One Year Anniversary

This month is one year since admitting that my mental health had taken a hard, deep nosedive south. The sexual assault that had occurred became the icing on the cake. Prior to this, life had gotten hard both at work and personally. I felt alone, worn out, and in a dark place.

I had dark thoughts but I wasn’t about to tell anyone! I was talking to a therapist, but in my experience, most therapists didn’t know how to talk to someone thinking about suicide. Nor did they want the responsibility upon them. Instead of taking care of their own client, they’d call the police or force them to the psychiatric ward. There wasn’t any way I was about to be honest with my therapist and tell her where my head was at exactly.

I had been talking to this therapist for several months but I still didn’t trust her. She had told me many times that if I was ever to tell her I was having suicidal thoughts, she wouldn’t call the police, or force me to the ER and psych ward. I didn’t believe her, but I had come to the point that I had to do something. Either I had to tell my therapist where my head was at, or I had to follow through with my thoughts. I didn’t really want to die, I just wanted the pain to stop.

This particular appointment in the middle of February, I finally told my therapist exactly what was going on in my head. I told her I had stopped taking my meds but that I was still having them filled at the pharmacy in order to stockpile them, you know, just in case I needed them. I didn’t have a specific plan, but I was heading down a very dark path.

My therapist talked to me like a human being. She never called the police. I never saw the hospital or the psych ward. But she did tell me she wanted me to go to Shatterproof, a program in Florida specifically for military/veterans and first responders. That terrified me! But through lots of talking and convincing, that’s where I went a couple of weeks later. Usually, I wouldn’t have been allowed to take a couple of weeks, but I had a couple of BIG projects I couldn’t leave unfinished. I also kept in regular contact with my therapist.

I was at Shatterproof for 40 days. Sure, I could focus on the issues and negative experiences I had with the staff, especially before getting to the actual Shatterproof program. But I won’t, because those problems were confronted and I learned to stand up for myself. Overall, the program and people there changed my life.

One of the biggest things that happened for me was Ketamine. We carry Ketamine on the ambulance at work for pain and behavioral. I had never heard of Ketamine being used for depression or PTSD. But here I was. The downside of Ketamine is the cost. They wanted $500 a treatment and encouraged you to do 6 treatments while there. Now, I didn’t have $3,000 in my possession. I told my therapist at home this, but she encouraged me to ask a few friends for help. I detest asking people for money or help! But I did it anyway. Within a short time of sending out a text message to max of 12 people, one friend in particular responded and said that through a group he works with, the entire $3,000 would be taken care of! Whoa!!! I was absolutely floored! This is the shit that happens for everyone else and never for me, yet here I was. I will be forever thankful to this friend and his group because for me, Ketamine has been life changing.

The other best thing about being at Shatterproof was my roommate. We’d have our nightly debriefings about the day’s events, and the bullshit some people had thrown out into the group sessions, instead of actually being honest. There was plenty of drama, but you’ll have that in a group of 50+ people. We stayed away from it. My roommate loved the days I had a Ketamine treatment and refused to allow me to cook anything on the stove! I guess she was convinced I would burn down the state of Florida! 🤣

Shatterproof has a zoom meeting every Friday night. It’s a time to check in and to seek/give encouragement as needed. We also have a chat with peeps who attend the zoom meeting in order to continue the support during the week, and not just on Friday evening. These peeps have become my people. I check in on them, and them on me. They will also call me out on bullshit or if I’m not being completely honest.

I became known as Pickles (surprise, surprise) and made pickle related food each weekend for the cookout on Sunday afternoon. I even made pickle ice cream, and 2 other flavors, which were a hit. I will be forever thankful for most of the staff at Shatterproof, those that truly love their work, because it shows.

The last year has been hard but full of growth. It has also been the best year of my life when considering the things that truly matter, such as having support and friends to lean on. It has also been lonely because not everyone who had been in my life was ready for that growth. They get left behind because they no longer know me. And that’s ok.

I tell my story to tell you that while it’s cliche, it’s still true that it’s ok to not be ok. It actually shows courage to ask for help and is in no way weakness. And for anyone who is struggling, please talk to someone you trust. If you don’t have anyone, leave a comment with contact information so that I can help you find resources, especially if you are a veteran/military or first responder. There is help out there. You aren’t beyond help. You ARE worth fighting for.

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.

I Cried Today

I cried when I got home from work. Nobody died. It was an incredibly busy shift, but this one call stood out from among the rest. Yes, 98% of the call itself was totally drama. But it was the underlying reason for all the drama that tugged at my heart strings.

