In 19 years of working EMS, I’ve worked with hundreds of people….some were horrible and down right dangerous to the patient, most are good at what they do but may or may not have my back in a situation turned bad, and a very select few are in the category of “favorite partner”.

Hannah is in this category of favorites. When I first started at this department, she didn’t assume I was quiet, like most everyone else, but got to know me. She knows some of the darkness I’ve been through and has been there for me when my sister was in the hospital.

She’s taught me to laugh at myself. Most people act as if they think I’m stoopid when something I do doesn’t go like it’s supposed to or I turn the wrong direction or the words come out weird. I don’t care what most people think about me, and as it turns out, I’m pretty hilarious. At least, I keep myself (and Hannah, at times) entertained.

Hannah has also helped me learn to stand up for myself by being that example and not allowing anybody to talk shit to her. You do teach people how to treat you. And they will take as much as one allows.

On a different subject, I really can’t stand people who are disrespectful, lazy, or who are liars. We all have moments, but step up and apologize. Treat others like you want to be treated. Talk to others like you want to be talked to. When you treat/talk to others poorly, it’s only a reflection of your own true character.


Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day is right around the corner. It’s a day to celebrate and show appreciation for your mom. But what about those who don’t have a good or even decent relationship with their mom? Or those whose mother has died? Or maybe those women who’s deepest desire is to be a mom, but for one reason or another it hasn’t happened for them? Or the women who have had a miscarriage or have lost a baby during pregnancy one way or another?

Me personally? I fit into a few of these categories. I don’t have a relationship with my mom because of choices she’s made and her behavior. But I have other women in my life who I call “Mom”. They’ve been there for me through life’s ups and downs when my own mother hasn’t been.

I’ve had pregnancy losses, but most people don’t know that. Being a mother is something that I dream of more than anything else. I dream of having a house full of loud, giggling, screaming kids and being exhausted at the end of the day, but that would mean my heart would be full. I dream of hearing a baby cry for his mommy and getting the awesome responsibility and privilege of getting to be that mommy. But this dream hasn’t happened, so I spoil other people’s children.

Mother’s Day for me is a glaring reminder of what I wish was a reality, but isn’t.

A House Fire

One day up in heaven,
An angel carried an armful
Of broken pieces to God.

“Whats this?” God asked the angel.
“A paramedic’s broken heart”
The angel replied.

I found it this morning
She was walking home and
Threw these at me. She looked upset.
But I didn’t get to ask what happened.

God looked knowingly at the angel.
She had a hard call last night
And two children came home
Early this morning.

“Why do you do that to her?” asked the angel.
She’s been through this before,
Why not give her a break?

“Because My will is perfect,” said God.
Yes it is, agreed the angel.
Then why not make a paramedic
Without emotions, one who’s heart won’t break?

Because then some of My children
Would go through life never
Knowing love or that someone,
Even a paramedic cares for them.

“She wasn’t alone on that call”
God told the angel.
I was there beside her
Throughout the night.

I was there as she worked
Quickly on the young girl
Who had been burned
In the house fire.

I was there holding her hand
As the news came that
There was no hope for the
Two children still in the burning house.

I was there as she held the grandmother,
Who had just learned the awful news,
About her two grandsons;
I held her up and gave her strength.

Remember, I made her for a purpose
And for that purpose I will see her through.
She is stronger than she may look
Because it is My hands that hold her together.

If These Boots Could Talk….

If these boots could talk….

I would tell you many stories, some happy, others heartbreaking. I would tell you of the dirt and the filth I’ve had to drudge through to get my paramedic to where she needed to be. I’ve been in some disgusting environments that would make regular boots run the other direction. I’ve heard my paramedic comfort a child after being in a car accident. I’ve heard her calm a rape victim. I’ve heard her wait for the cry of a newborn baby after it’s delivered. I’ve also heard my paramedic deliver bad news to a family hoping and praying their loved one would start breathing again. I’ve been there when my paramedic allowed herself to cry, usually on the way home from work, after a hard call or maybe a call that brought up other memories.

I’ve kept her feet protected at house fires and car accidents. I’ve held her steady walking through snow, mud, and rain. Whenever I’ve gotten filthy, my paramedic will give me a good scrub and polish so I can look my best.

If I could talk, I would tell you that I work hard to protect my paramedic and make sure she goes home safely at the end of every shift. I look a little rough, but I wear my scuffs with pride, knowing that I’ve done my job well.

I May Crumble

Have you ever been pissed off angry! That’s how I feel, unless I push it back into it’s hole and ignore it. I feel like if I face it head on, I will crumble. I’ve been through lots of trauma and bad, unfair experiences before. But this beats all of them. This is bigger than the rest. I’m angry about the whole situation with my Twinny. Yes, I’m angry that she was shot. But even more than that, I’m angry that the scum of a human being that chose to do it is dead. Instead of being a man and facing the consequences of his actions, he was a pansy and chicken shit and killed himself. Somebody might say “he had this or that wrong with him”. Bullshit! PTSD doesn’t make anybody plan a murder/suicide months ahead of time. He knew exactly what he was doing!

