The Little Things

The following is an excerpt from an article that our chief emailed to our department a few weeks ago. It made me not only proud to live where I do but, more than that, it made me proud to work with the people that I do and serve in my line of work. It recounts one family's experience when they returned home after evacuating due to wildfires in California.
“As Ken Barker looks out from his deck at what used to be homes on Majestic Drive, he feels pretty lucky. The fire burned just a few feet from his home. He then realizes it wasn't luck, it was a battle, and the firefighters at his house won.
A small note is one of the first things Barker saw when his family returned home nearly a week after evacuating. The paper was placed under a lawn decoration on their doorstep.
"It's dated June 29th, and it says we removed one dead chicken from your coop. We gave them food and H20, signed Montana firefighters," Barker read.

Suicide

I have debated for a while whether I wanted to write about this. It is a tough subject to talk about. It is even a more difficult matter to deal with personally.The sad reality has become that my life has been directly affected by suicide in recent weeks and, judging by the increased number of suicide calls that most agencies seem to be responding to locally, this is something that is at the forefront of may people's minds.
I won't claim to be an expert on this subject. In fact I don't want to give the impression in any way, that I am even semi-knowledgeable about it. I simply want to share my thoughts based upon my direct experience with those have tried to take their own life or succeeded in doing so.

Teach and be Taught

Another ACLS class down today. (Advanced Cardiac Life Support to anyone who isn't used to all the medical abbreviations.) Why do I teach? Some days I seriously second-guess the answer. When I am slogging through cardiac algorithms with someone who has the perpetual deer-in-the-headlights look, I really wonder "Who in the world am I to make them understand this?"
Why on earth did I take on such a cumbersome task? Well, like most things, I pretty much fell into it without having a clue what I was really getting into. My adventures in teaching began while I was in paramedic school. Part of our medic curriculum was to take the CPR instructor course. Bam! I was in.

When I Cry

I know some think I'm coldhearted. I want to be compassionate. I want to let others know I care. I want to be there for you emotionally when you need me most. The sad truth though is that I have seen more heartache, chaos and tragedy than most people twice my age. I refuse to say that it has left me jaded. I will, however, admit that I have had to develop different coping mechanisms than everyone else. Sometimes, those coping mechanisms make me seem disconnected or uncaring. Don't let my stern face or lack of tears lead you to believe that I am not concerned.

When someone is having the worst day of their life, I get called out. When their world is being turned upside down, I have to be the solid force that tries to right the situation. When I get called to help, I don't have the choice to fall apart emotionally.

When You Least Expect It

"It looks like there was an accident," I hear my friend's son say in a muffled voice from the front seat of the van.
As my friend pulls to the side of the road and stops on the shoulder, I crank my neck and lean around the driver's seat to see what lies ahead. All I can see is the back end of the SUV directly in front of us. I yank open my door and lean out to assess the cause of what has halted our travel. The scene that greets me is the exact opposite of what I was hoping for. There are cars everywhere, some with noticeable damage, others with none. There are also dozens of people milling around of which I have no idea who are helpful passerby or who have actually been in the accident. There is also debris...lots of it. Shattered glass and plastic litter the roadway for at least the next 100 yards along with chunks of fenders and other unidentified objects that have been scattered from the damaged vehicles. I let out a sigh of relief when I see the flashing lights of a sheriff's vehicle already on scene at the far end of the debris field.
For a moment, I tilt my head to the side and silently hope for the distant sound of a responding ambulance. To my dismay, I hear nothing, absolutely nothing. In fact, for an accident scene, it is eerily quiet. My cardinal rule of coming upon any emergency is to let the responding crews do their job without interference from me. On this beautiful, calm, sunny morning, they are well out of earshot.
I suddenly realize that I have been stuttering incoherently and fumbling through my purse in search of my nitrile gloves. I find them right where they have been for the last several months, tucked neatly next to my CPR mask. I cast aside the mask and before I have a chance to talk myself out of it, I check for traffic and bail out of the van without saying a word.

Newbie Nerves

The only sound I can hear is the truck roaring to the next call with its sirens wailing. We have been summoned to assess a middle-aged male who reportedly had a seizure. My partner sits knee-to-knee with me in the jump seat. He's training to get his paramedic certification so he needs as many patient contacts as possible. Henceforth, this call is his. So was the last one...and the next one will be too. His jaw is set tight and I wonder for a brief moment if he is trying to keep himself from throwing up.

Heroes

Heroes. Real heroes. They don't wear capes. They can't defy gravity. They can't hold up a crumbling building with their bare hands but they will run into one to save what lives they can. And I haven't met one yet that has x-ray vision. The power they possess, however, is indeed superhuman. It is the power to hold back tears while doing CPR on a 3-year-old. It is the power to keep composure while holding a  bleeding man's head in your arms & making small talk to distract him from the pain that is his shattered body. It is the power to hold a grieving widower's hand and tell him the love of his life has breathed her last breath. It is the power to clean up vomit while talking to your partner about lunch plans. It is the power to function in a perpetual sleep-deprived state. It is the power to make a difference.

Call of Duty

There once was a time in my life when I thought that I would aspire in the field of construction and possibly the world of engineering. As is obvious from the fact that I have been a licensed paramedic for the last 6 years, my life took a huge turn. In spite of the fact that I was doing quite well working for a roofing contractor as a salesperson and fill-in foreman, something else burned within me. Every time I heard sirens, I could not deny the inner tingle that I felt. As was the case, living across the street from the volunteer fire department and ambulance service in the little town of Browns Valley, Minnesota, I heard sirens a lot. And the more I heard them, the more undeniable the tingle was.