Images

There is a story I have been wanting to tell since I started this blog.  I've not had the courage, or desire to tell it before now.  I offer this in honor of all first responders who have to live with the images they have seen.

I was a paramedic, with only one child at the time.  We were called to be the back up unit on a house fire.  This is not unusual, and usually it is just a precaution.  I had taken a class in Critical Incident Stress and already learned a great deal about PTSD.  Yet, this was the first time I responded to a scene like this as a mother.
The paramedic who had trained me was possibly one of the best, calmest medics I've ever run calls with.  He was the first unit on the scene of a house fire.  He called for backup right away, and we were that unit.  On the way to the call, he started calling out "signal 9".  This is the signal for a death. We picked up our speed a bit and heard another "signal 9".  This hit me in the pit of my stomach, I looked at the paramedic driving, another "signal 9".  All of these class I had been through started running through my head.  This was going to be one of those 'critical incidents' we had talked about.  He called another "signal 9" as we pulled up to the scene.  He and his partner then took off with the one survivor of a house fire that killed 4 children.  There were 4 little covered bodies laying on the grass in front of a house.  This is not the image that has stuck with me all these years.  What I see in my mind is a firefighter.  He is sitting on the roof of a house completely silent, numb.  He didn't know what else to do.
We ended up at the hospital later that evening and one of the seasoned attending doctors came up to me.  He had genuine concern on his face.  "How are you doing?"  I answered the way most first responders would respond "I'm fine, thanks for asking."  You don't show weakness.  He ended up sitting down and chatted a bit.  I think I ended up opening up about it, because he was so genuine, and he had treated the one child that survived.  I was deeply touched by his care and concern.  It was good for me at that time.  I had my experience validated in a hospital hall in the wee hours of the morning by a man I barely knew.
Recently, I learned that a Police Officer pictured with President Bush after 9/11 committed suicide.  I also remember that the man who rescued the little girl from a well did the same.  I understand completely how this happens.  When first responders are placed on a pedestal following an incident, they can easily loose a part of themselves.  When the president gets up to call you a hero, for simply doing your job, it can really mess with your head.  It can really cause problems if you are feeling something very different on the inside. Most people leave the scene with just one wish:  we wish that we could have done more.
I carry around a lot of different stuff from my years in emergency medicine.  I've also watched co-workers become alcoholics, marriages end and careers ruined.  My first year as a paramedic, I helped bury a co-worker who killed himself while in his uniform.  People really just don't understand the price first responders pay.  In some ways, I hope they never do.