A Loyal Subject

During my first EMS course, our instructor asked why we wanted to be EMTs. Most of us cited public service as a consideration, but one student—a firefighter in the same district as our classroom—had a different take.

“I just want to be there for my brother firefighters,” he said, all but dismissing the possibility he might be caring for people who don’t man hoses in the middle of the night. I remember thinking there might be some value to his sense of loyalty even if I wouldn’t qualify for medical assistance on his watch.

Loyalty is a virtue I prize. When I feel it, I give it without wondering whether it will be reciprocated. Loyalty, like honesty, shouldn’t depend on how others think. Once earned, loyalty is a way of saying thanks for being there and really meaning it.

Here’s how I show loyalty:

Talking behind your back: When you’re the topic of conversation in absentia, I’ll make sure you have at least one ally.

Preferential treatment: I’ll pass along opportunities that might interest you.

Responding to emergencies: I’ll do my best to answer up when you need me.

The open-fly provision: When there’s a clear and present danger of indignity, I’ll let you know as delicately as possible.

Some people are more attuned to communal loyalty; a loyal Red Sox fan, for example—not a bad thing to be since last October, but much less committed than the kind of loyalty I’m talking about. When I feel loyalty, I want to give back—to help as I was helped. Sports fans and their teams don’t owe each other anything.

Loyalty to EMS sounds as superficial to me as any other institutional allegiance. It’s hard for me to feel loyal to an industry. Consider the well-meaning provider who credits EMS for professional development; that’s a nice sentiment but hard to support with gestures of loyalty. Perhaps I’m missing a spiritual connection or two.

Do I owe EMS? I’ve thought about that a lot since leaving the field. My life was more interesting and less predictable on ambulances than in offices. The daily challenges of patient care raised the stakes of problem-solving; the highs were higher and the lows lower. Corporate life—an occupational endpoint my high-school classmates and I were hard-wired to chase—turned out to be tedious compared to patient care. I’m glad I discovered that 22 years ago before committing to another two decades of desktop decision-making.

Those big, boring businesses where I got my start paid pretty well, though, and allowed me to raise a family-and-a-half with much less struggle than I would have faced as a 21-year-old paramedic. I haven’t thought much about the gap between my theoretical and actual earnings—until now. Let’s just say whatever I might have owed EMS for a ticket to the urban version of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride has been paid in full.

I feel loyalty to people, not organizations; in EMS that means:

Partners: It’s hard to overstate the importance of compatible coworkers. When pairings click, there’s a sense of shared proficiency greater than the sum of individual skills. There’s also fundamental trust that makes it easier to confront unknown aspects of every scene. More than once partners compensated for my inadequate situational awareness. It’s hard not to feel loyal to people who help you get home safely.

Instructors: The best teachers don’t limit their availability to classrooms or office hours. I remember more than one frantic phone call I made to instructors who knew the difference between bad students and bad days. Those who went beyond the curriculum to answer questions and offer assistance earned my loyalty.

Employers: I never signed a contract, but I always felt my employers and I had an understanding: As long as I was conscientious and competent, my boss would provide the salary and benefits promised when I was hired. That might not sound special, but 40 years of working for others convinced me that in the workplace, fairness alone is worthy of loyalty.

There’s a fourth group very much an object of my loyalty: you, our readers. You didn’t have to browse this magazine, and you didn’t have to turn to this page. Thank you for doing so. I promise I’ll keep trying to deliver content that meets your standards every month. It’s a matter of loyalty.

Mike Rubin, BS, NREMT-P, is a paramedic in Nashville, TN, and a member of EMS World’s editorial advisory board. Contact him at mgr22@prodigy.net.