This girl clung to me, for whatever reason. I was frustrated but didn’t let it show. Others did let their frustration show, and maybe that was why. I don’t know. We walked out to the ambulance together to get away from everyone to talk. That ambulance door shut and she opened up. My heart broke for her.

I told her that even though it didn’t happen today, what happened way back then wasn’t her fault. I made sure she heard what I had said because sometimes it is difficult to hear the actual truth in the midst of all the chaos in one’s brain. I also told her she wasn’t alone in what she was dealing with because I had been there too. It can be hell dealing with what happened and learning to handle the memories. But it is possible. There is hope.

I asked what she wanted to study in college to which she said she wanted to be a pediatrician. One day, you will get through this and be able to help a boy or a girl through the same thing. I gave her a hug and held her as she cried.

After the call was over, I learned “the rest of the story”. It frustrated me, but you know something, this girl is dealing with her trauma in the best way she knows how. It isn’t right, nor healthy. But I hope she takes the help that was offered to her. Then the drama will become her driving force in how she in turn helps others. But no one, boy or girl, man or woman, should have to live with the memories she has.

Where I’m supposed to be.

Years ago, when I came home from college and told my mother that I wanted to be an EMT and wasn’t planning to go back to college after the winter break, I was met with WWIII on my hands. My parents told me things like “EMS was a man’s world” and “you have to have a college degree to have a good job”. This was really the first time I had gone against them in my 20+ years of life. They had wanted me to be a school teacher, but I hated all the speech classes and having to be in front of everybody. Through the years, I’ve been told things like “you’re too quiet for EMS” and “you’re too dumb”. Seems like most of my life, I’ve been too much or not enough for one group or another of people. But I’ve worked hard to get to where I’m at, and at times, it has been an uphill struggle through a lot of junk.

I grew up going to church but walked away from it when I left home in my 20’s. If God was the god I grew up with, I didn’t want anything to do with him. Since then, I’ve meandered into a church here or there, most of which tell me things to the extent of “you need to find a different career so you can be in church every Sunday”. I walk away from that because that’s nails on a chalkboard (I’m old, ok) to me. (Sounds like another blog topic.)

Every so often, something happens that lets me know I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. Many times, it’s a call I respond to at work. Sometimes it is something else. But this weekend, such a call occurred. To me, I was just doing my job. But to my partner and to that family, apparently it was more than “just doing my job”. Yeah, anybody else could have responded to and handled that call. But maybe a different crew wouldn’t have been as patient or calm like that family needed in that moment. I honestly believe that there’s a specific reason why I respond to the calls that I do. Sometimes I know that reason, most of the time I don’t. But like I’ve said in a previous blog, a paramedic wears many hats. Most of my job as a paramedic isn’t about giving medications or putting a breathing tube down somebody’s throat. Most of my job is simply being a decent, caring, respectful human being that simply cares about others.

I’ve been through a lot of ugliness in my personal life…some because of the choices of others, some of my own doing. But through it all, I know that all the shit I’ve been through and have had to deal with in my own life has made me a much better paramedic. I’ve had two choices: become hateful and bitter or let it make me a better medic. I choose the latter.

I’m not writing this to toot my own horn, but to encourage you, as well as myself, to keep moving forward. Wherever you are at in this moment, it may seem like a hopeless, never ending battle. But if you know for sure that you are doing the right thing for you, keep pressing forward. People will always be negative and attempt to discourage you, and hold you back. In the end, you will get to your goal, if you don’t quit.

Do I trust you?

There’s been two first responder suicides this week in Rowan County, NC. It’s sad, yet frustrating to be honest. So many unanswered questions that will remain unanswered for the families and friends of these firefighters. There is help available if one looks hard enough. But that’s a problem too. Good, quality help often takes a lot of time digging through all the bullshit to find. But finding the right help could be so simple. Everybody says “reach out if you need to” or “It’s ok to not be ok”, which are very true. But reaching out isn’t that easy and simple. Too many people want to be the helper for all the wrong reasons and have inappropriate motives.

If I can’t talk to you about the little, everyday stuff, then there is no way under the sun I am going to tell you that I’m in a dark place and need help or that I’m thinking about suicide and may have a plan. If you talk about me behind my back at work, if you have your nose so far up your management’s asshole that you can’t tell the difference between day and night, or if you are disrespectful towards a patient after dropping them off, I’m not going to talk to you.

