Chapter 1: Don’t Try 

Introduction

Yo, you badass EMS and nursing warriors! It’s The Humbled Medic, your grizzled paramedic pal, clocking in from the sweaty, chaotic trenches of the ambulance life on this wild Sunday. I just survived a shift that smelled like antiseptic, desperation, and burnt station coffee. I’ve been hauling stretchers, dodging bodily fluids, and keeping my shit together through code blues for two decades. This ain’t some fluffy self-help nonsense; this is raw, no-bullshit wisdom for thriving in our insane world of emergency medicine.
Welcome to the first chapter. Grab that lukewarm coffee, pray your pager stays quiet, and let’s dive into Chapter 1: Don’t Try. Time to learn how to save lives without losing your fucking mind.

Don’t Try

Alright, you glorious bastards on the frontline, listen up. Our job is a shitstorm of epic proportions. I’ve had drunks puke on my boots mid-call, patients code while I’m wrestling a monitor, and supervisors lose their shit over a misplaced comma on a chart. Back in my rookie days, I was like Charles Bukowski, that drunken poet asshole, stumbling through shifts with a bottle of cheap whiskey in one hand and a trauma bag in the other. I dreamed of being the greatest paramedic to ever grace a rig. For years, I got nothing but rejection letters from promotions, reamed out by ER docs, and drowned my sorrows in booze after every shift. 10 years of that grind, and I was ready to torch my uniform and walk away.

Then, out of nowhere, some crusty old EMS director, who probably hadn’t seen sunlight since the Reagan era, gave me a shot at a leadership role. I grabbed it, scribbled my own damn playbook in three weeks, and called it Ambulance Blues. Dedicated it to “nobody,” because fuck it, that’s how I was feeling. Here’s the real shit: the American Dream crap about never giving up and always pushing harder is only half the story. Bukowski’s tombstone says “Don’t Try,” and now I get it. My breakthrough wasn’t about becoming some EMS saint or beating impossible odds. It was about owning my fuck-ups, my burnout, and my messy, unshakable love for this chaotic job. I stopped giving a fuck about being the perfect medic and leaned into being me: flawed, loud, and real as hell. That’s when shit started to click.

In EMS and nursing, the world screams at us to be more: faster response times, happier patients, perfect stats to impress the suits. But that’s a fucking trap. It’s all about what you don’t have: more sleep, less trauma, a shift that doesn’t make you question your life choices. Next thing you know, you’re staring into a cracked locker room mirror, muttering, “I’m a badass,” because you feel like a total wreck. Here’s the truth: no one who’s truly solid needs to fake it with pep talks. The key is giving fewer fucks about the petty bullshit and saving them for what matters: saving that overdose, keeping your partner safe, not chasing the chief’s approval. It’s a subtle art, and we’re gonna master it together.

The Feedback Loop from Hell

Ever get stuck in that mind-fuck spiral where your brain turns on you like a pissed-off patient? You’re anxious as hell after a bad call, maybe a kid didn’t make it, and then you start stressing about why you’re so anxious. Boom, now you’re anxious about being anxious, reaching for the nearest tequila bottle or punching the rig’s dashboard. Or maybe you’re pissed at a patient who cussed you out for a bumpy ride, then pissed at yourself for being pissed, and now you’re raging at the universe for dealing you this shit hand. Welcome to the Feedback Loop from Hell, folks: our brain’s twisted little gift, like a patient who keeps seizing just to mess with you.

I’ve been there, trust me. After a shift where a kid coded on my watch, I’d spiral hard. Why am I so shaken? Why can’t I shake it? Fuck, I’m a failure! But here’s the deal: that’s just being human. We overthink because we can, unlike my dog who just licks his balls and naps without a care. The problem? Social media and those damn break room chats are flooded with people flexing their perfect shifts: textbook saves, viral TikToks, while you’re scraping vomit off your boots. That loop’s an epidemic: stress eating you alive, burnout creeping in, self-loathing whispering in your ear. Back in the old days, my grandpa would shrug off a bad call with, “Back to the stretcher, kid,” but now? Five minutes of feeling like crap, and we’re comparing ourselves to the ER doc who just went viral for a slick procedure.

The fix is simple but brutal: don’t give a fuck about feeling bad. Look yourself in the eye, mirror optional, and say, “Yeah, this sucks, but who gives a shit?” Watch that loop short-circuit like a monitor with a bad battery. George Orwell said seeing what’s in front of you takes a constant struggle, and he’s right. We’re drowning in first-world problems: too many calls, too little sleep, that admin meeting that could’ve been an email, while missing the real truth: life’s a mess, always has been, always will be. Embrace it, or it’ll chew you up and spit you out like a bad burrito.

The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck

Not giving a fuck doesn’t mean turning into a zombie with a pulse oximeter. That’s a psychopath, and we’ve got enough of those in the psych ward. It’s about being cool with being different, owning your weird-ass quirks. Indifferent people? They’re lame couch potatoes hiding from life because they’re scared shitless of screwing up. That’s not us. We give fucks about our patients fighting for breath, our crew watching our backs, that perfect IV stick that makes your day, but not about the petty crap: the charge nurse with a stick up her ass, the gurney that jams at the worst moment, that soul-sucking admin meeting.

Take my friend getting screwed over by a shady “friend” a few years back. I didn’t shrug and sip my coffee like some hipster barista. I got pissed and said, “Fuck that, we’re lawyering up and going after this bastard.” That’s not indifference; that’s caring about what matters. Not giving a fuck means flipping the bird to adversity for your values: saving that overdose kid, standing up to a dickhead doc who’s wrong, keeping your cool when the family’s screaming. It’s about saving your fucks for the big stuff: your partner’s safety, that patient’s pulse coming back, a cold beer after a 24-hour shift. And here’s the kicker: people respect that grit. You can’t change lives without pissing some people off. Deal with it, and wear it like a badge of honor.

Let’s break it down with some subtleties:

• Subtlety #1: Not giving a fuck means being comfy with being different. Own your quirks. My love for blasting Metallica during codes ain’t for everyone, but it keeps me sane when the shit hits the fan. You’ve got your own weird; embrace it.
• Subtlety #2: You gotta give a fuck about something bigger than the shitstorm. That old lady yelling over a 50-cent coupon? She’s got nothing else to live for. Find your “something.” Mine’s getting my crew home safe; maybe yours is nailing that trauma response. Without it, you’re just flailing.
• Subtlety #3: You’re always choosing what to give a fuck about. Kids cry over dumb shit like a blue Band-Aid; we learn to pick our battles. I used to lose sleep over a bad review, but now? I let it slide. Maturity’s realizing most of it, late charts, petty complaints, doesn’t matter a damn. As Bunk Moreland from The Wire would say, “That’s what you get for giving a fuck when it wasn’t your turn to give a fuck.”

So Humbled Medic, What the Fuck Is the Point of This Blog Anyway?

This series is about sorting out what’s worth a fuck in our chaotic world: your patients, your sanity, that perfect suture. We’re in a psychological shitstorm where sucking sometimes feels like a career-ender. But it’s not. It’s life, especially ours. I’m here to help you figure out what to care about and what to let slide, turning trauma into grit instead of running from it. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being real, showing up, and doing the job. That’s the EMS way, and we’re gonna own it.

Closing

That’s the deal for now, you beautiful lifesavers. Save your fucks for what matters: the patient, the crew, the fight. Let go of the bullshit that drags you down. Next post, we’ll dive into why happiness is a fucking problem and how to wrestle it like a pro. Stay tough, keep your gloves on, and give a fuck about what’s real. Catch you on the next call!

To be Continued- Next Monday!

The Humbled Medic out.