CHaD successes

The Children's Hospital at Dartmouth (CHaD) Half-Marathon was run yesterday in Hanover and Norwich. According to the official website, this race/fundraiser has brought in more than $200,000 in donations. Ellen ran a fantastic race, completing the 13.1 mile course in 1:51:23, or an 8.5-minute mile pace. Final standings can be viewed here. Congratulations to Ellen and everyone who ran, walked, donated or volunteered in this event!

The race organizers also coordinated an attempt to break the Guinness World Record for most people gathered in one place dressed like superheroes. They evidently succeeded, assembling 1,016 costumed individuals on the Dartmouth Green before the race. Kudos to the new world-record holders!

In other news, researchers from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) announced on Friday that one of the biggest threats to the ozone layer is nitrous oxide. This didn't come out of the blue, as the EPA had already declared nitrous oxide a threat to public health back in April due to its heat-trapping tendencies.

The public-health-threat part is a bit ironic considering nitrous oxide is better known as "laughing gas" and is widely administered in dentist offices (and some paramedic ambulances) the nation over. Lest any dentophobes feel guilty, however, the article scarcely mentions nitrous as an anesthetic and anxiolytic. Rather, the gas is produced as a byproduct of fertilizer and other non-medical applications. A pun here is obligatory, but I will leave it for you to supply. Leave a comment if you come up with a good one.

Testimony

As promised, here is my testimony of faith, as delivered at the Christ Redeemer Church baptismal service on July 12 and at the Sunday morning service on August 23.

"It’s hard to say exactly where my journey to faith began. I didn’t grow up in a Christian home; my father didn’t buy into religion, and my mother was a Christian nominally at best. She used to drag me to church sometimes, back when I was still young enough to be scooped up and thrown in the back of the station wagon, but that was the extent of my exposure to Christianity, and I came to associate going to church with near-mortal boredom. Before long, my mother got busy with other things, and I was off the hook. My father would have been willing to drive me to church if I’d wanted to go, but I didn’t. I was too young to want a relationship with God for myself, or even to understand what that meant.

I cruised along for the next few years until the day after my sixteenth birthday, when my father told me that he and my mother were getting a divorce. My mother was an abusive parent and she and I did not have a good relationship, but even so, I had always turned to my family as my refuge, to be the one place where I could dwell in constancy and relative safety. And that was torn away from me.

The next months passed by in a blur. My younger brother and I went to live with my father. As the divorce and bitter custody battle unfolded, I found for a time that I could sustain myself emotionally on the us-against-the-world pathos my father, brother and I had formulated. But it was an artificial solution, a quick fix, and it didn’t last long.

The combined weight of high school and family troubles soon grew to completely overwhelm me. It just became too much and I couldn’t keep going. I didn’t snap, or break down, at least not on the outside. But all the pressure and despair I was feeling started getting directed inwardly, and there grew a searing pain in my heart. And seeing the void left in my heart by the loss of the family structure I’d needed so badly made me realize that there were a lot of other voids that needed filling, too. That’s when I first realized that there was something missing in my life, something bigger than what I’d lost, and something I desperately needed.

When I arrived at Dartmouth in September 2005, I had done some thinking about God. Did I believe in Him? I believed that there was a supernatural power that ordered things and made them happen a certain way, so in that sense I suppose I believed in God, or at least in a God-being. But was I a Christian? Definitely not. I didn’t know anything about who Jesus was or what he did.

What defined the early days of my Dartmouth career was my interaction with Christians. Of everyone I met, they were consistently the nicest and friendliest of the bunch. I continued spending time with members of the Navigators because I liked them and I felt comfortable around them. And for the first time I was intrigued by Christianity and I wanted to learn more about it. So I got involved with a freshman Bible study and joined some of my friends in regularly attending CRC. And it didn’t take long after that before I came to profess Christ as my Savior and Lord.

Accepting the reality of sin was one of the most challenging things I’ve ever had to do. I didn’t want to believe that deep down, I and everyone I knew was a sinner. Admitting that to myself, though, enabled me to truly embrace the fact that Jesus went to the cross as our substitute. His death paid the penalty for all of our sins. And when I realized that, I understood what it meant to truly be free.

Praying for the first time; being surrounded by people singing praise songs and joining in with all sincerity and joy . . . it was something really sweet. Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5:17, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” And indeed I was a new creation; the mind-numbing pain and despair I’d known in high school didn’t seem insurmountable anymore. I still had struggles, of course, but I didn’t have to face them alone. Being able to ask someone to pray for you . . . it can be easy to forget, sometimes, just how amazing that is, that your brothers and sisters will go before the Lord on your behalf.

