I started this mess as a way to express myself.

Sure, the blog title itself is EMS related, but I didn’t create it specifically for EMS purposes. It was supposed to be an outlet for me.  I started writing on Myspace for crying out loud!

This was supposed to be a place to celebrate the little things and the big things. I’ve been writing since my early days the job.  I started by writing about what I was feeling while on runs as a new basic. I wrote about the first time I did CPR and felt that sickening “crack” that the instructors talk about. I wrote about when my daughter cut her beautiful blonde hair with my trauma sheers and covered herself in glitter. I wrote about going to medic school and failing. I wrote about going to medic school and succeeding.  I wrote about the first (and the third) time that an infant was thrust into my arms with a parent (or a firefighter) begging me to do what I could do.   I wrote about feeling helpless on hospice runs. I wrote about the number of times I watched poor CPR on network television.

My posts are kind of random.  Then again, so am I. 

900 posts later (holy hell, 900?) and I think I’ve lost my way.  Somewhere along the line I decided that anything I published should be EMS related and worth reading. And by “worth reading” I mean something along the lines of  The Happy Medic, or  CKEMTP, or Tom Bouthillet or Ambulance Driver, or Scott Kier. 

What I didn’t get until now is that I’m not them.  I’m just a chick in Ohio with a passion for EMS and a couple of kids who I adore like it’s my job… I don’t have the experiences that the veterans have.  I don’t have those experiences Yet. Well some of them I have… But honestly, I still feel all green and sparky and baby duck-like.

That being said, I’m reclaiming my blog.

This is my place.  You can read it or you can skip it.  You can comment, or you can choose not to. Just know this, the days of me fretting over whether or not what I’m publishing is relevant to EMS are over. 

I’m back.  And I’m proud of where I am. 

Even if it’s just a chick from Ohio who writes what she feels.  Even if it’s just a girl who puts pictures of her kids up.

Be safe out there, ya’ll, 

April

So… Tonight…

My youngest… She Who Rules.  The one who looked… Oh… Like this when I started blogging:

She Who Rules is now pushing six.  She lost her 4th tooth tonight.  The tooth fairy even left her a note!  The tooth fairy also realized that she didn’t have anything under a five on her.  That being said… It was a front tooth.  Everyone knows those are worth more money.

This is my girl.  Today.  In all her glory, complete with marker on her face.

Hey, it adds to her charm.  As if that wasn’t enough to make me feel somewhere younger than Old Man River but older than Old Yeller, my Son, The Future Cardiologist, turned eleven.  ELEVEN!!!!

This was him when I started my EMS journey. Younger than his baby sister is now.

This is him today.

That’s my boy.  My nose.  My bad eyesight.  My complexion (Sorry, kiddo, you’re going to suffer from the pimples well into your thirties if I’m any indication), and my height.  The only thing he didn’t get from me is “paleness”.

I couldn’t be prouder to have such a tenderhearted, generous, handsome, gracious young man as a Son.  And for God’s sake, I pray he never sees this post.  For the *checking sitemeter* six… count them SIX readers that I have… Please don’t tell FC about this.

All joking aside.  I have two beautiful children who make the really bad days bearable and the good days that much sweeter, and all of the stretch marks and wrinkles and gray hairs a non issue.

Am I getting old?  Hell YES I AM.  But we all are. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  I have everything I need and then some.

Be safe out there,

Epijunky

Folks, I have hit a wall.

Despite the literally HUNDREDS of blogable moments I’ve had in the last several months, I’ve found myself suffering from a severe case of writers block. I’m really not sure what that’s all about, all I know is that I’m working on it.  In the meantime, I’ve stumbled across a bit of a writing prompt in the form of a thirty day blogging challenge.  (Thank you to EMT Dani for the inspiration!)

So…. Day 1.  Introduce yourself.  Show a recent picture.  Share 15 interesting facts about yourself.

It seems kind of odd to introduce myself on a blog that I’ve been writing for over three years, but I’m game.

