25 Days of Blogging: Day 2

I am feeling extremely frustrated today. I work at a job that is pretty insignificant, if you can image a really life Office Space that would be where I work. I had a co-worker accuse my of steeling Tylenol of another co-workers desk because apparently they didn’t hear me ask via im to have some. I must have missed the memo when they got promoted to cubical police.

I come home irritated burnt out, and wishing I worked with more intelligent people only to realize that the house is a mess, my firefighter is exhausted and we still have to run some errands. The whole time we are out mu husband is asking me if I’m upset, annoyed, irritated…of course I say no. I really don’t want to be. IN fact I am trying my best NOT to be. The questions just seem to grind at me.

Yet, the whole time I am trying to breath and trying to remember the blog post I read today by a fellow Fire EMS BLogger. They wrote a post today called Stains. It is a nitty gritty real life look at the emotions that I am sure my own husband goes through and never shares.

Here are just a few lines from the post….

“…at 6:45 in the morning, I can’t muster a smile. And you’d know why sometimes, even when I can, the smile always looks tired, and never quite reaches my eyes….”

“When it’s eleven patients and one medic, and the second-in unit is still five minutes away, you have to decide who can most benefit from your care. Reds are immediate, yellows are delayed, greens have minor injuries and a few of those will even sign refusals. Some of the sickest reds will be blacks by the time you get back to them. And the blacks… well, the blacks are just inanimate meat between you and your viable patients.”

“when we pulled her shattered body from the car, her head lolled back on her broken neck, wiping her blood-smeared hair down the front of my shirt.”

“And so I just stood there mutely as she sobbed into my chest, her fingers digging into my arms, tears soaking through the fabric of my shirt, searing my soul like drops of acid. And there was not one Goddamned thing I could do to make it easier for her.”

I was in tears by the end of the read. I wasn’t crying because I felt sad for the author, he was doing his job. I wasn’t crying because of the tragic situation because bad shit happens. I was crying because I realized my own selfishness in it all. His story was about not smiling at an ER nurse, but what does that mean about all the firefighter wives out there that have no clue what kind of shift their spouse has had to go through and then comes home and you treat him poorly.

It made me think I about all the times I have been annoyed about him being tired, crabby, quiet, withdrawn, aggravated, and so on.

Thus, thank you A Day in the Life of an Ambulance Driver for reminding me of my role in this relationship. Of reminding me what my husband goes through and how well he has adjusted to that job, that lifestyle.

If you are a firefighter’s wife and girlfriend and you have no clue what your spouse goes through in a given 24hr shift then you need to read that post and think about how you can be more selfless, because they real are giving everything they got for the job.

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Shari Simpson

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