FIRST THE MIND, THEN THE BODY

2002

A friend rhetorically asked after my last post, “How does it start?” Holy Guacamole! THAT is what I spent 6 years thinking about. Last post I focused on the chemical beginning. I believe that everything happens in the mind before it happens in the body.  Spiritually put, everything happens in the spirit before it happens in the flesh.  The following is my opinion about myself; so technically, I can’t be wrong…misinformed or amiss, perhaps, but definitely not wrong. 

Addiction is not the problem. It is only a symptom of an underlying, unresolved issue or issues.  Addiction is the nausea that accompanies the flu.  It is the runny nose that accompanies the common cold.  It is the acute fever and vomiting of blood that accompanies The Plague.  It is an outward manifestation of an inner virus or bacteria.  Unfortunately, we fixate ourselves on the ugliness of the outward symptoms and are unable to see or focus on the real pathogen that lies deep within us.  This is especially true for the “functioning” addict. 

Motorcycle accident 1988

I don’t believe it is just the chemicals that whisper sweet nothings in your ear until you succumb, at least not the first time.  I spent over 9 months as an inpatient in the hospital after a severe motorcycle accident.  During that time I was given enough opiate pain medication to render an entire parade of elephants comatose.  When I left the hospital as a naïve 22 yr. old with relatively few “issues” in life, my body went through physical withdrawals, but my mind was free of psychological withdrawal. I was fixated on spiritual things and the blessings of life. I was preparing to leave for a two year mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  Later in life, at the age of 35, I had a few more life experiences and disappointments on my hard drive.  This time I rebooted vastly different.

My uncle spent 32 years as a full-time career Firefighter/Paramedic.  He retired (the first time) at the same rank where he began in the 1970’s. He was my “go-to” guy for all things medical, spiritual, and work-related.  I called him after I had performed CPR for the first time on a 76 yr. old man while going through EMT school.  I called him again during paramedic school after a losing the battle to save a 16yr. old girl who had been shot in the chest. The effect of the first incident caused me to wonder if I was cut out for this type of work. His response to me was comforting and unsettling at the same time.  He said, “Good. It should bug you. That means you’re normal. It’s when it doesn’t bug you that you know you are in trouble.” On one hand I was assured I was not overreacting. On the other hand, it made me realize that I would reach this crossroads many more times on my journey as a paramedic.  The opportunity to veer left or right was always just one more call away.

One young medic

He also gave me a greater understanding of my “baggage” in a simple metaphor.  He explained that every time we see something horrible, ugly, or stressful, we quickly stuff it in a mental duffle bag and put it out of sight in order to perform as a competent professional.  Sooner or later our duffle bags get full.  In this profession it is not popular or common to talk to people about things that “bug” us on the job. The macho majority says, “Just deal with it, Nancy!”  My uncle taught me that every now and then you have to talk to someone, perhaps a professional, and “empty your duffle bag.” It’s not to impress. It’s to express.  Anybody in law enforcement, EMS, or the military could unload a barrage of “Gore Stories” without having to think for more than 2 seconds.  If we shared it all to a mental health professional, every cop, firefighter, and veteran would be on mandatory lithium. But we aren’t “normal.”  We have “rescue” personalities.  We can’t see chaos and NOT try to mitigate it.  That’s why these men and women are so good at what they do. We deal with it; some even thrive on it, I dare say.  It doesn’t make us stronger than anybody else, just…different. We deal with our issues largely with dark humor.  We make light of tragedy.  Death, pain, and mutilation are topics open for sarcasm and levity (except when it involves children). It lessens the sting. I’m not sure if it heals or conceals.  Perhaps that depends on the individual.

As I searched for the “it” in HOW DOES IT START, I don’t think I stumbled on the missing link.  I think I just stumbled on one of several links that created the chain that bound me.  Here is an excerpt from my journal dated 2/23/07. I had been locked up for just over a year. (Remember, this is not a post or a paper. They were the thoughts of my mind and heart as they spilled out)

…I wrote her [my wife] a letter letting her know how hopeless at times I had felt. I had even contemplated “throwing in the big towel”, thinking perhaps my family would be better off without me and all their pain and disappointments I seem to bring. Rebuilding at this stage of my life sometimes seems futile. Not too long ago, I truly was a different man.  For someone who was in the business of “saving lives” for so long, it seems ironic to give up on myself and not even desire to save myself.  I did the math and it comes to between 15,000-20,000 emergency calls over my career.  In all of those calls I seem to have been “privileged” to partake of death and bloodshed much more than life and “rescue”. I have heard of medics who have delivered upwards of 300 babies in their careers.  Not once did I deliver a live baby into this world.  It seems I never got to escort life into this world, only out.  How many people were “blessed” to see my face as the last image before they left earth? I know I was (and still am) a damn fine medic, an excellent one.  Then why did I get so much death and tragedy disbursed to me over my career?  It certainly doesn’t seem fair, to say the least.  For being in the business of “saving lives”, the payoff seems too small and too far between.  I threw my emotions into my calls.  It was my biggest strength and, ultimately, my biggest reason for burnout (and self-medication). 

I remember one young medic bragging that he had experienced 4 cardiac saves over the period of a week.  I honestly don’t remember 4 in my entire career!  As I look back, I don’t remember many “feel good stories”, but I can unload an endless amount of “blood and guts”, gory death stories.  I knew I shouldn’t have gone back to the job after my first Rehab in Dec. ’03.  There was one stretch in 2000 when my partner (nicknamed the “Black Cloud”) and I went 3 months together and had someone die on us, or we found someone dead every shift. At least one, usually two dead guys per shift.  The other crew printed out a skull and crossbones on the computer and taped it over the city emblem on the doors of the ambulance when we started our shift.  What all this has to do with my current situation, I’m not sure.  Maybe I didn’t deal with it well, or properly.  Maybe after having such high hopes as a young medic and then after serving the community for 15 years, the least they could have done was live more often than die. Hell, I would have even taken a 100:1 loss ratio!

We all have baggage. We all have our own personal duffle bags filled with issues, incidents, and insecurities.  We zip them tight and hold them close to our body so there is no risk of anybody else discovering their contents.  Some days when we’re all alone, we open them up and examine these extremely personal artifacts and internalize them. Relive them. Remorse or regret them.  Some things in our duffle bag were placed inside because of our behavior, or lack thereof.  Some of the things we perceived about ourselves as children and were stuffed  in there long ago. Some things are in our duffle bags because we HAD to put them there in order to live to see the next day. We all have them in varying capacities and quantities. This is life. I am still learning how to handle my baggage. The question is: Do we deal with the things in our duffle bags in a HEALTHY or UNHEALTHY manner?  Do we spend too much time brooding over the contents. Do we proudly hoist them high on our shoulders for all to see? Do we pretend we don't even have a private bag of woes? We should examine each issue, incident, or insecurity that is impeding our happiness, address it, then place it where it belongs...For me, that is at my Savior's feet.  HE will take out our trash and place it in the dumpster of "Things learned."