Jesus tells his disciples, “For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them” (Matthew 18:20). I’ve seen that, and I’ve experienced that firsthand. I’ve seen and even felt how God is glorified by the faithful gathering to praise His name. And not just during church services or large-group fellowship meetings, but on an individual basis too. “A new command I give you,” the Lord said. “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:34-35).

I praise God that He brought me here to Dartmouth and I praise Him that He led me to this wonderful church, because through the faithful witness of the saints He brought me to His Son."

Hanover and back, part II (Or, Amtrak defeated)

The lengthy journey to the Upper Valley behind me, I had a terrific weekend in Hanover. The highlight was getting to see Ellen, of course! (Video-Skype just isn't the same thing.) I also saw a number of Dartmouth friends who were on campus for Sophomore Summer or grad school. The Information Age has produced some remarkable innovations to help people stay in touch, but there's nothing like a good face-to-face conversation.

And for my revenge against Amtrak: I bought a car!



Alright, so maybe the whole purpose of my trip to Dartmouth last weekend was to pick up the car and I didn't do it in retaliation for my bad travel experience. But even so, I won't be needing Amtrak's services anymore! While on the subject of automotive triumphs, I was treated to a drive in Dartmouth EMS's brand-new flycar. It's a terrific piece of equipment that is the result of endless hours of dedication and hard work by some very committed people. My heartfelt congratulations to Ryan Speers, Jeff Spielberg and everyone else who labored long and hard to make this a reality.

While I was in Hanover, Don Willeman, the pastor at Christ Redeemer Church, asked me if I would be willing to share my testimony of faith at church on Sunday. I considered it a privilege to oblige. You can listen to it here or, if you're like me and can't stand the sound of my recorded voice, I'll post the text shortly.

Hanover and back (Or, The war with Amtrak)

It's 2:45 AM on Saturday morning. I'm standing in a dark parking lot in Middle-of-Nowhere, VT, with only thick tendrils of mist for company. And it's all Amtrak's fault.

The journey began at 1 pm the previous day when I boarded a clean and spacious train leaving sunny Buffalo, the first leg of my weekend trip to Hanover. All went extremely smoothly at first, and we even put into Schenectady, NY at the precise minute printed on the schedule (when was the last time you saw an airplane do that?). There was a scheduled 2.5 hour layover, which was plenty of time for a quick hamburger with some exploring for dessert. In addition to Union College (Dartmouth's old ECAC hockey foe), Schenectady is home to General Electric, which was called the Edison Electric Company when Thomas Edison founded it in 1878. Quite a neat town.

The trouble started when I asked the stationmaster from which track my train, which was due to arrive in three minutes, would be departing. He wasn't sure, so he made the appropriate inquiries and came back with the news that it would be delayed approximately 55 minutes. That didn't actually answer my question but was good enough for the time being (it ended up coming on Track 2). When the train finally arrived, loaded/unloaded passengers and luggage and resumed its journey with me aboard, it was running more than 90 minutes behind schedule. Even this wouldn't have been a problem if the train had exceeded 40 miles an hour for the rest of the trip, but it didn't. They held us for an additional 45 minutes at one station for a mechanical inspection but apparently could not correct the problem.

We finally pulled into our final destination only to be shown the door by an impatient stationmaster. While his eagerness to go home could but equal mine, his means to do so were far superior. A flick of the lightswitch and a turn of the key and he was homeward bound. And so I found myself alone with the Amtrak parking lot in all its dark, dank splendor. Fortunately relief came quickly in the form of Ellen, who drove me back to Hanover and a long-overdue reunion with my sleeping bag in a friend's apartment.

More to come on this trip soon (including my revenge against Amtrak), but one positive from the Amtrak (mis)adventure was that I had a chance to finish my book. Sheldon Vanauken's A Severe Mercy came highly recommended by a friend, who called it the best book she had read in a long time. Vanauken recounts "the spiritual autobiography" of the love he shared with his wife before her premature illness and death, including their conversion to Christianity and the grief that followed her passing. Yale- and Oxford-educated and a longtime correspondent with C.S. Lewis (some of their letters are shared in the book), Vanauken is insightful in a simultaneously subtle and profound way. I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in poetry, love, faith or God. If you're in or near Hanover now, there's a copy in Berry lower level.

Paramedic school begins

I began paramedic school yesterday. We had a full-day orientation where the instructors introduced the didactic and clinical components of the program, walked us through volumes of paperwork and gave us a tour of the lab facilities. There are sixteen of us in the day session (there's also a separate night class), and I'm among the youngest both age-wise and experience-wise. There are five EMT-Intermediates, one combat medic and a couple EMT-Basics who have been in EMS since before I could walk. It's exciting to be learning with an experienced and dedicated group of providers.