My name is April. I’m mom to two beautiful kids, Nick and Abby, who are 10 and 5 going on 15 respectively and are the most important people in my life.  Nick is a miniature version of my sensitive, inquisitive side. He loves music, and learning about anything and everything.  He’s been through a lot over the last two years, but he’s pulled through like a champ and is now thriving in a new school.  Abby is a carbon copy of my impulsive, wild, grab-life-by-the-horns side.  She started Kindergarten the very day that I worked my first shift as a medic and we’ve been going through our growing pains together in that way.  Most days we spend trying to incorporate pink into our wardrobe while chasing fire trucks.

I’ve been in EMS for almost six years as an EMT-B, and three months as a paramedic.  I just started a fantastic job with a hospital based service in NW Ohio that I’m beyond excited about.  I am one of those people who loves to learn, and this position is providing me with countless opportunities to do just that.  I consider it a privilege to do the work that I do, and I can’t see myself doing anything else.

I love photography.  More often than not I’m seen lugging a camera bag around with me.  There’s something… intoxicating… about being able to capture a moment in time.  You might shove those photographs away, or leave them on your hard drive for months on end, I know I do it.  But when you do get back to looking at them, it’s like you’re right back where you were when that photo was taken, complete with all of the emotions you were feeling at the time.  I love that.

Just Me and myself at EMS Expo last month.

15 Facts.

1.  I am a VERY lucky girl.  I am surrounded by some of the most amazing, encouraging, intelligent and kind people in the world (the lovely lady I’m standing next to in the above picture represents all of those traits and more).  I have the very best friends.  I have friends I can laugh with to the point of tears, I have friends who will kick me in the ass when I need it, I have friends who I can call at any time, day or night, with questions, or ideas, or just talk about any little thing.

2.  Up until last month, I had a fear of flying that was was so intense that for almost ten years I refused to get on a plane.  It was so bad that just the thought of flying was enough to make me shaky.  When faced with a 24 hour car ride vs. a two hour flight to Dallas, I opted for the flight.  I survived.

3.  My parents divorced when I was five and for the fifteen years that followed I spent every other weekend on a farm with my Dad.  Quite a change for a city girl.  As a result I can drive a tractor, I’ve played in a hopper wagon filled with soybeans, and for years got into more trouble with her cousins than any one girl should.  I’ve also been to at least ten National Tractor Pulling Championships in Bowling Green, Ohio.

Don’t judge me :)

4.  Speaking of Bowling Green, I attended Bowling Green State University and was a member of Kappa Delta Sorority.  I still keep in contact with many of my sisters on Facebook.

5.  I’m one of two children.  I have a younger brother who I absolutely adore and am so proud of.  He is a new Daddy to a beautiful little girl, which means that I’m now an Auntie.

6.  My mother wouldn’t allow me to get my drivers license until I was out of high school.  It made me a very angsty teenager, but looking back it was a very wise decision on her part.

7.  I lived in Colorado Springs for a while in my twenties.  I would give just about anything to move back there.  Absolutely gorgeous part of the country.

8.  Before going to EMT-B school I worked on computers.  For eight of the longest years of my life. I do not miss it.

9.  I have four tattoos, yet I hate having IV’s put in.  Yes, I’m one of those people.

10.  I am fascinated by abandoned buildings and love exploring them.  Mansfield Reformatory is one of my favorite places to do this.  I have chills just thinking about that place.

11.  I started writing at a very young age.  In the second grade I wrote a play about Christopher Columbus that my teacher allowed me to cast and perform in front of the kindergartners and first graders.

12.  I am fiercely protective of my people.  My children, my family, my friends.  I will go to war, walk through fire and face certain jail time for them.  That being said, I will forgive someone who has wronged me over and over and over again.

13.  I can be a miserably cranky Irish redhead.  (See how I made that one number 13?) I consider this one of my biggest downfalls.

14.  I am probably one of the clumsiest people in the world.  I pray to God that my children don’t inherit this trait from me.

15.  I change cell phones like I change clothes.  I drop them, I lose them… If there is a way to destroy a phone, I’ve probably done it.

(By the way, my phone number changed about two weeks ago… If I haven’t contacted you with the new number, I apologize, I’m working on it ;))

Tomorrow, God willing… Day two.

This is in response to the string of recent suicides by teenagers (gay and straight) being terrorized in school.  This is for Asher, and Billy, and Justin, and Seth, and Tyler… And for anyone, anywhere who feels like they’re not fitting in.  If you’re feeling like the hell you’re going through is NEVER going to end.  If you’re feeling like a freak, or a loser, or that NO one understands you, or ever will.  If you’re feeling like your family will not accept you, or that no one in this world cares about you or loves you for the amazing person you are.  This is for you.

