nurses" post at Now, I don't take issue with being linked from them- we all know I'm whore for links. I'm flattered that they have me as #3 on the list, what I do take issue with is the tag line they've assigned me - "Medic Matthew talks about working with nurses, doctors and other people who don’t give him enough credit." I. Call. Bullshit. Now I'm not about to go back through my entire archive, but I'm quite certain that this is not a "Woe is me, Nurses/Doctors/PA's/NP's/RRT's/Rad Techs/Phlebotomists hate me" blog. I have never taken that attitude and anyone who knows me knows that (to quote my friend Ryan)- bitches love me because they know I can rock. I am well respected among my peers and among the hospital staff that I interact with on a daily basis.

So, can anyone explain to me wtf that tag line is all about?

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

While we're on the subject

I mentioned it in that last post and so I have to come clean here. I, MedicMatthew, am a Vicious Circle fanboy. I listen to it during my commute to work, it makes me laugh. I often agree with what a lot of the participants have to say. I've met JayG. I have also met  Weer'd Beard and find myself wanting to comment about some of the things he says about Maine. I think it would be a fucking riot to just sit back at a bar and listen to Stingray go off on a rant. I'm quite certain that I would have a complete fanboy meltdown if I some day met Breda. Oh and Alan & Jim and LabRat would be pretty awesome to have a beer with too!

So there it is. It feels so good to be out of the closet.


Earlier this evening I was lamenting the fact that my muse has apparently up and left me. I realize that I don’t post regularly and it has been quite some time since I sat down and made a list of topics to blog about. Hell it was while I was living in Pennsylvania so it was probably about two years ago that I sat down and made my first ABC’s of Blogging list- a blog topic for each letter of the alphabet. It was a good way to come up with a list of things to blog about and it worked for a while. I should do it again, but I digress. I was bitching to my friend Sean via AIM about how I had nothing to blog about and his suggestion was “write about me….and how I’ve changed ur life” and I got to thinking about my friends.

I am a devoted listener of the Vicious Circle Podcast . On last week’s episode the topic of the Monkeysphere   came up- the gist of it being that humans are capable of maintaining about 150 relationships, beyond that things start to get a bit squiffy and we stop caring

The Monkeysphere is the group of people who each of us, using our monkeyish brains, are able to conceptualize as people. If the monkey scientists are monkey right, it's physically impossible for this to be a number much larger than 150.


Oh, not much. It's just the one single reason society doesn't work.

It's like this: which would upset you more, your best friend dying, or a dozen kids across town getting killed because their bus collided with a truck hauling killer bees? Which would hit you harder, your Mom dying, or seeing on the news that 15,000 people died in an earthquake in Iran?

They're all humans and they are all equally dead. But the closer to our Monkeysphere they are, the more it means to us. Just as your death won't mean anything to the Chinese or, for that matter, hardly anyone else more than 100 feet or so from where you're sitting right now.

The moral of the story is that after about 150 people or so we kinda stop caring. Person #151 is outside of our monkey sphere and we just don’t have room in our brains to maintain that relationship and so we either vote someone else off the island to make room for a new one or we just give person #151 a bored ‘meh’ and move on.

I have many “friends” on Facebook, but a good number of them are outside of my Monkeysphere. Sean, luckily for him, happens to fall within my Monkeysphere. It didn’t take too terribly long to earn a spot there and I don’t know whom I may have cast out to make room for him, but he is there nonetheless. I can count on my ten fingers the number of true friends that I have. I’m talking help-you-bury-a-body-and-burn-the-evidence friends and he is definitely one of them. I think a lot of times we take those friends for granted and assume that they know how we feel about them so perhaps I should make a more concerted effort to let my friends know how I feel about them. Perhaps I should tell them how much I value them and how I really do cherish their friendship. On second thought, given the way my friends and I talk to each other and rib one another they’d probably think something was wrong.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

I'm still here.

Wow, it has been two months since I last posted. Not a whole lot to report here so I thought I'd share a link to a local story.

