Signs

I ran or hiked the Tramway Trail six or seven times, and every time I got lost. Sometimes a lot lost, sometimes a little lost. Until one day, I saw the signs. Signs of direction to stay on the trail. Some were subtle like a small spray painted dot on a rock, and some were more obvious, like the wooden sign on a six foot pole with an arrow pointing one direction, with the words “TRAMWAY TRAIL“. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Every time I was on this trail, I saw the signs, and didn’t take note, but today, I really SAW THE SIGNS. I no longer ignored them taking the direction I thought I should take. It directly correlated to what was going on in my life, more specifically, my relationship. There were so many signs that I ignored. “JEALOUSY” this way. “LIES” that way. “INSECURITY” this way. “EMOTIONAL AND MENTAL ABUSE” follow the arrow. This list of signs goes on and on. And I wondered, why do some of us ignore those signs, not giving up, while others have zero problem cutting ties and high tailing it out?

Pondering all of this, I think back to what my parents taught me, particularly my Dad. Seems that everything he said resonated “have faith, don’t give up”. And with that, he meant on others, your dreams and especially yourself. That is why, when I tell the story of getting into the fire service, particularly with the department I work with now, I say that it took me 14 years to finally get hired with a department I wanted to work for. Fourteen years? Really? Yes, really. I had a job with the government firefighting for 11 of those years, but still tested in other departments. I had a folder two inches thick of paperwork from all the places I tested. And just when I thought I was going to settle for staying in a department that sucked the life out of me, I tried one last time. See, my ex-husband left us, again, our son being 3 months old at the time, and oh, I don’t know, that sorta lit a fire under me. Maybe because I didn’t need approval from him to do something; maybe because I needed that challenge to be the person I use to be before I met him; maybe because the doors were about to open. And they did. I took the written test, passed. Door open. I trained for the agility, passed. Door open. Prepared for the oral board, passed. Door open. Medical evaluation? You got a pulse, your in. Passed. Door open. Why was it so hard to get hired before, and now, on my last try, all the doors opened?

I’ll tell you why. Because it is trying to get through certain doors and avoiding certain signs that make us who we are. I always say that as a firefighter, you can take all the classes and have all the certifications in the world, but that doesn’t make you a good firefighter. Experience makes you a good firefighter. And in life, it is all those doors we tried to force, or signs we ignored, that brings on the experience and makes us who we are. Failure makes us who we are. And sometimes, ignoring the signs and taking your own path is what needs to be done. I did not take, not being hired by all those departments as a sign. I took it as a challenge. And all the signs in my relationship were not signs at the time, it was me not giving up on someone I loved.

Either way I learned, I grew, I evolved. Learning that some things are worth not giving up on.

That being said, I will say, that when all the doors do open, and the signs are pointed in the direction you are traveling, the path you are taking is that much more solid, confirmed,… gratifying. And that, is what makes the frustration of it all worth it. So keep trying to walk through those doors, and don’t forget to “try before you pry”.

LISTEN

When I decided to start a blog, I thought I would be writing about the adversities in my life. I didn’t realize it was the pain of others, people I don’t really know, that would lead to my first entry. But it has.

We were having a busy day at work, going from one call to the next, and it seemed every other unit around us was just as busy. So, trying to help out, my officer took a call that would have gone to another truck, since we were clearing our call and around the corner from the one being dispatched. It was for a “down and out”. A “down and out” in our city is someone that is intoxicated to the point of not being able to take care of themselves, in a public place, and often intoxicated to the point of being unable to arouse. Many times, because of where we live, these people are often Native American Indians. There were already two police officers with this man, I’ll call him Steve, as we arrived. As we walked up to Steve, a native American, sitting on the steps outside a church, with a puddle of vomit in front of him, I was thinking, “OK, nothing new, our usual down and out”. Then one of the officers said, “This is Steve. He’s a vet of the war in Afghanistan, with PTSD, and he’s having a hard day.” As I turned to take a better look at him, I noticed he had a left arm amputation just below the shoulder. OK. Screeching halt. As soon as I heard that, my mind raced back to a blog written by a fellow crossfitter, AJ, also a marine, dealing with PTSD. http://www.crossfitalbuquerque.com/news/what-has-crossfit-done-for-me/   As I started to take Steve’s vital signs and we assessed him, we learned that his choice of intoxication that day was vanilla extract. He had already downed 16 oz and had another 8 oz bottle in waiting to continue to self medicate. As I started to talk to Steve, I learned that he received his injury driving in a caravan. He had his arm on the edge of his window when a RPG hit it directly, tearing through his arm, and the door, only to find his buddy that was sitting in the passenger seat. That RPG took his buddy out the other side of the vehicle and pushed Steve into the passenger seat. Steve survived, his friend didn’t. He also told me that he joined the marines intending to make it his career, he made master sergeant in four years, and he got out in 2006 due to his injury. Since 2006, he has been to the Veterans Hospital 8 to 9 times to get a prosthetic for his arm, and has been put on a list to receive help for PTSD, and still has not received help, or the prostethic. I’d like to think this wasn’t a line of bullshit. The look in his eyes was that of hopelessness and being lost, a look validating his words.

According to an article written by NBCnews.com, 1 in 8 of our solders coming home experience PTSD, and over 1500 of our solders are coming home as amputees - Huffington Post. It is no wonder Steve can’t get help. It seems that our VA system was broke before, I can only imagine the strain it is feeling now. I seriously wanted to put Steve in our truck and take him to the VA, and well, raise hell. But, how do we help? How do we as emergency responders help the hundreds coming back to our area when we come across this? Especially when we offer to take him to the VA and his response is “They haven’t listened to me yet, why would I want to go back there.”

Meanwhile, some young kid rides by on a bike and yelled out "Fucking drunk Indian!". I understand that kids frustration, I deal with it every day at work, but at that moment I just wanted to pull him off his bike and give him a verbal lashing. Ok, I really wanted the bottom of my boot to find his head. This "fucking drunk Indian" was different. This guy fought for your freedom, white college boy. This guy gave up his freedom, signing his life to the military, so you can ride around shouting derogatory statements at "down and outs".  This guy was willing to make a career out of defending your rights. Yup, boot to the head.

I wanted to take Steve to our crossfit gym, and show him all the possibilities, even for amputees. How it has changed lives of vets with PTSD, such as AJ. I wanted to find any and all support groups for PTSD and make sure he had access to them. I wanted to make sure he had all the opportunities to live, to live a life of quality. But, all I could do for Steve was talk him into giving me his last bottle of vanilla, and try to reassure him that the people transporting him to the hospital, would try and get him someone to talk to.

I'm hoping being able to listen to him that day, helped in someway.