I was there..

You crashed your car... I was there. You took your first breath... I was there. You took your life...I was there. You fell off a ladder and landed on your head...I was there. Your house caught fire in the middle of the night...I was there. You were anxious and just needed someone to understand and talk you through it..I was there. You were choking...I was there. You were having a heart attack...I was there. You took your last breath... I was there. Many times over many years...you didn't know who I was...but I was there.

I saw my first dead person when I was 11 or 12. I was at Hampton Beach with a friend and her family and I watched as people pulled a lifeless man out of the ocean and began to perform CPR. I don't know if the guy survived, but at the time I saw him..he was dead. This isn't one of those inspirational moments when I knew fate was leading me down a life path. I just remember standing there, watching as people tried to bring this guy back to life.

For almost 14 years I answered the call to try to make the worst day in a stranger's life a little bit better in whatever way I could...whether it be physically or emotionally or a little bit of both. Day or night it didn't matter, when that pager went off, I went out the door even if I wasn't on call that day. Missed meals, dealing with death on holidays, sudden changes in plans, more time spent with my EMS partner than my husband some days. I can understand why some marriages just don't make it.

There are awards on the wall by my front door I received over my years: Firefighter of the year, Chief's Choice, Directors choice award and 3 EMT of the year awards. This only highlights my persistence and reliability to assist on calls. I would by no means call myself a master of my profession. Many days I think I was more lucky than good. My peers seemed to enjoy having me as a partner and I worked hard to have a good working relationship and friendship with those who chose to spend their 12 hour shifts with me as there were many options to choose from.

I couldn't explain to my Chief and the EMS director why I was suddenly done with being a Paramedic Firefighter but I knew it was time to walk away. The joy from the job was gone, I felt alone, even though I had everyone else's back, I really didn't feel I could trust anyone to have mine or be there for me. Thankfully there was a blog post my best friend found which helped put some of th thoughts into the words I was unable to find.

https://dimcmath.wordpress.com/2015/02/10/unless-youve-been-there-you-wouldnt-understand-a-paramedics-farewell-to-the-job/

There are definitely moments I will never be able to forget no matter how hard I try. I drive by houses and the memories come flooding back, good and bad. I suppose it comes with the territory.

I think it's almost worse being a has-been than a wanna-be. A wanna-be may still have some potential of gonna-be. I know it's mostly in my head, but I have felt like I was "weak" and "inferior" for not being able to stick it out. I see my old partners out and about at the grocery store with their new partners who don't know me from Adam and when I introduce myself and say I used to be a paramedic & firefighter, the look I feel I get is "oh... but you're aren't one now.. guess you couldn't hack it then huh?!?"  I want to grab them by the collar and smack the look off their face. "You'll always be one of us" isn't quite the feeling I get when these encounters occur. Again, I know it's not them... it's me.

I was stupid to think I would walk out the fire station door on that last day and not have crap to work through. Even now almost 2 years later, I still have a few things of baggage I am sorting through. Walls of defenses that were put up for protection have taken a long time to tear through. I still have anger issues, triggers, anxiety and probably a touch of PTSD. I will never be the person I was before joining the fire department, my best hope is I can learn to understand the revised version of me and continue to seek comfort and happiness in the world around me.

A friend with PTSD told me one of the ways he works through stuff is to write about it. I told him I would probably never be that brave to expose the inner workings of my brain but after a year and a half, I think I have finally gotten brave enough to put some of it into words...so here it is.