And so, today, instead of riding horses, I instead attended the second day of a wilderness first responder recertification course. I’m now glad I did it although at times I wished I was out in the woods, peering at the first buds on the fiddle head ferns. Instead, I had to content myself with doing multiple scenarios: As in, what do you do if someone has a heart attack, appendicitis, a dislocated shoulder, or a broken femur.

The day started out with us going over a practice exam that our instructor had sent us a few weeks ago. She surprised us all by announcing that there would be no final exam at the day’s end. Rather, the review would be our exam.

In the Bob Marshal Wilderness Area

And I thought, what a great teacher, to do it this way. Unbeknownst to Dorothy, her students were not on this very glorious day, thinking about the test but rather about the tasks at hand, which was doing the scenarios.

The majority of students were very take-charge individuals. This goes with the wilderness first responder territory. They all knew that they needed to figure out what to do in class so that they might put it to practice outside of class. Me? I was not as assertive as the others because wilderness first response is somewhat tangential to what I do. I suppose that someone like Sheila, who is a very out of shape volunteer, might have a stroke or a heart attack when sorting and/or cleaning books. I would then be the one who’d have to take action. This is now a not so scary thought. I could do this, particularly if the setting was in what they call the front country, say by a phone which would be within hailing distance of an ambulance.

The high point of my day came at the end, during the last scenario. It was to be a quick one. I and another student came upon a fellow who had gut pain. I knew, when he said it was on his left side, that he had appendicitis. The guy assisting me hadn’t a clue. The teacher, she knew this.

It was a great group of students, five guys, three women. Some of the guys were handsome. I couldn’t help but think that if I was many years younger that perhaps the sparks would have flown with a few of them. Alas, the match didn’t even get lit. It seems like for women, when you hit menopause, you hit it hard. After, life is never the same. Our one consolation is that we are indeed wiser.

Next: 141. 5/23/22: Catching ZZZzzz’s