L’eggo My Ego

Reading Time: 5 minutes

Alright, flight nurses and medics—pull up that wobbly camp chair, because this old paramedic’s got some tales and a nudge for you. I’ve been rattling around in these tin cans since pagers were the hot ticket, and I’ve seen the full show—saves that’d make you cheer, flops that’d make you groan, and egos bigger than my uncle’s prized pickup. This is aimed at you sky riders, but don’t fool yourself: the stuff we’re digging into isn’t just a flight thing. It’s all over EMS and medicine—ambulances bouncing down backroads, ERs humming like beehives, even some doc’s cushy office with framed degrees. So, grab that lukewarm coffee, and let’s unpack why some folks wince when we roll in, why a few of you wear that dislike like a prize ribbon, and what to do when the same old mistakes keep stacking up like junk mail.

You’ve been there: chopper touches down, you step out, flight suit looking sharp, and the ground crew’s already got that “here we go” look. Maybe it’s because you’re tossing out zingers like “this splint’s a mess” or “you call that a handoff?” I’ve been that guy—swooped in, chest puffed, acting like I wrote the book on trauma, ‘til a rookie EMT told me to stuff my attitude. Knocked me down faster than a missed IV. You’ve got to flag the errors—lives are on the line—but there’s a way to do it without coming off like a jerk. And bragging about how much they can’t stand you? That’s no win. It’s not just us flyers—walk into any ER, hop in any rig, peek in a clinic, and you’ll spot the same nonsense in different shades.

The “They Hate Me” Hall of Fame

Let’s call out the folks who strut around like “Oh, they can’t stand me—means I’m the real deal.” I’ve heard it everywhere—flight hangars smelling of fuel, ambulance bays thick with exhaust, hospital break rooms stale with bad coffee: “Those crews dread me showing up—proof I’m on top.” Nope. If they dislike you, it’s not a medal; it’s a glaring sign you’re dropping the ball on the human side. I’ve sat with ground teams swapping stories, ER nurses rolling their eyes, even clinic staff chuckling about some know-it-all—“Here comes Mr. Perfect, ready to tell us we’re clueless.” They don’t mind you because you’re skilled; they mind you because you act like they’re beneath you, whether you’re swinging from a bird, a rig, or strolling in with a clipboard. I knew a flight medic who thought it was a riot how a rural crew groaned at his arrival—took him half a year to realize they weren’t impressed, just tired of his attitude. Drop that junk—it’s a mark you don’t need, no matter your gig.

Trust: Ain’t in the Playbook

When you roll in—blades spinning, sirens wailing, or just walking up with a stethoscope—you’re not just bringing skills; you’re bringing a chance to connect. Those folks don’t know I’m the sap who gets teary over shelter dog ads or that I’ve got a weakness for old jukebox tunes. They see the role—flight medic, EMT, nurse, doc—and brace for a lecture. So, ease up. Instead of “this IV’s a disaster,” try “hey, I’ve botched worse—want a tip?” Boom—you’re not some sky boss or paper-pushing tyrant; you’re the vet who’s been in their boots. They’ll stop dodging you when they see you’re with them, not over them. That’s true anywhere—air, pavement, or hospital tiles. I’ve seen it work: softened a critique with a grin and a “been there,” and the medic went from tense to curious, even hit me up later for advice. Still getting the cold shoulder? Might be time to look at your own approach.

Step Up or Shut Your Trap

Here’s the deal: if you keep seeing the same slip-ups—handoffs that sound like a bad joke, airways that look like a kid’s craft project, whatever—why are you still just complaining? Don’t go naming names or pointing fingers like a tattletale. Toss out a casual line: “Hey, we’re noticing some trends—want to do a quick training session?” Keep it light, make it useful, not some dull classroom slog. Heck, throw in some swag—pens that actually write, stickers for their gear, maybe a mug that doesn’t look like it’s been through a blender. I’ve done it—rolled in with a “let’s level up” smile, no blame, just good energy. Crews walked away sharper, and I didn’t come off like a nag. That’s not just for us flyers—ambulance crews, ER folks, clinic workers, all of ‘em need this. I once ran a little “splinting basics” after too many shaky jobs—brought some cheap caps, cracked a few laughs, and they still bring it up. Quit whining if you’re not going to help fix it. Complaining’s easy; stepping up’s what counts.

The “Hopeless” Ones Might Be on You

Got someone you’ve written off? “This guy can’t find his own pulse”? Hold on—maybe they’re struggling because of how you’re handling it. If you’re always the smug one—jumpsuit, gear, or lab coat—they’ll clam up faster than a bar at last call. I’ve been there—labeled a medic a lost cause ‘til I quit acting superior. Gave him a “nice effort” or “you’re close” instead of a scoff, and soon he’s perking up when I roll in. Not because I’m some genius, but because I didn’t keep knocking him down. Respect’s like fuel—give a little, and they’ll start moving. I’ve watched it turn a guy from “I hate this job” to “hey, what do you think?” in weeks. That’s real anywhere—sky, street, or bedside.

We’ve All Messed Up

Let’s be honest: you didn’t start with wings, a badge, or a fancy degree on the wall. I once coded a mannequin—pumping like a lunatic, sweat dripping, ‘til some smartass muttered, “It’s fake, man.” Still haunts me like a bad dream. So when you roll in—chopper, rig, or clinic—acting like Ricky Bobby, “pissing excellence,” think back to your own flops. I’ve taken patients from pros and rookies all over, handed out props and “try this” chats. Never had one storm off ready to fight, though. Why? I didn’t treat their mistake like my big win. They’d grin when I showed, saying, “Oh good, I might learn something.” That’s the target, no matter if you’re flying, driving, or just pacing the halls. Heck, I still chuckle about tripping over my own bag rushing a patient—keeps me real.

Dogs, Jerks, and You

Here’s my measure: want to know someone’s heart? Watch how they treat dogs. Puppy gets a pat? Good soul. Same deal here. Check how they handle the shaky EMT, the volunteer greener than fresh lime, or the nurse one step from burnout—flight, ground, or hospital. Patience over attitude? That’s your winner. I’d rather give a newbie a high-five and see ‘em light up than rag on ‘em and watch ‘em shrink—more fun, less jerk points. I’ve seen a flight nurse turn a nervous kid’s day with a nod and a “you’re doing fine”—that’s the kind of thing that lasts.

Wrap It Up, Everybody

Next time you land, roll in, or clock on—lose the cape and that dumb “they hate me” brag. Be the one they’re glad to see, not because you’re flawless, but because you’ve got their back. Fix things with solutions, not gripes—every corner of EMS and medicine needs that. Keep your head down, toss out a joke, and don’t be the jerk who thinks their ride or title’s a crown. We’re all just trying to keep folks breathing, and a little kindness goes a long way. Plus, it’s a heck of a lot better to be the one they cheer for than the one they roast later.

Stay safe, keep it loose,
The Humbled Medic