I’m not going to tell you to turn the other cheek.  I’m not going to tell you to “just ignore it”… I’m not going to tell you to suck it up.

This sucks.  It’s something that no one should have to endure.

I can promise you this.  It…will…get…better.

I went to a small Catholic school for grade school…  Just 200 kids from Kindergarten to 8th grade.  My Mom received no help whatsoever financially from my father and had to work three jobs at times just to pay our tuition.  In her eyes, keeping my Brother and I in this school was important.  She wanted us to get the best education possible.  She wanted us in a “safer” environment than the local public school (which to her credit, was a pretty rough grade school).

For five years I very much enjoyed school.  I was an above average student, and found so many opportunities to do creative things there.  I really did love it.  I had a lot of friends, and not a care in the world.  And you shouldn’t, at that age.

When I started 5th grade, it was like a switch flipped.  We had a group of girls in class who decided that they didn’t like me (I’ll call them the Brat Pack).  Apparently the green gray and white plaid pants that my Mom had to spend entirely too much money on were “not cool”. This group of girls convinced my friends that they shouldn’t talk to me either.  Before I knew it, I was completely alone.  No one in class would speak to me. During recess I’d be standing by myself on the playground.  When I’d raise my hand to ask or answer a question, the Brat Pack would snicker and make jokes about me.  It got to the point where I wouldn’t raise my hand anymore. I wouldn’t look anyone in the eye.  I cried, constantly.

My teachers saw all of this going on, and chose to do nothing. I tried to talk to my Mom about it, but more often than not she was working.  If she wasn’t working, she was exhausted.  She tried to console me.  She’d hug me, kiss me on the head, and tell me to “ignore them.”

Ignore them.  Heh.  Doesn’t really work with 11 and 12-year-old kids.

In sixth grade, the Brat Pack went on a mini vandalism spree with some spray paint.  They tagged the first newish car that my Mother had ever been able to buy.  I’ll never forget the look on her face when she saw the paint. The only reason we knew who did it was because the leader of the Brat Pack wrote her name on the neighbors garage.  The girls were caught, admitted what they had done, and in the end were forced to pay to have the car taken care of (as well as the three other garages they tagged). Two weeks later, one of those same girls picked up a broken pool cue from behind the bar across the street from my house and hit me over the back with it.  All because I wasn’t walking far enough ahead of them on my way to school. I wish I could say that things improved later on that year, or even the year after that, but in all honesty it took moving on to high school for things to get better.

But things did… get better.

**********

When I became a Mom to my first child, Nicholas, from the first second I laid eyes on him I swore to God that I would walk through fire for this boy.  I would do anything and everything to protect him.  The love that you have for your babies, and your instinct to protect them at all costs doesn’t change as they grow from infants to little people.

I’ve written about Nick’s (and yes, I realize I’m calling him by his actual name) voracious appetite for knowledge.  That’s where his blog persona (Future Cardiologist) came from.  He was five-years-old and flipping through one of my text books on EKG’s from class.  He wanted to know what each rhythm meant.  He ended up recreating them in a notebook, in crayon.

That’s my boy, ya’ll.

Nick is the male version of myself at his age.  He’s tall, thin, and has to wear glasses.  He’s a little clumsy.  He’s unbelievably smart.  He has a small group of friends that he eats lunch with, talks to on the phone, and plays video games with.  He loves school.

That’s him now.

That was him two years ago.

That was not him last year.

It started the same way for him that it did for me.  A group of kids decided that because he was a little different, he wasn’t worthy of their friendship.  Because he was a little different, he was less than.  Because he was a little different, he didn’t deserve to be spoken to.  Because he was a little different from them, he didn’t deserve to be treated like a human being.

These… children…  They tortured my little boy.  It started with them making fun of him, which turned in to things like taking things off of his lunch tray, and eventually escalated to physical violence.  He was exactly where I was, and while I knew something was going on, I wasn’t getting the full story from him.

The very second I realized that we had a problem at his school, I went to his teacher.  I put faith in that woman that she’d actually follow up with the promises she made.  I did what I could do to build Nick up outside of school by getting him involved in soccer and art lessons (both of which he had expressed an interest in).  I prayed that things would improve.

