notokinthehead











{March 25, 2014}   Stalked

As a Firefighter/EMT, when we have bad days they very quickly turn into bad weeks. A bad day for us all too often means that we lost a patient or lost one of our own. This week I worked a scene of a young woman who completed suicide. There was nothing we could do for her, she was gone long before anyone called 911. Even though there was so very obviously nothing anyone could do to save this young woman’s life it tends to follow you, stalk you. Some things that you encounter in this profession never leave you.

For the last three days I’ve been haunted by the completed suicides that I’ve worked in my two short years as a firefighter/EMT. None of which were viable. The elderly male who put a gun in his mouth and sprayed his entire bathroom with blood and brain matter. The 19 year old girl who hung herself with the cord of a curling iron from an eye-hook in a bathroom ceiling. The 32 year old mother who we found face down in her own vomit, she overdosed on Oxycodone with her teenage children in the house. And then Saturday, the young woman who sat in her car garage with her car running.

The things I’ve seen make it hard to sleep at night. Natural death is hard to deal with, but when someone actively takes their own life it’s devastating for all involved. It kind of makes you angry, you studied your ass off to learn how to save people when they’re circling the drain, you’ve held the hand of the dying and tried to do your best to comfort them when all they want is more time on this Earth. Then you go and cut down the body of someone who decided that their life isn’t worth living. It definitely makes you question your faith in God, or whatever higher power that you believe in, that they allow the people who want to live, to die, while the ones who have no desire to live anymore can choose to take their own lives.

I’m not putting down people who are depressed, suicidal or mentally ill. I understand some of the emotional distress and chemical imbalances that play a role in depression. I’m just simply asking why things play out the way they do. I understand that I’ll never have an answer to that question.

Conclusion: death is difficult. My job has me knee deep in corpses, when I’d much rather do lift assists all day every day. You can comfort the families who’ve lost a loved one all day, but you can never breathe life back into a person when their time has come.

EMS: the profession of being stalked by death.



{August 23, 2013}   We Are All One

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I’ve been absent in the blogging world for about a week now. I’ve kind of taken a nose dive into depression. It’s been coming for a while but it seems it’s finally caught up with me. As usual it’s a smorgasbord of things that all came together and piled up until I can’t smile through the pain and misery any longer. For example: the back and shoulder pain has reached a point where it’s unbearable. My doctor gave me Vicodyn but informed me on Monday that she will not give me anymore (she’s only given me one script for 15). My nephew, who moved into my home six weeks ago, has several developmental disabilities that we were not prepared for and I just do not have the patience for him. Paperwork and reports are steadily piling up on my desk at the Fire Station and I don’t have the concentration to get it all done. I’m frustrated and angry with myself. I’m depressed. I spent the entire day in bed today and I’ve been taking the Vicodyn every 3-4 hours and I’m pretty sure that I’m going to be a full-on narcotic addict within the next week.
To top it all off I accidentally slammed my finger in an engine’s compartment door tonight, slicing it deeply and bruising the shit out of it, causing it to swell to the point where my knuckle is nonexistent. It sure seems like nothing goes right when you’re already depressed.

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{July 25, 2013}   Goodbye Life Preserver

Quick replay of the last two weeks: my seventeen year old nephew moved in and my whole world shook. I gave up half of my floor so the kid would have a place to sleep. He was basically kidnapped from us when he was three and I was seven years old. His father (no relation to me) did hard time for raping a three year old girl (not nearly enough time, if you ask me). Suddenly the State places him in my home two weeks ago. We really don’t know anything about this kid except he watches Spongebob 16 hours a day and sleeps the rest.

Fast-forward to the present: I’m sitting in my car at a Dunkin’ Donuts a few towns over from my house. Why? Because my niece is in my bed. My parents don’t trust my nephew with my seven year old niece because of what his father did and so they won’t put her in a room that isn’t locked up like Fort Knox.

I’m sitting here at Dunkin’ Donuts sipping my coffee and thinking about it all. I’m usually not a selfish person. However, I feel like the line has been crossed. My one safe, quiet place has been taken away. I should probably mention that my niece does not have to stay at my house, but my Mother likes to have her sleep over a few nights a week. So why isn’t she in my Mother’s bed???

Some nights when I’m undressing for bed I feel like I should check my clothes for dirty shoe prints because it sure feels like I’m being trampled on an awful lot.



{June 14, 2013}   I Will Wait for You

What do you
do when your
dreams go up
in smoke? Where
do you go
when you can’t
go home? Who
do you turn
to when everyone
is gone? Where
do you end
up when there’s
nowhere you belong?

Time marches on
and every step
makes you more
tired, you get
a coffee to
go and you’re
wired. You listen
to the radio,
hoping to hear
a song to
make you feel
inspired.

The sun starts
to set on
all your faded
lies, in the
mirror the truths
still hide in
your eyes. Bent
but not broken,
ashamed of words
left unspoken.

In the morning
you will wake
to face another
brutal day. Try
to keep your
head up, try
and be brave.
You’ll make it
through, you always
do, and at
the end of
this dark tunnel
I will be
waiting for you.



{March 3, 2012}   *~Walking Defeat~*

“I love walking in the rain because no one can tell I’m crying.”

I walk along
the crowded
streets.
In the rain
no one can
see
the dirt on
my face, tears
falling upon my
cheeks.
Once a strong,
happy
girl, now I find
myself feeling
weak.
Sorrow clouds my
vision as I give into
defeat.
My senses hindered,
I no longer believe
in all that I
once thought I
was meant to
be.
I gaze into a
crystal ball and
what do I
see?
My future is
blurry,
shards of broken
glass reveal all
of my shattered
dreams.
I walk along
the crowded
streets,
head down low
so no one will
see
the dirt on
my face, tears
falling upon my
cheeks.



et cetera