I sat in the drivers seat of an ambulance today for almost 25 minutes. No warm up. I just took a deep breath and got in. That’s what normal paramedics do. My OT is happy that I’m learning to ground for practical periods of time, meaning for example if I was on modified duties and tasked with driving an ambulance somewhere I could manage my anxiety well enough to do it. I’m happy with that too. The progress is becoming evident. Next session I sit in the cab alone and attempt to stay grounded and present by myself. After some proficiency with that we start exploring the back and the equipment.

Death has many adjectives. Traumatic. Expected. Obvious. Workable. Witnessed. Suspicious. Intentional. Telling friends and family their loved one(s) was/were too dead for any successful intervention always bothered me deeply. At least when a VSA was viable they saw you try first. I long ago lost count of the number of times I had to deflate and kill that hope. “Your mother passed too long ago to be resuscitated”. “Your father would have died sometime overnight, I don’t know how long his passing took”. “Your son appears to have overdosed and had a seizure”. “Your son asphyxiated himself too long ago for our attempts at resuscitation to be successful”. “No, I’m not lying to you, there isn’t anything we can do to help her”.

Code 5. Obvious death. Call dispatch. Do the form, notify the coroner and bail. Emotional code 5 off to the next call.

Sitting in the drivers seat today as I felt that flush of angst creeping across my brow and stepping on my chest I told myself “I know I’m not on the way to do that. I’m nowhere but here”, and today I was indeed nowhere but there.