But if I see you go the extra mile with a patient, or maybe take an extra minute with a family who just lost a loved one, or other little things that show you care more about others than yourself, I may reach out to you. If I hear you correct a coworker who is talking about a patient in a disrespectful manner, that tells me you may fight for someone who can’t fight for themselves.

See, it’s the little things that build trust so that big things can happen. If you can’t be trusted in the little things, no one will trust you enough to keep the dark secrets safe and hold them with respect. Want to really help someone who is struggling with thoughts of suicide? Be a real friend. That is a lost art in today’s world with most people only thinking of themselves. Build trust with the little things. Help friends out with the little things when they need it. And then when the shit hits the fan, they will be more likely to reach out to you for help…..hopefully.

It’s too late to help these two firefighters. But what about your coworker who’s struggling? What about you? As long as you are breathing, there is hope. Please talk to someone you trust. Talking can be a huge help.

Being a Paramedic is more than just medicine.

Many people wonder what a typical day is like in the life of a paramedic. Without using patient information and violating HIPAA, I will attempt to give you a glimpse of just that. Much of this job isn’t about giving medications, starting an IV, or putting a breathing tube down someone’s throat. That’s the stuff they teach you in class. But a paramedic wears so many more hats. We are counselors, cooks, babysitters, a friend, or a shoulder to cry on. We are ministers, a listening ear, a swift kick in the pants, and your cheerleader. Some days are slow, some are slammed busy. Some days we don’t get to eat until almost time to go home from our shift. But every day is totally different than any before.

My day yesterday started before I was able to clock in at 0600 with a cardiac arrest. We got a pulse back, and transported to the hospital. Usually, this is good. But sometimes, and you may not agree, it would be better to just let the person go than to put their body through the trauma of a cardiac arrest. This person won’t have any quality of life because of previous history, and even more so, because of being in cardiac arrest. But, I do my best even when things don’t seem fair.

We ran 8 calls yesterday before we were actually able to sit down and finally catch up on reports. Each call we are dispatched to requires a report, some more detailed than others. The more we do, the more we have to include in our report. It was after 3pm. We had responded to a couple of chest pains, a back pain, a medical alarm, a fall, and I don’t remember what else honestly. Some days it all runs together. I didn’t finish my breakfast until we had gotten back at 3 pm. Some days you don’t get a chance to pee, unless you go at the hospital after giving a report to the nurse.

It was one of those days that was incredibly frustrating. But I love my job most days most of the time. Some days I hate people because we are an incredibly selfish species. All someone can think about is themselves instead of being thankful they have to wait in the waiting room at the Emergency room since waiting at the hospital means you aren’t dying or have a life threatening injury. Too many use the ER as their family physician instead of only coming to the ER for a TRUE life threatening emergency.

My back hurt after yesterday’s shift. It wasn’t any particular thing, it was more of a tired ache. After 18 years in this job, I guess it is allowed to ache now and then.

There’s a lot of ugliness to this job since the human race is a generally selfish and hateful species. The innocent are hurt or killed because of a thoughtless act. Drugs control a life and become the highest priority instead of the children in that family. Life can seem overwhelmingly dark with no way out except for putting that gun to his head, but his pain doesn’t stop. It is only passed on to his wife of 47 years and family when he is gone.

But there are many moments that make all the ugliness worthwhile , like delivering a baby, which I’ve been able to do 3 times. That is my all time favorite call! It is the moments of being able to connect with a patient on a deeper level, even if only for a moment, and let them know they aren’t alone because you have also been where they are currently at.

A woman was on the stretcher in my ambulance one day with a irregular and fast heart rate. This was a totally new experience for her and she was terrified, to the point it was hindering me from being able to give her medicine to fix her heartrate. I held her hands in mine, looked into her eyes and told her that thousands of people walk around every day with this irregular heartbeat and that she would be ok. I gave her a hug and she calmed down. Her heartbeat also converted back to a normal heartrate on it’s own. By the time she had arrived at the emergency room, she was feeling so much better and her other symptoms had begun to subside. I hadn’t done anything for her that I had learned in paramedic school, but I had taken the time to hear her fears and be a decent, caring, human being. That’s what this job is about. That is what so many of the young’uns in this field are missing.

There have been times through the years where I’ve gone to visit a patient at the hospital later on to check on them. I’ve taken stuffed animals to the kids or even written a note to a mother who lost her baby to SIDS. I go with my gut, because my gut doesn’t lie. Look out for your friends and family, even the strangers around you. Be caring and thoughtful. Let the people you love know that you love them, because you never know when today will be your last, or their last.