I am a Certified Medical Assistant

I don’t write about my career as a medical assistant very much. I feel bad about that sometimes, but I think that after nine hours on my feet, dealing with every complaint imaginable – and those just from my co-workers (just kidding) – I like to go into my own little world and make believe with you all.

Once in a while, though, I should pay tribute to my career and this week I would be remiss if I didn’t pay tribute to the individual who got me here. Who got all medical assistants where they are today.

Alice Budny was a young woman working at a doctor’s office in Milwaukee. People of the time may have called her the “office girl”, but she saw something more. She was a medical assistant and proud of it. She wanted medical assistants around the nation to be recognized.

She was in her mid-twenties when she became one of the founding members of the Milwaukee County Medical Assistants in 1945. Ten years later, she and Lois Pluckhan formed the Wisconsin State Medical Assistants Society. She wouldn’t stop there, though. Later that same year, Alice and Lois were invited to Kansas to aid in the formation of a national association for medical assistants. In 1956, Alice chaired the community which hosted the first ever national convention of the American Association of Medical Assistants held at the Pfister Hotel in Milwaukee.

The last time I saw Alice, in 2004, at the state convention in LaCrosse, she was still promoting the profession of medical assisting. She was tireless in her commitment to the organizations she helped to build. Over the years she had even offered testimony before Congress on questions of professional practice and national health care. Where is she today when our nation is in a health care crisis?

I learned earlier this week that on November 5 Alice had peacefully passed away.

Where else did I fly?

Over the next several years I attended three more AAMA conventions: Greensboro, North Carolina; Colorado Springs, Colorado; Louisville, Kentucky.

Greensboro was beautiful. It was fall back home but in North Carolina in October summer was just beginning to wan. We toured Old Salem, more old houses from the 1700s, another Williamsburg look-alike, but still cool. I was the state society president that year, so was introduced at the president’s banquet. My constituents – I mean my fellow members – bought me a corsage and everything.

The following year we went to Colorado Springs. If you remember from a blog a year ago, I lived in Colorado for a short time, so was excited to return there and bum around the old stomping grounds. My goodness, the changes that 20 years can make! I was the one this trip who rented the car to drive us all around, thinking I knew where I was going. Well, that didn’t work so well. I still managed to get us to Castlewood Canyon and the outlet mall in Castle Rock. One day I even met with my former sister-in-law and we had a nice visit.

The last convention I attended was in Louisville, Kentucky. I had been through there with my husband and kids ten years before. We had toured the Slugger Bat Factory at that time, so I skipped it this trip. Instead, we went to the Glassworks, a huge old building where they make all kinds of glass things, from blown glass vases and goblets to trinkets and bobbles. They have several rooms that they rent out and one was being set up for a wedding when we were there. Best part- it was within walking distance of the hotel.

I haven’t been to a convention since 2007. There is, however, a new state society in Hawaii. When they host the convention, you might be able to rope me into going to that one.

Motor City

September 2003, Detroit, Michigan. I wish I could think of good things to say about this trip. The bad certainly seemed to be everywhere, but in the end, I think it turned out all right.

The annual convention of the American Association of Medical Assistants took place in the Marriott Renaissance Center, a huge newly renovated hotel. It had over 70 stories and you had to take a separate elevator to get to the upper floors. I am claustrophobic and avoid elevators wherever possible. Well, when your room is on the 63^rd floor, the stairs are kind of out of the question.

The hotel was right on the Detroit River and just across from Windsor, Canada. The boardwalk along the river was picturesque and a great place for me to take a daily walk and get some fresh air. Other than that, I didn’t get out at all. A migraine plagued me the entire five days that I was there.

But I suppose I shouldn’t complain about a cheap trip. As a delegate representing the state of Wisconsin, I had my registration, room and most meals paid for. The obligation was that we – myself and the other four delegates - had to attend the entire national House of Delegates, voting on things that could affect the entire membership of the organization. Not usually any big deal. You probably know – or can guess – how governing boards function. Boring is the first thought that comes to mind.

I thrive on boring. But it wasn’t to be the case this time.

Any state society can present a proposal to the House for a vote. I don’t remember the exact details of the 2003 resolution which threw me into a tizzy, but the gist of it was that business sessions of the AAMA would open with prayer. I guess that years before the organization had done that until some state proposed ending the practice, and now some members wanted it back. The rest of the delegates from Wisconsin spent the entire day before the House of Delegates trying to convince me that I must vote against this proposal. They said that I was representing the state and that I had to vote what the majority wanted. They said that they had brought this issue before their local chapters and the feedback they got was that this resolution was not in the best interests of the organization. My local chapter was – and still is – not much of a factor. I was alone in deciding what was best for my area.

I respect all of the women I was with in Detroit; I considered them my friends back in 2003 and I still do today. I know that some of them are devote Christians and I would never question their faith. They only felt that forcing prayer onto the national organization was not the way to go. In theory, I agreed with that, but my heart just told me that by voting against prayer, I was being like Peter when he three times denied that he knew Jesus.

The day of the House of Delegates arrived. I got through all of the boring business stuff, I got through lunch, I got through the election of officers. And then it was time for the resolution. Discussion went on and on; everyone had a strong opinion and everyone wanted their opinion heard. It felt like hours passed while the debate continued. My stomach churned and my head pounded. Just call for the vote, I kept thinking, just call for the vote and somehow God will tell me what to do.

Well, God jumped in like He thankfully does sometimes. Instead of calling for the vote, someone – was it the Speaker of the House – I forget a lot of the details of parliamentary procedure – doesn’t really matter, because whoever it was moved instead that we kill the proposal. Instead of voting for or against it, we were going to vote to just make it go away.

Maybe another day I would be asked to stand up and defend my faith when it wasn’t the popular thing to do, but that fall day in Detroit, God bailed me out in my hour of need.

The City of Roses

I won’t bore you again with how I fell into the medical field but it’s time to tell you how I fell into the AAMA.

A few years after I graduated from medical assistant school, I took the certification exam to become a certified medical assistant. About that time is when I learned all about the American Association of Medical Assistants and their affiliate, the Wisconsin Society of Medical Assistants.

(Yes, I know. Boring! But bear with me.)

It didn’t take long for me to become entrenched in the state society, even to the point of running (on opposed) for president in 2004. The road to any presidency involves a few things. In this particular instance, it meant traveling to Chicago for a board meeting, followed by a trip to Portland, Oregon, for the national convention.

Ok, finally, you are thinking – the non-family trip she has promised us.

Portland is a beautiful city. We had a fantastic view of Mount Hood outside of our hotel window. And speaking of mountains, we took one day off, rented a mini-van and a group of us drove up to Mount St. Helens, a mere 50 miles away. Even though it had erupted nearly 25 years prior to my visit, the crater still resembled a moonscape, grey and barren. Outlying areas stilled showed evidence of the eruption which killed 57 people in May of 1980.

On the flip side, Portland is known as the City of Roses, so another day I took a bus tour to the beautiful International Rose Test Garden. Also included was a stop at the Pittock Mansion. By now you must be aware of my fascination with old houses, of any size, but the big fancy ones have to be the most fascinating.

Honestly, I did attend the required AAMA convention events (speakers and business sessions and receptions), but it hardly seems worth flying across country to a whole new city without seeing as much as you can. The one thing I missed was Powell’s Bookstore, known as the largest independent bookstore in the country, perhaps the world. It contains one million books and takes up an entire city block. I must get back there some day.

And I must admit, my head hanging, that these pictures are off the internet. I just didn’t want to take the time to scan my pictures and then tweak them to bring them up to the high standards you expect from my blog.