notokinthehead











{December 26, 2012}   Avoiding Social Media

I’ve been avoiding the internet for about a week now. I wanted my Holiday time with my family, uninterrupted by tragic news and drama. I had a wonderful Christmas, as I hope you all did. My favorite part of Christmas morning this year was the look on my Mom & Dad’s faces when they opened the Kindle Fire I got them. It was priceless, their faces lit up like little kids and their eyes were filled with wonder.

Unfortunately as much as I tried to avoid the social media, the local news channels are just as bad. My heart goes out to the families and friends of the two volunteer firefighters who were senselessly murdered while doing their jobs in Webster, NY on Christmas Eve. It was an unbelievable act of evil. I realize that curiosity is human nature but it sickens me how much attention the media has given that terrible man who took their lives. The same goes for the massacre in Newtown, CT. It disgusts me. Let’s remember all of the victims and their families and try to forget the monsters who committed these awful acts.

My Deputy Chief put me back on duty this morning and just in time, too. We’re supposed to be getting one hell of a Nor’ Easter tonight and tomorrow. They’re saying 14″-20″ between tonight and tomorrow afternoon. Experience tells me that we will have people driving off the roads everywhere. It should be fun, cold and miserable. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m just happy to be back on duty!

 



{November 6, 2012}   When the Victim Wins

What a night! I got a page for a domestic violence, stage and wait for police to clear the scene, etc. We finally went on scene to find a young female (not sure of age, my partner tended to her) with an obviously broken nose covered in blood. While my partner tended to this patient I assisted the police with their suspect who had been attacked by a pit bull when he assaulted his girlfriend. The guy was a mess. The dog didn’t bite him but he ended up tearing him up with his claws pretty good. I did my assessment, asked if he’d like to go to the hospital and he refused transport (he was drunk as hell). So I cleaned him up per the police Chief’s request (“don’t want blood in my cruiser”) and sent him on his way to jail. The female victim also refused transport opting to drive herself instead and my partner and I gave the dog a biscuit. It’s a shame that she had to suffer a punch and a broken nose, but she’s lucky she has such a loyal and protecting dog. It could have been much worse for her, but it was definitely him who got the worst of it all. As far as I’m concerned, the victim won this time!

Once I cleared the station I returned home to find a suspicious vehicle sitting at the end of my driveway. There was a man in the driver’s seat, it was running but the lights were off. I gave him ten minutes to leave in case he was pulled over to text or something. When he didn’t leave and instead got out of the truck and just disappeared from sight, I grabbed my gun and the phone. I called the officer I had just been with at the last call and gave him the license plate number and description of the vehicle. The officer was here in less than thirty seconds. I’m not exaggerating. While we were talking about the subject the vehicle was registered to, the guy hopped into the truck and tore off in a hurry. The cop caught up to him and gave him the third degree but ultimately had to let him go because there was nothing to get him on. Fortunately for me, I now have a good reputation in this town and the police officer will be driving by several times throughout the night.

It’s been a very stressful day and the night wasn’t much better. Now I’m going to load up on some Aspirin, smother on some Voltaren Gel, lay on my heating pad and watch some Chelsea Lately.

Chelsea Handler & Chuy Bravo



{October 25, 2012}   Hate Gays?

I LOVE this picture! And look how happy and proud the man holding the sign is! Maybe some day I will be able to do this and be just as happy and proud. Of course, that would never happen where I live now, but there are nearby cities I could disappear to…

I’ve been having a ‘down’ day. I’ve just felt depressed and haven’t had interest in anything. I laid in bed from two this afternoon until nine-forty-five tonight. And I still feel tired. I know I’m probably beginning to sound obsessed, however I could really use some time with my EMS partner. He’s just awesome. He can make me smile when I want to throttle one of the other guys. He can make me laugh when I just want to cry. He’s an amazing guy all around.

Speaking of crying… I think there’s something wrong with me. Have you ever seen that movie, “The Holiday”, starring Cameron Diaz? If you have then you’ve laughed at how she tries and tries to cry but can’t. I could really use a good cry, but I don’t cry. I can count on one hand how many times I have cried.

