WHY AM I
TELLING YOU THIS?
As the saying goes: "Don't talk the talk unless you can walk the walk!"*
How can we raise awareness and reduce the stigma, if we can not share our own journey.
How else will you know that you are not alone?
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What's my story?
20 years of paramedicine and my bucket is starting to overflow. My family see it, my workmates see it, but I don’t.
Each call out starts to take my breath away, my breathing increases and I hope my partner doesn’t notice because I am lead clinician.
Jobs are becoming more personalised. I can’t seem to compartmentalise them anymore.
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My colleagues reactions and responses sit with me and make me question my decisions.
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There’s only two work MATES that I trust myself to work with and they know something is up, otherwise I use my sick leave to avoid work.
A nasty job lands like a rock in my bucket, and I start to hate going to work.
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I realise there is something wrong when I plan my ‘escape’ from work in the middle of a night shift.
Telling only those that need to know, I manage to sneak home and find solace in my bed, without my family even knowing I’m home.
The final day comes when I obviously make the wrong decision. No adverse reaction to my decision other than I can not go back, and I don’t....20 years on the road ....over.
I am extremely fortunate to have an amazing support network around me.
From my husband who understands me better than I do, a GP that puts patients first and a family psychologist who works her amazing magic without you realising it.
The importance of this network is amplified by the fact that I don’t remember much of the beginning. I remember crying a lot, I remember not wanting to admit that I had been diagnosed with PTSD.
and I remember my boys (then 3 and 5) asking me why I didn't smile anymore.
Even with all this, I continue to think I am invincible, that I can do anything, that it will pass.
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I am extremely lucky to have had supportive managers, who see my vulnerabilities and make sure that I get myself onto a path of healing.
Even though I had a diagnosis, I still didn't fully understand what was going on.
On one particular day...
I saw the ambulance come with lights flashing. I watched them intently as they drove past us and up towards the location where a motorbike rider had tried to hug a tree. I wanted to go and help, but my feet were stuck to the ground like concrete.
That night, as I lay in bed, I treated the patient for 8 hours. I never once laid eyes on him, or had any definite idea of his injuries, but for 8 hours, he received the best possible care I could think of.
While it is normal to be concerned for the wellbeing of your colleagues, it is not normal to become emotionally invested from the sound of a siren to the patient they were tasked too.
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