At the Crossroads

Where we are.

For my blog today, I am sharing a Facebook post written by a former Casa Grande High School student named Susan Carr Collins. (CGHS is where I taught.) When Susan was in high school she was an honors student, a spirit leader, and an all-around “good kid”. As an adult, she became a firefighter/medic, and now is a nurse, a mom, a wife, a thinker, and a fabulous, young woman. I asked her permission to share her words on my blog. Thankfully she said, “Yes.”

So many of my friends have been snared by myriad emotions after this election cycle and have been struggling to untangle them. Susan obviously has too, and I am pleased to see that writing helped her sort out her concerns. I believe she is correct to ask, “How will this all end?” I’m sure it’s a question many of us share. No matter what one’s political persuasion, this is worth a read.

**LONG POST - Fair Warning***

A hundred thousand years ago (or maybe it was in the early 90's) I was driving a long stretch of country road between Sonoma and Petaluma, likely enjoying "Two Princes" for the 100th time on the radio, screaming the "bada ba dip" part like a maniac. I saw several people pulled over onto the shoulder surrounding a downed motorcyclist. Being a medic, I stopped as well and walked over to investigate. He was gray, struggling with his respirations, but had asked someone to call his parents at the same time they went to call 9-1-1. I quickly did a primary and secondary assessment and realizing I had absolutely ZERO equipment with me, felt a huge sense of dread. I knew we were in trouble.

Here we were, in the country, with 9-1-1 being called from a nearby farm. I had a bystander hold c-spine, while I held this man's hand with a finger on his rapid, thready radial pulse knowing that he at least had a systolic blood pressure of somewhere greater than 70-80. I layed my head on his chest and attempted to assess his heart and lungs, anticipating an emergent needle decompression upon the medics arrival but I couldn't hear anything, the ambient road noise was so loud. He was so frightened. He was so scared. I told him help was coming right away, I told him his parents had been called, I told him we were with him, while he was still conscious. I rubbed his forehead, I talked softly to him, reassuring him, comforted him. I did what I thought a parent might want a stranger to do for their son.

The outcome was sad, as you might have guessed. He arrested as the medics were loading him up. I stood there as his parents pulled up on scene and I just cried and cried at the futility. The irrational anger that I didn't have a full jump kit in my car, or another medic, or a helicopter, or magic, or Santa. The sadness that these parents couldn't have heard their son's voice one more time. The despair, the dread, the deep wish that I could have done more. No matter what I had done, the outcome was just terrible. And it took me years to be just ok with the actions I took. Years and years and plenty of therapy between sleepless nights.

I'm telling you this because I feel this way again. I feel like I'm watching a slow-motion accident and I have no jump kit. I cannot lay this country supine, maintaining spine precautions. I cannot quickly assess A-B-Cs, look for obvious signs of bleeding and pop two large bore IVs in bilateral arms. I cannot warm us up with blankets. We don't get to stat CT scan us for clues about what might kill us.

I recognize we are all processing the state of the union differently. I had a wonderful conversation with my very logical, level-headed sister. She is dealing with it by focusing on her family, "tending her own garden," and raising her kids to be wonderful citizens of the world. Other friends of mine are tending "gardens" around the world; spreading hope and light to the less fortunate among us, fixing cleft palates, setting up medical infrastructure in Africa and Haiti, researching ways to improve health care, teaching kids in inner cities, and carrying on like the Brits of WWII asked each other to do.

            But it's so insane, we all want the truth but the truth is hiding in plain sight at the moment. I feel like I'm in Westworld with no clue about who is a "host" and who is a "guest" - and I don't want to shoot anyone to find out. Are Aleppo reports real? Is Russia truly a cyber mastermind that has irreparably damaged our democracy? How will this end? Will it end badly? Will we be ok? When will we know?

I think I just needed to "vent my spleen" (thanks Rebekah) and look at my feelings in written form. I remember them well...the PTSD we suffer as firefighters can really flare back up in these highly anxious times. I challenge myself to take a huge breath and think before I speak. I have to re-read and edit what I post. I think it's important now, more than ever, to find the good in each other. Believe that comforting a stranger can be the absolute best we can do in the moment and then be just fine with that.

Thanks, friends. Love and peace to each of you.

This might as well be Susan!