It's been a while since I've updated my blog, but tonight I feel like it's time to put some thoughts down. As most of you know, my eventual goal is to write a book about my journey in emergency services. That said, I need to put some thoughts down tonight.
For the first several years of my EMS career, I put on a very tough exterior and tried to be that "rock" that held everyone else together. I remember back in the 90's I had one month where I had 6 or 7 pediatric patients who died, all for different reasons. I remember that I got a card from some friends in my EMS family that encouraged me to stay strong and keep my chin up. At the time, I thought, "Well I'm ok, but this sure is sweet." Now, almost 20 years later, I find myself haunted by so many of the bad calls of years past. There has been much discussion about PTSD and EMS in recent years. Anyone who stays in this job for any significant length of time (over 10 years) is certain to have faced many events that would just incapacitate an ordinary citizen if they saw it. I have always accepted this as a part of the job and have always remained tough. I have had many lifeless children thrown in my arms through the years, and I have rushed them to the truck doing mouth to mouth without ever thinking twice about it. After the calls were over, I accepted that we did everything we could and that as unfortunate as it was, they died.
That being said, I've started to notice some things over the last couple of years. I am becoming more tenderhearted for one. I cried about 2 patients in my first 17 or 18 years in EMS- just two! Now, in the last 3 or 4 years, I find myself thinking much more about my patients and their outcomes. I think about their families. I think about the expression on their faces. I think about what parts of life they will miss now that they've died (prom, drivers license, graduation, college, boyfriends/girlfriends, etc.) None of this has affected how I do my job or anything like that, but I have noticed the trend of being a little more caring than I've ever been. Now, here's the kicker and the part that is strange to me. I feel like in recent months I'm being somewhat haunted by those from the past. No, not as in the ghostly form, but in the form of curiosity. For example, I'll drive up a road and pass an intersection where I went to a fatal wreck 10 years ago. Suddenly, I start thinking about it and it bothers me that I can't remember the details. I remember it was fatal, I remember the time of day, the season of the year and what firefighters were there along with who my partner was. What I can't remember is the patient. That's a blur. I don't remember their faces for the most part. I don't remember what they were wearing, etc. It's like somewhere in my mind I have blocked the "worst" details about what happened. So then I go on a quest. I google it, I search the News and Observer, WRAL, WTVD, etc. and I try to learn everything I can about the incident. I try to remember those details. Then, with the help of the media, some of those images come back. It's almost like I needed that closure. I needed to know those details for some crazy reason.
I've sat here tonight, racking my brain about two particular calls. One was a fatal wreck out on Cleveland Road in the early 2000's. It had to be around 2003, 2004ish. It was late at night and 2 friends of mine who were in fire/rescue and me were coming back from the RockOla in Garner when the call went out. Immediately, the telecommunicator (Danny Morgan) had me call him on the phone. He said, "A fireman came up on it, said everybody is dead and he got scared and left and went to the fire station." I immediately turned on my lights and we rushed to the scene. I arrived just behind Cleveland firefighter Charles Kneeshaw and Chief Matthews. We found a Jeep Cherokee in the middle of the road with front-end damage and we found a passenger car in a field that was destroyed. One side of the car was pushed to the other. We had only 1 flashlight (no apparatus had arrived yet) so we started counting victims. The people in the jeep (2 adult men) were walking around and said they were fine. We look in the car and there are bodies on top of bodies and I counted 3 people. Charles then said, "No Jason, look there are 4 heads, it's 4 people." He was exactly right, 4 people. I remember it looked as if someone flipped a light switch. One of them still had their lighter in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Just that quick, literally in the blink of an eye, those four people were killed. They were all upper teens, maybe early 20's at the most. I remember how we got them out. I remember Joan Vause was on one of the ambulances. I think Mick Stewart may have been on another. I remember those details. What I don't remember are the faces. I think it was 2 girls and 2 boys. I don't remember what they were wearing. I don't remember their faces. They have somehow been blocked. I think deep down inside me I want to know who they were, I want to know about their families. I want to know who was left behind and do I know these people. Do I work alongside some of them and not even know it. For the sake of being "tough" I guess I just blocked all of those things out back then and never bothered to even want to know. Now, more than ever, I do want to know. I want to know all about them. I want to know what happened to the guys that hit them. I want to know what date it was, what year it was. I carried these four lifeless teenagers to the morgue but I can't tell you what they looked like or what they were wearing or what their injuries were. Something blocked that out.
I had another incident in the late 90's where a little boy was playing in a sand pile. It was a new development and construction workers had piled up a load of sandy dirt in the yard. A little boy climbed up on that mound of sand and it caved in on him. A family member, as best I can remember, found him buried and pulled him out. When we arrived, I remember vividly one of my heroes, Becky Denning was on the ground doing CPR on this lifeless child. She was spitting out sand after giving ventilations. Becky was yelling at us to bring the suction as soon as we got there. I remember suctioning out sand, lots of sand. Then, just as all the others, it's a blur. I don't remember whether I drove or rode in the back. I was an EMT-I then. I don't remember the child's name. I don't remember the year or the date. Those details again haunt me. I want to know all about it now. I want to know who the parents were and if they're still around. I want to know if they felt like we did everything we could or if they were mad at us. I want to know were there other brothers or sisters or was this their only child. I have so many questions.
Why weren't these details important to me then? Did I not care? Am I that different a person now or have I just matured over the years and refocused on the important things in life. I have many, many more scenarios very similar to the above. They generally involve fatalities. If you see me in the library going through newspapers or see me pause at an intersection and just look around, I'm trying to go back to unblock some of the details. Maybe it's good that I blocked them. That may be why I'm still working in EMS.
To the younger people in this line of work - don't be afraid to care. Don't be afraid to follow-up. I used to didn't follow-up on any of my patients, because deep down, I didn't want to know. My job was done, move forward. That's not the case anymore. I think it's a crying shame that it has taken me over 20 years in this line of work to mature and develop a heart. I'm glad I finally did and I think it makes me a better paramedic than I have ever been.
Monday, October 7, 2013
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