People ask me why I carry a concealed handgun. This is why

Monday, March 22, 2010

Someone asked my opinion....

I will not deny that healthcare costs are out of control and access to health *insurance* is difficult to come by, however...

1.) The provision of healthcare is not a human right. Life, Liberty, Pursuit of Happiness- nothing in there about quality of life.
2.) We already live in too large of a welfare state. The Founding Fathers did not intend for those with to pay the way for those without. Can't afford healthcare? Not my problem.
3.) This "plan" could, in all likelihood, lead to the complete financial collapse of this nation. But then again, Obama spent more money in the first eight months in office than Bush did in eight years- including what has been spent in Iraq and Afghanistan, so I'm pretty sure he doesn't give a damn about the financial security of, well, anyone.
4.) There has been zero transparency in the creation of this program, despite campaign promises of increased transparency in government.
5.) It is simply out & out unconstitutional in the way that it is structured- a provision that prevents the law from being repealed!

Spend time in a healthcare institution and witness the blatant abuse from the entitlement mentality sputtering "I can't afford no co-pays!" These are people bitching about three dollar Medicaid co-payments that they "can't afford" while they're yapping on their cell phone or fishing through their pockets looking for a pack of cigarettes.

And that's not to mention the ER abuse. People using ER's in place of primary care. Calling 911 for an ambulance for pain that they've had for seven years (no lie!) and saying "oh, well I didn't have nothin' to do tonight so I figured I'd get it checked" at two in the morning. Or how about the four people who walked into the ER one night a few years back demanding STD screenings because they all hooked up with the one woman among them and now it burns to take a piss. My personal favorite is when a woman comes in for a two dollar pregnancy test because Medicaid won't pay for prenatal care until there's a confirmation of pregnancy by a physician but they won't cover the cost of an office visit for a pregnancy test. Thanks to current law they cannot be denied at the very least a medical screening, but no physician out there will deny them what they want out of fear of litigation and pressure from administration. These people are a drain on the system and it will only get worse when more and more people are allowed to participate in the system. Witness all of this then sit in my ambulance some day and try to not let your head explode when someone from the Department of Not Fucking Getting It says to you "Just take me to the fuckin' hospital. I pay your salary!" when in the next breath they sputter "I can afford it, I got the 'Caid, you're payin' for it."

A real, workable solution would involve welfare reform and reform of healthcare costs to make healthcare more affordable instead of providing yet another handout to people who contribute nothing to society yet demand that the government provide them with everything.

I have worked in multiple municipalities in multiple counties in multiple states. The *majority* of patients served by the areas I have worked in are on Medicaid. The minority of the people cannot support the majority for very long before complete collapse. We the working class We The People, are being forced to support the majority while Congress members have exempted themselves from this healthcare bill and will collect their pensions for life without having to pay in to Social Security. Unfortunately the damage has already been done, so someone please pass the lube, because we're all about to get fucked with something hard and sand-papery.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Why Do We Do This Job?

I was going to leave a comment on a post put up by Ambulance Driver, but it is long enough to be its own post.

It was a beautiful spring day, probably right about this time of year. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, perfect for some parasailing on a Sunday morning. The view must have really been impressive, and I'm sure he could see for miles and miles.

While he was in the air he started to feel ill, so he brought the parasail down in a field where his adult son was waiting for him. They began to package the gear when it happened. He clutched his chest and his heart likely stopped beating before he even hit the ground. His son called 911 from his cell phone and immediately started performing CPR. An ambulance was dispatched along with the local first responders. There happened to be a sheriffs deputy near by who just also happened to have an AED in his cruiser. How that Crown Vic with its low ground clearance made it down that muddy, rutted road to the field we'll never know, but the deputy made it there and applied the AED and delivered two shocks. After just a couple of minutes the local first responders arrived on scene and took over CPR, they suctioned his airway and placed an oropharyngeal airway and provided oxygen via BVM, minutes after the first responders arrived two ambulances made their way down that rutted muddy road.