Times I should have cried:

  • When the woman I loved moved out of state. I didn’t shed a single tear, though I felt lost. I didn’t talk about it, even to my therapist, because I just wanted to pretend that she never existed, that our paths had never crossed.
  • When my mother beat the shit out of me so badly that my right eye closed up for over a week. I didn’t cry. The pain wasn’t so bad, I have a rather high tolerance for pain, probably from years of experience. But the emotional pain, the fact that someone I love so much could purposely harm me… that should have made me cry. For days.
  • When my Grandfather passed away. My Grandparents played a huge role in my up bringing. But when my Grampa passed away on Christmas Day in 2006 I didn’t cry. I was the shoulder for everyone else to cry on. I was the rock. Even at his funeral I was the strong one while everyone else broke down. And my heart was shattered.

So why don’t I cry? Should it bother me that I’m not a blubbering fool? I just want to feel more human. I don’t want to be like those girls who break down over the smallest obstacle in their lives. However, I do feel like now would be a good time to have a small meltdown. I wonder if they give lessons on how to cry? Maybe there’s a book out there on it, How To Cry For Dummies, 101.

I guess crying isn’t that important. I wouldn’t mind experiencing that feeling of relief so many people claim to have after a good cry, though. Maybe it will happen in time if I can learn how to sort out my feelings. Stop turning hurt into anger. Hey, maybe that’s a good place to start!

Tonight’s song is She Talks To Angels by The Black Crowes:

 

 



{October 22, 2012}   Explosive Aches

I got up this morning and ended up going right back to bed my back and entire body ached so. It didn’t last long though, I ended up with both of the kids, and they were both miserable. The girl was just down-right miserable and argued about everything, and the boy was just blatantly disrespectful and mean. I ended up losing my temper and throwing the cigarette rolling machine across the kitchen (the kids were not in the room) and leaving them with my mother while I went and hid in my room. I was seething right up until my pager went off for an eighty-five year old male with a terminal illness (cancer) and difficulty breathing. When my pager goes off, I go away, I leave myself and become someone else entirely. After the call I was able to hang out with my partner at the station for a little bit. My partner is a pretty amazing guy. Something about him is so calming and reassuring. He ‘grounds’ me, brings me back around and puts a lid on my boiling rage. He’s like another brother or Dad to me. Only the blood-family dynamic isn’t there, which is probably why it works so well.

I wish I could find a way to tame my anger, keep my temper in control. I see my therapist tomorrow so maybe I can try to work on that a little. I also see my Osteopathic Doctor tomorrow, hopefully she can help me out with this pain. It’s exhausting.



{October 1, 2012}   Psych!… Emergencies

It’s incredibly sad and amazing how many psych calls we get in my town. Being on the rescue squad I have to go. I’d really rather not, especially when the patient is wielding a machete. These calls bother me especially and the only reason I can think of is something in each of my psych patients reminds me of me: thirteen year old boy, overdosed on anti-depressants and flipped out in anger. Fifty-nine year old man, lonely, tired of being disabled, overdosed on Oxycodone and pulled a machete when the cops showed up (that was this morning’s call). Forty-two year old female, “just tired”, overdosed on alcohol and Citalopram and turned the gas on in her residence so she could “take a nap and feel better”. Every one of these patients were reaching out for help, wanting someone to care, someone to be there for them. I’ve been there and I still revisit those old feelings from time to time. I understand them, and that scares me, for I know many people don’t and I have heard my own partners call them “crazy” at the end of the shift. They’re not crazy. They’re hurting, they feel defeated and they’re doing the only thing they can in their desperation to say “I need help”.

I console myself by knowing that I was the first one there when they needed the help, I held their hands and I listened to them. Just by being there and giving them my undivided attention I’ve showed them that they are not alone, that people do care about what happens to them. I’ve demonstrated to them that when they need someone, someone will be there for them. I wish I could get to them before they do something drastic and life-threatening, but that’s unrealistic in my profession. I just have to take comfort in knowing that I was there, I am here, and I will go running out the door every time they call, racing to their side to aide them, both physically and emotionally.



{September 19, 2012}   *~Sorry, Maybe~*

Talking to me
is like rolling
the dice. What
will you get?
Will I be
angry or nice?
I couldn’t tell
you, just know
it has nothing
to do with
you. It’s all
about me, me,
me. I’m out
of control, on
a rampage at
times, crying at
others. I will
yearn for your
hug, then turn
around and slap
you. It’s not
me, it’s the
demons that reside
within my crazy
mind. I’m so
sorry if I
hurt you, I
don’t want to.
My words are
sweet at best,
sting like a
white-ass hornet
when I lose
it. I can
promise you this:
This hurts me
more than any
attack I could
break out on
you.

