Just a Side Note...

Humor is used frequently when we are faced with sadness. There is a lot in my line of work...of both actually. Good with the bad. Paramedics, EMT's, RN's, Police...we are frequently judged as insensitive. Skilled and unique- we handle things differently. The amount of death and remorse we are exposed to much surpasses the everyday "9-5"er. We- are this way to survive.

We all have our stories. None more worthy or expecting of sympathy and attention than the next. We work. We continue on to be someones "Rock"; their "Calm in the chaos". We are expected to smile, but not to be stoic when someone else's life just got turned upside down. More often than not, when a piece of your world has been shaken, and you are crushed: feeling lost- we are as well...only on the inside so we can continue to work up your loved one to give you more time; Or work quickly to save your house; your legacy.

We carry all of your losses with us, as well as our own, for the rest of our lives...just like you. The difference- there is no time for mourning for us. The calls never cease. So if you hear us speak of "the game" or crack a joke, don't judge us as heartless. For when our trained hands fail to bring someone back, know it is with a heavy heart and we share in your sadness- though differently, as we pack up our gear and move on to our next.

It was the beginning of shift- 4 1/2 years ago. I was teching. We got a call down in the "valley". We are the first to respond. It came directly to us- Fire was advised. We get on-scene. No access to the building- no answer and door is locked. We don't even know what apartment number...the caller hung up. Call to the Land Up Above- The Voice in the Sky gets Po-leece en route. After we lock the rig back up, someone comes walking out of the building and comes towards us- It's the husband. There is a huge language barrier. We follow him up. You can never be prepared for when the door opens.

His wife- in her mid 20's, is laying on the living room floor...surrounded by and in a pool of her own blood. She is grimacing, with tears streaming down her face. She is silent. Our eyes meet. She can't be older than me by more than a few months. Po-leece have yet to arrive, *even though now we don't need them to get in*. They have 2 children. A 3rd on the way- that apparently attempted to join the world last night around 20:00. It's 06:45. My first delivery in the field- Full term. Still born. No pulse. Stiff. No amount of us breathing for him helped. Nothing like the compressions & CPR on an infant in your training class, so you know.

He's so small. His face looked so scared. I stop myself from letting my thoughts wonder further. I just lost mine. No one even knows. Auto-pilot is where I end up. Taking care of Mom and pushing down my own loss- I need to keep it together.

Fire arrives- Medic's evaluate. They send mom and the deceased infant with us for eval at the ER. I find myself holding back the urge to vomit when the child is given to us in a Bio bag. It is an awkward and somber transport. This WOULD have to be a call with a language barrier. But there are no words to make this go away. I spend the drive holding her hand. She weeps. I know all to well how she feels. Dad prays. My partner is silent up front. No music like usual.

We get to the ER. We take her upstairs. Straight to Labor & delivery. We get mom into a room and help dad get comfortable. Staff has already pulled her records. Apparently, Mom has to narrow of a birth canal and due to this- has only had C-sections. Never a vaginal delivery. Thus, has never experienced labor pains or contractions. So, when she started experiencing them last night AND her water broke- she refused her husband calling 9-1-1 or taking her in. Sad. She had no idea her having done so would result in interfering with their 1st son being born...alive.

The staff has to evaluate the little guy. Unsettling to have to bring him out again. They say, given the circumstances, he appears to have been a healthy baby boy. So depressing. We wrap him in a blanket so they can take him to be seen by his parents before he is taken away. He is still. Peaceful. If you didn't know, you may think he was just sleeping.

Rest peacefully little one.

We clear. "Stage for a new one"... our shift goes on.