The first responders in this town can be hit or miss, it all depends on who is in town and available, on this day there were plenty of them, but not knowing that, both ambulances responded. As we made our way down that muddy road I took the radio "Gini, you're on airway. Brett, get history from the bystanders, Abbie will get a line. The EMT student can do compressions. I'll take the monitor & drugs."

The first responder who was bagging the patient was one of our full timers, he quickly made room for Gini, the ink not yet dry on her EMT-Intermediate license, to get in position for her first field tube. As the eager EMT-B student got into position to start compressions I told him "push hard, push fast, only stop when I tell you to." The deputy's AED wasn't compatible with our monitor and so I peeled his pads off and placed ours on the patients chest- asystole. Fuck.

The student continued the picture perfect compressions that the son had started. Gini placed an 8.0 ET tube into the patient's trachea and we confirmed its placement via condensation, colorimetric CO2 detector, good, clear bilateral lung sounds and waveform capnography. Abbie had an 18 at the left A/C and so I tossed her the epi & atropine. Brett gave us a report on the history and I had the EMT pause compressions. V-tach. "He's already had two AED shocks, I'm charging to 360. Stop compressions, everyone clear!" Sinus tach at 120. "Son of a bitch, he's got a pulse! lets get into the truck and check a BP." One of the first responders came over to use with a longboard & straps & C-collar & blocks. We got him onto the board and secured to the stretcher and into the truck.

The patient's son followed me to the curb door of the rig and I told him that he was welcome to ride up front. "I'm not leaving my father! I've been with him through everything this morning, I'm not leaving him!" I learned long ago to pick your battles carefully. He had a point, he was the one who started CPR, he was already committed, who was I to deny him that.

I sat on the bench, the son to my left, the student across from me, ready to start CPR again if necessary, Abbie at the head to maintain airway. On the way in to the hospital I got on the radio "Podunk General, this is Medic 8, we're about five minutes out with a male patient, 50's, status post asystole arrest. After one round of ACLS drugs he's in a sinus rhythm now at 80, I've got a lido drip running, 12 lead shows an anterolateral infarct, he's got a pressure of 130/70, I'll see you in five, might want to start LifeFlight now."

Every link in the chain of survival was there that day. His son provided early CPR. The deputy provided early defibrillation. The first responders were able to provide good BLS airway control. My crew and I provided early ACLS and rapid transport. The ED staff was on top of their game that day as well. Just over an hour passed from the time he went into arrest until he was back up in the air, this time in an Agusta helicopter on his way to a cath lab. Several days later he walked out of the hospital under his own power. His only deficit- he doesn't remember landing the parasail.

And that is why I do my job. Because I was a part of the team that saved his life.

Monday, March 8, 2010

I don't know his name, but he was my brother.

I don't know why he got into EMS. I don't know how long he has been in EMS, I don't know what his life's experience was. But the simple fact is he was an EMS provider, he chose a life of dedication to others and one patient, in an instant, took that away from him. His name has not yet been released but we do know that he was 37 years old, married and had two children who expected their daddy to come home in the morning after his shift.

Resquiat in pacem, brother.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010


Second Annual AD NE Bloggershoot AAR to follow later.
I left the Harvard Sportsmen's Club to go directly to a friend's birthday party. Shooty Goodness + darn good company + 150+ mile drive + revelry with drunken fools (only one drink for me) + another 30 miles to home = direct to bed, then off to work this morning and now getting ready for bed again. Just like last  year's event I had a darn good time.

I also need to revamp my blogroll, the format I'm using currently takes up too much space, I need to shorten it and add a new list of Bloggers I've met. But that will be done in the not so distant future.

g'night all

Saturday, February 20, 2010

"Gun Control" Ur doin' it rite, Maine

I am blessed in that I live in a free state. Concealed and open carry are allowed, though I'm pretty sure despite our decent gun laws the average liberal Mainer would lose their shit upon seeing me walk down the street without concealing. I'm quite sure that no matter where you go you will encounter some degree of "ZOMFG!1!! He haz a gun!!1!!!!1eleventy!!!" whilst openly carrying. The Brady folks (spit) have released their annual state survey of gun laws and Maine received a respectable 11 out of 100. In New England only New Hampshire & Vermont received "lower" scores in the eyes of the Brady folk- nine and eight, respectively. From the local news...

