My dream job.
Well, I’m pretty much borderline medical anyway you look at it. Truthfully I’ve wanted to end my medical career in hospice the day I became an EMT. The first time I saw what and who hospice was, I was sold! I was on the hospice floor in a local hospital transferring a patient to their home when I fell in love. They were surrounded by loving family members whom were clearly not ready to say good-bye to their beloved yet, looking at you like you were part of their ending.
We transferred the patient by ambulance with great care and tact, brought them into their home and settled them in the room where they would be spending the rest of their life. Seems like a long time right? Well, not for these souls. For some it was weeks maybe even months. But for others it was a few days and even just hours at times. Hospice workers were there helping to get their patient as comfortable as they could with soft voices, gentle smiles and the most tender of touches.
I was in awe.
I want to be there, in their chair reading, talking, even to just sit quietly next to this precious person that they are to be with until their end. Some workers are called in at night for support, some in the wee hours of the morning; but always kind, considerate while dripping with compassion.
I want to be that. I want to be someones comfort.
For all the years I worked a “thankless job” in EMS, each year I loved it more. I didn’t need a thank you, I needed to be the one they needed most, usually when they weren’t aware I was even there. That is why it mean so much to me. Most of them unconscious from vehicle accidents, some so distraught they couldn’t put words together to explain the situation they were in. Others beaten and in fear looking at me for some sort of security now that their assailant was in the back of a police car. And others, well there were a lot of others we could do nothing for. Their time was simply that, over. My partner and I would return to the station quiet, not a word to each other the whole way back. Replaying our entire scenario. Could we have done something different? We followed protocol for that call like clockwork. Was something missing? A bit of information that may have made a difference? What? Why? If they had only looked twice before pulling out to see that truck in their blind spot. If they would have reached out for help instead of thinking they had no way out but to take their young life. If they’d have just buckled up!
Sooner or later you grasp the fact that it is not your fault, sometimes, most times you are not in control and when the big guy upstairs says it’s their time, you can’t stop him. It’s His time not ours, He has blue prints of our lives, He has written our story You did what you could while you were there and now it was up to the hospitals or sadly the medical examiner to keep watch over them now.
I had a bad call once, well a lot more than once; but my first fatal is for ever burned into my head, heart and soul.
If you chose…. My un-wanted un-forgetable memory…
I’ve had fun calls, happy calls, strange calls and even unbelievably ridiculous calls. But it’s funny how those aren’t the ones you remember first. You remember the calls of hurt, fear, sadness, and broke hearts. It’s usually the family or friends surrounding your patient that gets to you. Sometimes you don’t have time to figure it out or time to wrap your head around it, because your already giving your partner directions to the next emergency. And you start to pray, that it’s not as bad as the last.