Do I start with being beaten as a kid by a military/police/firefighter dad, or the stay at home schizophrenic, manic depressive, bipolar mother. I’m writing, deleting, and re-writing this from the top, middle, and bottom of my crown royal bottle. Or do I start with one of the first calls I ever made, was an 8 yr old girl that was ejected from a minivan that rolled, and landed on top of her because her mother didn’t feel the need to buckle her daughter. I hurt constantly.
Emotionally and physically. I hate myself, but love what I do in EMS and fire. My back requires surgery, but I know after surgery, my career is over, and I don’t know anything else. I have run more pedi codes than anyone in my company. A couple even made national headlines. A mother lost three kids in an apartment fire, Nathaniel lived for almost a day after the fire that took his brother and sister, at least his family got to say goodbye on their forced terms. The other I don’t know his name, I was on my first ever clinical rotation for EMT-B at a local hospital, and he came in. He choked on a toy. It sparked a recall from a major child’s toy company.
Fires, car accidents, drownings, SIDS, dad fell asleep and smothered, and just simple medical problems. Don’t forget my commendations for treatment of psych patients. Dealing and explaining, while walking a fine line of not patronizing. I started having anxiety attacks recently, I divulged that to my supervisor, secretly asking for help. He’s tried, I truly look up to him. I know how to control them, but it’s getting worse. Little things set me off. Crowds, driving, nothing at all.
The only thing that doesn’t trigger, is calls. Cool as a cucumber, which is a gift and a curse. Even at the worst, I’m at my calm and collected best. I wish I was calm and collected with the rest of my life. Spastic and crazy just like my crown fueled typing. It’s taken me 3 hours to write all this, and I’m all over the place. I’ve lost it yet again, this is my passive aggressive shout/cry. I cringe and pray someone I know sees and recognizes my rambling.
I hate my life, but I love what I stand for, and I could never leave my son. I’m a shitty father, but I try my hardest with what I know and think of how to be a dad. I’ll never leave my sons side, that I can guarantee in my drunken stupor. I wish I had the balls to leave my name.
– Lost medic, 14 years in EMS.