PORTLAND, Maine (AP) -- Gun control laws in northern New England are being given low marks in the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence's annual survey of state gun laws.
The survey gave Maine a score of 11 out of 100 for its laws, while New Hampshire was given a 9 and Vermont was given an 8. The Brady Campaign says laws in Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont allow the sale of guns without background checks, put children at risk and help feed the illegal gun market.
Utah was at the bottom of the survey with a score of zero, while California was given the highest score, a 79.
The Brady Campaign is a Washington-based group that advocates for stronger gun control laws.

(Copyright 2010 by The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved.) 
 I just don't get Sarah Brady. Okay, fine your husband was shot in the head when someone was trying to take out ol' Ronnie Reagan, how about we get pissed off about the degree of crayzee shown by the shooter and not the fact that he had a heater. For fucks sake, look at the fucking numbers you ignorant bint.  Number of gun owners does not equal number of violent crimes, in fact the two numbers are not even related. There are violent douchebags everywhere who will resort to violence with our without a gun.

Fuck I need a drink.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Meme bandwagon

Since all the cool kids are doing it I figured I'd jump on the latest meme bandwagon. Here you see what leaves with house with me each and every time I go out. As with AD the exception being when I go to work administrators frown on carrying when I'm in the office at the hospital and when I'm working on the ambulance.

  • Wallet- complete with serial killer license photo
  • T-Mobile G1 w/Google- the original Android phone and it's still way cooler than you iPhone
  • Keys to Xterra v2.0, the office & a cuff key- never know when you might need one
  • Machined metal pen with which you could totally shank a bitch
  • Burt's Bees lip balm
  • iPod, yes those earbuds are pink, you got a problem with that??
  • Bersa Thunder 9 Ultra Compact- 13+1 rounds of 9mm goodness with combo IWB/OWB holster
  • Extra 13 round mag for aforementioned Bersa

    So, what's in your pocket?

    Thursday, January 14, 2010

    Stingray makes me giggle

    Being the avid fan of Vicious Circle that I am, whenever I read a rant by either of the Atomic Nerds I can't help but hear their voice inside my head. Today's giggle fit comes to us thanks to a rant by StingRay.

    With that one little ad, OnStar has absolutely positively made certain that I will never own or operate their monkey-felching syphillitic aids-weasel of a product. There is no fucking way in dildoslurping shitfuck that I want anybody other than the driver with that kind of control over my car. I’m glad the bad guy got caught, but the potential for some chicken fucking corpse diddler to abuse this system is so profoundly out of proportion to its possible beneficial applications that I am frankly appalled that when the idea was floated, the sister-fucking ass munching paragon of privacy violation wasn’t kicked in the junk with such force as to render whatever pus-crusted excuse for genitalia the miserable little month-old pile of clown-shit possessed into a fine mist.

    I must admit, I LOL'd, literally.

    "monkey-felching syphillity aids-weasel of a product"

    "no way in dildo-slurping shitfuck"

    "chicken fucking corpse diddler"

    "sister-fucking ass munching paragon of privacy violation"

    Yes, I really am just a 12 year old boy who laughs at name calling.

    Sunday, January 10, 2010

    2012 Rant

    These sanctimonious ass clowns that actually think the world is going to end in 2012 fail to understand that while yes, the Mayan calendar does indeed "run out" in 2012, *another* Mayan calendar begins the next fucking day.

    TEOTWAWKI is not going to come as a result of some ancient fucking calendar that most people don't fucking understand. It is going to come as a result of motherfucking zombies. ZOMBIES God damn it! How many fucking times do I have to fucking explain this to people?!?.
    Fuck I need another drink.