05/01/2020
Iām not a sentimental person by anyoneās standards. Those who know me also know that I tend to throw everything out, keep a very tidy house, and donāt get attached to or keep āthingsā. If Iām being honest, it all stems from a rough childhoodā letās just say that there are some deep psychological hoarding tendencies that run in my family. So Iāve always been a minimalist. If an item doesnāt serve a purpose, I get rid of it. I guess itās my way of exerting control over chaos. Today, Martin was swapping his Winter and Summer clothes and brought up a bin from the basement. Inside were lots of his treasuresā old fraternity t-shirts, diplomas, pictures, trinkets, etc. At the very bottom of the bin was just one of mine. A folded uniform shirt, still ringed with dirt and sweat around the collar. In the pockets were faded EKG strips, a couple of syringes, some long-since dried up alcohol prep pads and a pair of tattered gloves. The top was adorned with my badges of serviceā these are the only things I have ever kept from my past. These little doohickeys have seen more sorrow, sweat, long sighs, blood, held-back tears, late night delirious laughter with my partners and crews, tragedies, deaths, even a few births, unimaginable heaps of teamwork, total long shots and true miracles than Iāll ever be able to recall. I decided to wash the uniform, try it on (still fits!) and hang it in the far corner of my closetā a reminder of why I went into this field in the first place, all those years ago: when things are dark and scary and heavy and full of gloom, the only real treasure we have is each other and with that comes the responsibility to reach out, to help those in need, and to do our own parts to the absolute best of our abilities. Those long nights on the ambulance put me through some of the most challenging experiences of my life, but I would never trade the memories or the relationships and I would do it all again in a heart beat. @ Atlanta, Georgia