"Is That For Real Or Are You Just Paranoid?"

I had the strangest CPR class experience on Sunday.
CPR is required to be a PT student at Mercer - I received instructions for matriculation rather late into the summer, and in my haste signed up for a free first aid CPR class offered by the local fire station in Macon. Thinking that I was set for the next two years, I began class at Mercer... only to find out that I had neglected a small piece of fine print on the CPR directions:

"Only BLS for healthcare providers CPR will be accepted."

And so, $65 later, I found myself enrolled in BLS for healthcare providers. I breezed through the online test (Considering I had *ahem* already taken the same...exact...test...) and found myself Sunday morning at the physical location of where my CPR exam would be.

In about 5 minutes, I had gotten out of the car, made friends with a blonde girl who looked equally as lost and sketched-out as I, and learned that Kacey was a 1st year PT student at Emory. There was a hobo sleeping on the sidewalk and we couldn't find an open entrance to the building. After calling the CPR company number we discovered that the instructor was running behind, so we waited until a man came running up in green scrubs with an "Atlanta CPR" label embroidered on the back and opened the door. About 5 other people shuffled in at about the same time and we sat in small wooden desks inside the CPR exam room, which was just a room in an office building filled with dummies of various sizes and breathing masks.

About 2 minutes in I noted that we had a rather vivacious CPR instructor who spent about 20 minutes of the allotted hour highlighting his life, from his divorce to the woman who had hit on him a couple of months ago, to his early experiences as a male nurse.

"You're PT? He laughed at Kasey and I. Oh, so I should go easy on you, because PT's don't do any work, isn't that right - ha - ha!"

I was not amused, and I imagine Kasey was not, either.

The test finally proceeded, and I was rather relieved to discover that the exam was not individual - we did everything together as a group - and I am fairly sure there was no actual way to fail the exam (I'll admit I had been getting a little stage fright prior to this exam, worrying I'd forget how many times I'm supposed to do the Heimlich maneuver before lowering a patient to the ground to perform CPR and breaths).

Towards the end of the class, after the CPR instructor seemed to have hit on about 2 of the 5 women in the class, and after he had demonstrated literally punching a dummy in the chest. "Was that two inches?!?" he asked.

It was finally time to conclude this test, and I pulled out my meter. I tested to reveal a 90 mg/dL much to my delight.
Mr. CPR instructor came over just then, and in a booming voice, asked,

"Is that for real  or are you just paranoid?"

I stared at him for a second, tilting my head, perplexed. "Uhh.... no, it's real. I'm Type 1."

CPR Instructor went on. "Because, you know, a LOT of healthcare providers get paranoid that they are catching whatever their patients have! You treat a patient with an ankle injury and next thing you know, you wake up and have one! HA!"

I stared at him some more. "Were that it only a figment of my imagination, except it's not," I retorted a little snidely.

"So what are you? HIGH or LOW?" he asked obnoxiously.
"90,"  I remarked proudly.

"OOH, hear that class, Lacy is 90! WOW! Stellar Diabetic, STELLAR!" I laughed a little, shaking my head, wishing I could just get my CPR card and leave. Finally, about 20 minutes later (and 20 minutes after we were supposed to leave, I finally filed out of the cramped room with my $65 BLS healthcare provider card, shaking off the weird experience as just another "strange Atlanta thing."

The things I do to be a PT.