About three years ago, I carefully stepped down this short hallway, not all too certain what to expect. The hallway opened into a small, practically empty room. A dusty mammoth of a photocopier sat in the corner beside stacks of office paper. A few framed photographs adorned the otherwise blank white walls. The new summer sunlight streamed through a small window near the ceiling. An open door in front of me led into an even smaller room, lined with cluttered desks. To my right was an open door with a sign saying “PERSONNEL ONLY”. I froze up, awkwardly standing in the middle of this room in a place I clearly didn’t belong. What was I doing here anyway? Just as I turned to look at the now very alluring front door behind me, a voice asked, “Can I help you?”
I snapped my head back from over my shoulder, suddenly very aware of how out of place I seemed. I swallowed. A man with salt & pepper hair stood in the doorway, a quizzical but friendly expression on his face? Was he always there? How did I miss him before? He must think I’m crazy for just wandering into this station.
“Uh…hi. My name is Probie To Practitioner. I’m here to uh…see if maybe I could…work on an ambulance?” It was more of a question than a request. The words felt strange coming out of my mouth, and even stranger to my ear. You? On an ambulance? You’re afraid of your own shadow. You’re afraid of talking to this man here. And you’re trying to do what??
He grinned broadly at me. “Ohh, you’re the one who called earlier! Come on in! Let’s show you around, see how you feel, and go from there. Alright?”
“Hey, wanna show her around a little? Show her the ambulance or something?” This gentleman asked a short paramedic, with tired circles under his eyes and a welcoming half-smile on his face. The paramedic agreed, stepping into the doorway, and making a motion for me to follow him. He walked through the door that said “PERSONNEL ONLY”.
This was where I hesitated. I stopped, mid-step, and mentally told myself “No, you’re not ‘personnel’.” I spent a moment internally arguing this point. I just felt odd, barging into the personal space of a place filled with prestige, courage, and tradition. It wasn’t something I was a part of. I realized how stupid I would look, awkwardly posed outside the door, and how much more stupid I would sound trying to explain my reasoning to the paramedic. Quickly, I hurried through the door, catching up with him.
I followed out into the bay, smelling of cool concrete, metal, and rubber. The rest of that afternoon would be spent with an awed smile on my face, feeling like I was half in a dream, going through an ambulance check with this paramedic.
It was a peculiar moment of knowing and not knowing.
At the time, I didn’t know that this station would become my second home. I didn’t realize I’d walk these carpets thin. I didn’t know how many roaring laughs and gravely whispered conversations would reverberate off these walls. I didn’t know I’d be spending countless hours here. I didn’t know that the cool smells of the bay would become so relaxing and cleansing to me.
I didn’t realize that the paramedic who showed me an ambulance for the first time would go on to be my mentor, and one of my dearest friends. I didn’t realize that these same people I had held in my mind as heroes, would one day be held in my heart as family. Some would move. Some would leave. Some would die. Some would come and stay, others would come and go. I didn’t know how much they would do for me.
I didn’t realize the lengths to which I’d go when I was here. I didn’t realize what this job would ask, demand, and take from me. I didn’t realize how much of myself I’d give to this field, this lifestyle. I didn’t know how EMS would bend me, push me, and teach me. I didn’t know how much it would make me grow. I didn’t know how many lives I would touch, or to what extent.
Despite all that I didn’t know, I somehow knew one thing: I belonged here. It may not have been a conscious thought; even if it was, I’m sure it would have been drowned out with all the other thoughts of self-doubt and disbelief. But I felt it. I felt it in my heart, and in every fiber of my being.
EMS Week 2013. We have one mission. We are one team.
And I am beyond honored to be a part of yours.