Sometimes They Still Call Me Doc

I’ve lost track of how many people have called me Doc. It’s not a small number. And it’s still growing. 

Working at the VA is an interesting thing. It’s kept me connected to the military community. But that is a double edged sword at times. The memories stay fresh.

I loved my time in the army. I especially loved being a medic. It was something that came with a responsibility I haven’t had since. That responsibility came with the aforementioned title, “Doc”. Some soldiers give it freely to match the title, others make you earn it. But they all expect the best out of you. That best includes a decent bag of tricks. 

Being able to keep someone breathing, and stop their bleeding is the basic responsibility of a medic in a field unit. IVs, IOs, tourniquets, pressure bandages, crics, occlusive dressings,  needle decompression, pain management, and more. It’s a lot of skills. It’s a dynamic set augmented by rotations in clinics, and other training and classes. It’s a skill set I strived to perfect and grown over a little more than four years.

I didn’t want to leave it behind. But leaving the army meant leaving those skills on a back burner. It wasn’t what I meant to do. But the licensing/credentialing the army awards you on outprocessing is far far less than your skills. The pay opportunities are also less. So I found myself sanitizing instruments. Not touching a patient. Not truly using any skills. And quietly drowning on the inside. 

After a year there I had the opportunity to transition to a new position. A job as a CNA at the VA. It was in the long term care unit, rehab and hospice patients. But I jumped at the chance for some patient care again. I’ve worked other floors in the hospital too. It’s a breath of absolute fresh air after my last environment. Most days I wind up in Hospice. It’s tough and it’s given me some purpose again. 

Now I am beyond grateful for this opportunity. I truly am. But it’s not exactly where I want to be yet. I get to grab blood sugars and interact and help patients. But I can’t do a single one of the skills I listed above. Not on the job. And it’s heartbreaking.

I watch nurses, techs, and others struggle to do skills that I used to do in the literal dark. This is no fault of the people I work with. They are both capable and competent, we were just trained differently. The amount of live repetitions I had in training and practice with blood draws and IVs far exceeds what nurses do in school. That’s just the way it is. But it hurts to not do it myself. To have to ask for help.

There’s something that doesn’t help. A lot of patients call be doc. Especially the Army and Marine vets. The topic of service comes up. They find out I’m a fellow vet and medic. Then the title comes back. I’m doc all over again. I feel like I belong again.

But it’s another double edged sword. I never deployed. Most of these guys did. I was medically discharged due to training injuries. Things I’ve fought and trained to recover from. But I’ll never match their service. It makes me feel almost a fraud some days.

I miss the belonging of the Army. I miss those I served with. I miss the sense of purpose. I miss the skills I could use. I miss the respect I felt I earned and respected.

Some days it’s nice to hear the word “doc” again. Other days it hurts.

I don’t know how to reconcile that. I don’t know how to fill that hole. But I’m trying to. So I can feel like I deserve the respect again.