The course consists of classroom lecture, lab-based skills practice and a rigorous exam schedule in addition to extensive clinical and field rotations. There's a lot of work but it's easy to stay motivated. I'm accountable not only to myself and my instructors but also to my future patients. They will need me then to have mastered this material now.

The EMS facilities at the community college are more than adequate, but the rest of the campus is not quite as advanced. I noticed the following label on a door:










And then I noticed where the door was located:











It's going to be a good year!

Arrival in Buffalo + How to Beat a Mosquito Bite

I arrived safely in Buffalo on Saturday, where I'll be staying with my college roommate and his family. They have been the epitome of friendliness and hospitality, and I'm excited to be living with them for the year. Jenny, their dog, is a great lover of turkey sandwiches, as all dogs seem to be. I was pleased to discover that while she will sit and beg for a bite of my sandwich, she will not take matters into her own paws. This is a pleasant change from Sadie, the Willemans' beagle, who once scaled a table and scarfed down half a sandwich without leaving behind so much as a crumb . . . all in the fifteen seconds it took me to retrieve something I'd left in the next room.

Paramedic classes begin on Thursday. I'm taking the program through a nearby community college. The campus is located within view of Ralph Wilson Stadium, where the Buffalo Bills play, but fortunately there are no classes on Sundays. I swung by yesterday to take a look at the facilities. As a whole, the campus is somewhat spartan but seems perfectly adequate for my needs. The EMS lab setup looks great, and I was impressed by the faculty when I interviewed back in the spring, so I'm excited for the year!

My once and current roommate, Chris, gave me the driving tour of the area yesterday, which included such highlights as the Bills' stadium and Chestnut Ridge Park, a neat WPA project that features a toboggan chute and a small lodge for winter recreation and an expansive Frisbee golf course for warmer weather, along with assorted picnic pavilions, tennis courts and the like. Rumor has it you can see Toronto on a clear day. The next item on my sightseeing list is Niagara Falls. It's a beautiful area, and the only drawback is that Ellen is 416 long miles away . . .

In other news, I heard an interesting tip on the radio last week. If you suffer a mosquito bite, it said, apply anti-perspirant to the bite site. The aluminum ions in the anti-perspirant will draw fluid away from the bite and will eliminate swelling and itching. I tried it out after getting bitten on Thursday and found that it worked extraordinarily well. So in honor of the new GI Joe movie, now you know, and knowing is half the battle.

Mapquest: 1, Humans: 0

Here's a hypothetical situation for you: An ambulance crew is on its way from New Hampshire to a hospital in Peabody, outside Boston, on Friday afternoon. The Mapquest directions are simple: Take I-93 S to I-95 / MA-128 N and get off at Exit 26. Upon exiting from 93 onto 95 / 128, however, the intrepid crew notices that the exit numbers are going up, not down: 37 . . . 38 . . . 39 . . . 40. The crew pulls off the highway and calls the destination hospital for assistance. The hospital operator listens to the crew's dilemma and declares, "I don't know how to get here from there." The quick-thinking, dashingly handsome driver asks to speak to someone who DOES know how to get there from here and is connected to the ICU, where the staffer tells him, "Turn around and come back the way you came." After confirming its current location and the ICU staffer's instructions, the ambulance crew gets back on the highway.

Half an hour later, the ambulance crew arrives at Exit 26 and finds that none of the subsequent turns and road names listed on the Mapquest fax exist in Waltham, MA. Stopping at a pharmacy to ask for directions, the crew is informed that Peabody is approximately 26 miles away. The helpful pharmacist pulls out a map and shows the driver that I-95 / 128 run together until Exit 44, and then I-95 veers off and 128 continues starting at Exit 28 and counting DOWN. Flabbergasted, the driver--who had specifically asked the ICU staffer if the exits start over--thanked the pharmacist and returned to the ambulance.

The crew once more got on I-95 N and almost immediately began cruising at 5 mph, a victim of Boston's Friday traffic. Eventually the ambulance arrived at the hospital, but what should have been just over a two-hour trip took five hours. It's a good thing this is purely a hypothetical situation, but it's enough to make a hypothetical EMT switch to Google Maps.

In other news, not one but two business establishments left me scratching my head this week. The first an eatery near the ambulance station which proudly advertises "Breakfast served every day" immediately above the sign announcing "Closed Tuesdays." The other was the opening of an adult-toys emporium three doors down from a pro-life pregnancy center. It would appear the zoning board has a sense of irony.

Buffalo is T - 6 days and counting . . .