Maybe it’s a
little too late
to ask for
your patience, your
forgiveness. Maybe you
could never understand,
try as you
might. Maybe I
was meant to
push people away
from me. Maybe
my apologies are
worn out, spoken
too many times
with no change
to prove my
repentance. Maybe I
can be a
better person? Though
I won’t ask
you to hold
your breath for
me. I want
To be “average”.
I want to
keep my promises,
be sincere with
my “sorries”. I
don’t want to
be crazy anymore…



{September 19, 2012}   Temper? CHECK.

Wow.

I’ve been out of my medicine since Thursday and I just got into a fight with my mother.

I may have completely destroyed the kitchen.

I might feel bad later because the six year old was there and it scared her.

Right now I don’t care.

I’m writing this because I’m trying to refrain from causing more damage.

My temper is completely out of hand and I need my meds bad.

The pain I am constantly in isn’t helping matters, either.

I’m pretty well fed up with just about everything.

I need to find ground.



{September 19, 2012}   To-Do List One Mile Long

Oh the stresses!

I saw a doctor again this morning and she told me my Scoliosis is getting worse and that it’s causing my upper body to fall out of “balance”. Thank you twisted, bent and curved spine for all of this pain! I will go see her again in two weeks for another adjustment to my back… or entire body, really.

I received a notice in the mail about my court date: November 15th. I immediately called my attorney in a panic to find out if I HAVE to attend the hearing. Unfortunately I do. Of course I am now in a permanent state of panic and anxiety.

I had to call my psychotherapist to see if she would be a “good advocate” for my court hearing. She didn’t answer so I’m anxiously waiting for her to call back. Another reason I want to talk to her: I responded to a call the other night that is bothering me very much. We had to have a police escort to the scene: a twenty-one year old female was violently physically and sexually assaulted and the perp was still on the loose, on foot, in the area. What disturbed me so much about it, and I know well that I am not here to judge my patients, is being the only female responder I was the one to provide care to this patient. As I spoke with her and took care of her she kept smiling an evil smile and laughing. I know this girl, I went to school with her, and there’s nothing mentally wrong with her. She was beaten up, but being a survivor of sexual assault myself, I am having a difficult time dealing with her reaction. This call has been weighing heavily on my mind…

I also had to call a psychologist’s office to request a copy of a psychological evaluation that I had done several months ago. Surprise- no answer! So I’m still waiting to get a call back on that.

AND in less than an hour I have to go get the kids from daycare.

What I really wanted to do today: NOTHING. I wanted to lay in bed or lounge around and try to relax some. But that thought went to hell at 8:30am when my pager went off for an MVA involving a utility pole. Don’t worry, the drunk took off on foot, he wasn’t hurt.



{April 9, 2012}   *~Hate & Love~*

You hurt me
over and over
I’ll take your
pain with a
smile on my
face. I’ll kiss
your lips as
I imagine slapping
you in the
face, and  I’ll
sleep by your
side and dream
about the day
you die. I’ll
tell you I
love you and
that will be
the truth, but
the truth is
I can’t stand
you. I want
you with me,
I want you
gone. I want
you to be
happy, I want
you to be
miserable. I want
you to be
carefree, I want
you to feel
my pain. I
want you to
know what it’s
like to be
completely in love
with you. I
hate you, I
love you, I
hate myself for
needing you. You
hurt me over
and over, I’ll
take your pain
with a smile
on my face.



I finally got the text message I’ve been waiting for all day: my friend is out of surgery & they think it was a success. She’s doing okay. It’s funny how stress and anxiety can make you so tired! So that’s a relief.

My day seems to keep getting longer and more exhausting by the minute. My mother called around two o’clock this afternoon- she was having difficulty with email and her homeowners insurance. I had to go down there and spend a little over two hours talking to a million different people about her policy. I finally got that straightened out. I got home around five forty-five and not ten minutes later my brother called me to meet him at his shop. So I went running up there where we chatted for a little while and he put an inspection sticker on my truck. Now I’m home and I feel like I haven’t stopped in two weeks and the pain in my body keeps increasing.



et cetera