Nick was always one who would give me every detail about his school day…  That was changing.  Where before he’d give me details about his friends Pokemon cards, now I had to beg him to tell me if he had even ate his lunch or if he had enjoyed art that day.  He was slowly shutting down.  I went above his teacher’s head to the Assistant Principal when it was clear that nothing was being done.  I agreed when she asked me to give her a week to try to figure out what could be done.

I remember looking in my rear view mirror as I was getting ready to drop him off one morning and seeing a child I didn’t recognize.  Instead of his crooked smile and beautiful bright eyes, he was pale.  He looked ill.  When I asked him if he was feeling okay, he just started sobbing.  I turned the car around and kept him home that day.  While he watched reruns of Spongebob and played on his DS, I marched into the Principal’s office and threatened to come back with a news crew “who would LOVE to do a story about bullying in school”.  She promised that she would take care of the problem that day, that she was completely unaware of “the situation” and “just horrified”.

I begged Nick to give me two days to make things right.  I promised him that if I couldn’t, I would pull him out of that school.  He put on his brave face and agreed.

The following day while in Medic class, I received a phone call from his principal.  She said that Nick was in her office, and that he was in trouble, and that she wanted him to tell me why.  When she put him on the phone he was hysterical.  Through sobs he explained that one of the kids who had been picking on him had taken the cookies from his lunch two days before.  He had decided to get back at him by taking the kids chocolate milk.  A teacher saw him do it and dragged him to the principals office where he sat for an hour before she called me.  Kids had been doing this to HIM off and on for two months straight.  He stood up for himself for once, and they pulled him in the office for it.  This is a child who had never been in trouble a day in his entire life.  This was a child who I had just explained to the same Principal was sweet, and tenderhearted, and hurting so badly because of the way he was being treated by his classmates.   I went from being angry, to being in a blind rage.  I assured Nick that I wasn’t upset with him, I told him to try to calm down, and that I’d be right there.  When I got to his school, I signed him out, I walked him out to the car, gave him a hug, and told him I’d be right back.

I marched back into that Principals office and unleashed on her to the point where I’m lucky I wasn’t arrested.

The following day he was enrolled at another school where he still attends today.  He is back to his old self again, thank God.  He’s got a great group of friends, he’s happy, and he looks forward to class.  His new school has a very good anti-bullying program, but honestly, he doesn’t have problems with that there.  He’s just one of the kids.

I thank God every day that things turned out the way they did.

**********

My story, and Nick’s story it’s no more or less important than yours.  They might be mild compared to what you’re going through.  I understand that.

My God, just… I want you to realize how amazing you truly are.  I want you to realize how much you have ahead of you.  The best parts of your life haven’t even happened yet!  Had I taken my own life, and I did think about it… more than once… I wouldn’t be around to be a Mom to my amazing Son, Nick, or his beautiful and equally as fantastic Sister, Abby.

Let me tell you about another person I couldn’t live without.  I want to tell you about one of my best friends in this world.  His name is Matthew.

I’ve only known him for a few years, but he’s grown into a person who I know that I can call at any hour of the day for any reason.  He’s someone who I’ve cried to, who I’ve laughed with, and I know we have each others back.  No matter what.   He’s an amazing Paramedic who helped drag my sorry butt through Medic school.  He’s one of a select few who I’d ever let take care of my kids.  He’s one of my best friends in the world.  I am in awe of this man and everything that he is.  I don’t know what I’d do without him.  I can honestly say that.  The thought of not having him in my life, even through he’s 15 hours away… It’s inconceivable.

And you know what?  He’s gay. And he’s been where you are.

And I thank God that he was strong enough to get through what he has and turn out to the the unbelievable person he is.

You know what the crazy thing is?  I’ve never met Matthew.  I only know him through numerous phone conversations and chat conversations online.

Know that there are people out there who you don’t even know who love you unconditionally and would do anything for you.  Taking your own life is never the answer.  Don’t be afraid to ask for help.  Please, we need you here.  You truly are destined for fantastic things.

Matthew  got through his personal hell.  Nick and I got through our own hells.

You can do it too. I promise you that.  You can.  You really can!

