Origin Story: “Johnny” Returns

“I didn’t become an EMT to get a front-row seat to other people’s tragedies. I did it because I knew the world was bleeding and so was I, and somewhere inside I knew the only way to stop my own bleeding was to learn how to stop someone else’s.”—Daniel José Older.

Image Source: Matt C (Unsplash)

Johnny Triumphantly Returns

Upon returning to my home state, I obtained a job with a private ambulance service, where I honed my skills as a basic EMT. In March of 1993, I applied for and was accepted into the Silver Cross Hospital Paramedic school. I was ecstatic and thought, "How f**king cool," I was going to become Johnny Gage after all. It was also during this time that I met my future wife, and love of my life- Judy.                  

After 9 intensive months of classroom instruction, hands-on training, hospital clinicals, and a field internship, I graduated at the top of my class. Not only that, but I also became a paramedic just like my childhood idol, Johnny Gage. However, I learned fast that being a real-life paramedic was very different from the TV version - especially, when the adrenaline kicked in as the alarm sounded for the calls to service when someone dialed 911. It wasn't because they ordered a pizza- no, no, no... they were having a bad day.

Shortly after graduation, I accepted a position with another private ambulance company that was specifically contracted as the 911 ambulance for the city to which it was assigned. It was baptism by fire as I responded to some very intense, often violent calls. On the surface, these exposures did not seem to affect me, as I was making a difference in saving lives and providing comfort to the sick and injured.

During this same period, I began testing for municipal fire departments in the hope of becoming a full-time professional firefighter. In September of 1994, the call came, an offer was extended, and I accepted a position as a firefighter/paramedic with the Village of Alsip. My dream had finally been realized.

My rookie season in Alsip began with me being sent to a local fire academy for three months, during which I learned the department's equipment, rules, policies, and procedures. In December of 1994, I graduated from the academy and was assigned to a permanent shift.

While in the academy, I proposed to Judy (a third-grade teacher by this time), and life was awesome as we settled into our respective careers. We married in October of 1996 and are still together after all these years.                                                                                    

However, this firefighter marriage would have to endure many trials and tribulations over much of my career. When one takes an oath as a public servant, you also shoulder the weight of this oath. You know you are going to have many gruesome images imprinted on the library of your brain, and some will unnerve you. What they didn't tell me in the academy was the degree to which these images would affect my psyche. It is to this degree that I began to walk a tormented green mile.

Image Source: Mathurin NAPOLY / matnapo (Unsplash)

The Traumas

In the interest of not triggering readers of this narrative, I will spare specific details of the traumas I witnessed that profoundly affected my psyche. If you wish to learn more, please click on this link for "PTSD: A Healing Story," where I discuss the following in depth (the link will open to another page and note this is a TRIGGER WARNING if you choose to watch the video. Otherwise, I summarize my top three calls below).

As I have moved into the latter part of my career, I have connected with some awesome individuals who are walking the same journey as myself. One such person told me that every first responder will have the top three calls that they will always remember long after they leave their respective service. My top three all occurred within the first 3 ½ years that I worked for Alsip and are:

• March 1995: Responded to the 4-year-old girl who was in cardiac arrest. She was diagnosed the night before with croup and given medications and steam inhalation as treatment. When we transferred care at the hospital, she had an organized rhythm and heartbeat. Sadly, she passed away 13 hours later that evening.

•May 1997: We responded to the tollway for an auto accident with a car on fire. An adult male driver and two children ages 5 and 7 were dead upon our arrival to the scene. Our department had to wait several hours at this incident while the medical examiner decided which agency would transport the bodies to the morgue. After this incident, I had a gentleman from a critical incident stress debriefing team come to my home to help me sort through this tragedy. That conversation made me feel a little less helpless.

• February 1998: On a cold, dark evening, our crew responded to the exploding truck, which was now on fire. After sorting through the chaos, we discovered that a colleague who had worked on our shift for the last 3 ½ years had died by suicide. It felt to me that very night that he took a part of my soul with him.

At the time of these incidents and the countless more to follow, the prevailing school of thought in the fire service was "suck it up and move on." It was easy to buy into this, because every third morning brought a new day where we would have to do it all over again.

A couple of hours after our friend's death, the department conducted a stress debriefing with the assistance of personnel from Christ Hospital's Critical Incident Stress Debriefing team. Three days later (the day of his wake), we were back on shift and responded to the following calls throughout the day: A DOA, a cardiac arrest, and another suicide- all before attending said wake. My head was swirling at that point. As it would be - he was waked, buried, and life went on.

A friend of mine (who also responded to our friend's suicide), and I were attending fire officer training classes during this period. We were given a 45-minute opportunity to share this story with the class, as tears filled our eyes. At the time, I felt good about sharing my grief and moved forward with my life, vowing that I would make it my mission to see that this never happened again to anyone else. Life was indeed good- or so I thought. Until next time -

Namaste,

Tim