I’m angry at his family because he told two family members the day of that he was going to kill himself. But they didn’t do anything. Maybe he’s said that before, I don’t know. But if a friend or family member came to me and said the same thing, I wouldn’t just blow it off. I hold his family responsible, not for his actions, but because they did nothing. It seems like this would be easier if the scum bag was alive and had consequences to face. There would possibly be answers to questions that instead, will never be answered.

I’m angry because for the rest of Twinny’s life (more than likely), she will have complications from this. She has lost everything that life was and used to be: her career, some friends, her independence, being able to drive, etc. She’s handled it all amazingly, but still. It isn’t fair! It would be easier if there was an ending to all her difficulties that she faces and will face because of this. But for now, there isn’t.

I’m angry at her doctors because nobody wants to dig deeper and find out why some of her symptoms are persistent and seemingly getting worse. They just blame it on the TBI and say “it’s too soon to know”. Maybe there’s something she could do to keep things from getting worse. I don’t know. I really don’t have a clue. But it’s like they are all content and don’t want to fight for her, their patient.

I’m glad this POS is dead! I know he was somebody’s son/father/brother blah blah blah! I don’t care what he was because he attempted to murder my twin sister and for some unknown reason, wanted her dead. He is a piece of scum pansy ass in my book and always will be.

I don’t know how to deal with this anger other than alternate between writing and ignoring it. I feel like if I face it, I will crumble. Sorry, not sorry for the language. Don’t judge me. Just being totally honest.

That Dreaded Question

I’ve been asked that dreaded question “What’s the worse thing you’ve seen”? Why do people ask that awful question? They think they want to know the answer, but in all honestly, they don’t. Or at least they shouldn’t. Asking any first responder that question is like asking anybody to remember and think about the worst thing that’s ever happen to them, and then expect them to talk about it with you. You, more than likely, are a total stranger or an acquaintance at best.

Would you want to talk about “the thing” that gives you nightmares to somebody you don’t know, or don’t trust? I know I wouldn’t, and don’t. When somebody asks me that question, I tell them they really don’t want to know and either walk away or change the subject.

Think about it honestly for a moment. Anybody knows that first responders respond to anything and everything…the car wrecks with mangled bodies, the house fires with the smell of burned flesh, the medical calls where odors of urine, feces, blood are intense, the abuse to children, elderly and all those in between. Have you ever had to scrape up body parts off the road and put them into a body bag? Or hold a grandmother as she’s told her two grandsons died in the house fire? The stabbings and gunshot wounds. The drugs and alcohol. The cold, heartless, selfish acts of mankind. That’s what you are asking us to dredge up from the crevices of our brains when you flippantly ask “What is the worst thing you’ve seen”?

Please have a little compassion and use some common sense. Thank you.

My Partner

This may sound strange to the average working adult, but my coworkers are my family. Some of them I’d compare to those distant relatives you only have contact with at the annual family reunion. There’s a few who I just down right ignore because of their chosen behavior. But my shift may as well be my immediate family. On the hard days or when the county literally falls apart and there aren’t any trucks available but yet there’s calls waiting, we all pitch in and get the job done, one call at a time.

The one person that can truly make a shift amazing or absolutely dreadful is my partner. I’m not talking about your outlook or perspective or attitude here. When I work with my regular partner, I know that whatever shit storm comes our way, we will battle it together. I know she has my back, just as I have hers. We have laughed until we cried, and we’ve cried together. Sometimes we sit for long periods of time in the cab of our truck talking about life and the things that matter. We share the ups and downs, both on the job and at home.

But that isn’t the case for everyone I’ve worked with. I don’t trust just anybody. I might trust you to do your job, but that doesn’t mean I trust you personally. But then there’s a handful of people I’ve had the experience of “babysitting” that really shouldn’t be in this field, because they are downright dangerous. Sometimes, some of them need help and encouragement, just like I did when I first started. But there’s one in particular who believe they know it all. Nobody can teach or change that.

I’m thankful for all the partners I’ve had over the years because they’ve all taught me something, even if it’s how to not do my job. Some aren’t in this field anymore, but I still think about them and the craziness we dealt with together.

To all those I’ve called “partner”, whether it was just for a shift or years, thank you. Thank you for being patient with me and teaching me. Thank you for watching out for me and for having my back. Thank you for showing me that I don’t want to be the grumpy, bitchy, asshole you were to me. Thank you for showing me that truly stupid people are in every profession. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for listening to my corny jokes. Thank you for being you.