IT WILL GET BETTER.

It really will.

The Trevor Project has a Lifeline for LGBTQ youth that you can call 24 hours a day.  The phone number is 1-866-488-7386.

The Kristin Brooks Hope Center has a hotline as well.  For anyone who’s hurting out there.  The number is 1-800-442-HOPE

**********

In honor of:

Asher Brown.  He was tortured by kids at his school who called him “queer” and “faggot”.  They pushed him around literally and figuratively for over a year.  His parents did everything that they could to help him by going to school officials and counselors, but nothing was done to help this boy.  In late September, reaching his breaking point, he found his Father’s gun and shot himself in the head. He was just 13-years-old.

Billy Lucas.  Billy loved animals, he bred horses and lambs for show.  Because he was perceived as being gay, some kids decided that he wasn’t worthy of being treated like a human being.  They picked on him relentlessly. One of them told him to “Go kill yourself.”  The following day he hung himself with one of the leads from his prized show horse from the rafters in his Grandparents barn.  He was only 15.

Justin Aaberg.  He loved to play the cello.  From what I’ve read, he was shy, but had always had a huge smile on his face.  He came out to his friends when he was 13, after which he was harassed by kids at school to the point where he felt his only option was to hang himself this past July.  His Mother found him.  He was 15-years-old.

Seth Walsh.  Seth had been teased since the 4th grade just because he was gay.  For years he was tortured by these kids, being told that “the world doesn’t need another queer.”  After some bullying from older teenagers, he felt his only way out would be to hang himself from a tree in his back yard.  His Mother found him and pulled him down.  He was on life support for nine days before dying in September.  He was 13.

Tyler Clementi.  Tyler was a freshman at Rutgers University with a bright future and a talent for the violin.  His roommate, Dharun Ravi and Dharun’s friend Molly Wei set up a webcam and LIVE STREAMED Tyler having an intimate encounter with another man in their dorm room.  When Tyler realized what had happened, he jumped off of the George Washington bridge.  Tyler was 18.

Guess who’s an Auntie for the first time?

THIS GIRL :)

Lil’ Peanut

9lbs 14 oz (!)

21 inches long

Congratulations to my Baby Brother and his beautiful wife!

Today… Was one of the hardest days of my life.  I’ve never felt like a bigger failure as a parent.

But knowing that my little Princess will get the help she needs… It more than makes up for it.

SWR, you can do this.

To the only man who has ever been a true Father to me.

To the man who gave me advice about guys and was the first one to put an arm around my shoulder when things didn’t go as I had hoped.  To the man who protected me from my Mom when I pulled her car up against a concrete post and did 2k worth of damage.  To the man who makes the best apple pancakes you’ve ever had, and can grill like it’s his job.  To the man who took me to see Terminator 2 and didn’t make fun of me when I cried at the end.  (Hey, cut a girl some slack.  It was SAD, dammit!)  To the man who wouldn’t put up with my teenage angst and wouldn’t let me get away with anything.  To the man who has supported me, no matter what crazy idea I’ve come up with (like say, becoming a medic).

The man who loves my children like they are his own biological grandchildren.  My kids worship the ground he walks on, and nine times out of ten prefer to talk to over even my Mom.  To the man who spoils them on a level I can’t even comprehend, and at the same time will reign them in the very second they show a sign of being disrespectful or unappreciative.

To the man who loves my Mom like she’s the only woman he’s ever laid eyes on.  The one who makes her feel like a queen, every day.  Even after 19 years. The one who has not just put up with, but has loved her kids.  And her kids kids. The one who made her the happiest woman on the planet, one year ago today.

Happy Father’s Day, Brian.  We love you.  Thank you for loving us like we were your own.

No, this isn’t one of those posts.

This is one of those me posts.

Most of you know that I have two little ones.

Well, they aren’t so little anymore.  I just took Future Cardiologist shoe shopping and I realized that we now are within half a size of eachother as far as shoes go.  Considering the fact that I’m 6’1″, that’s pretty significant.

He’s ten, folks.  TEN.

This is what the little guy looks today. He’s the one on the right in case you were wondering…

This is what he looked like around the time I started blogging.

The little princess in my life, She Who Rules, is now five.  She’s starting kindergarten in September.  Today, I signed her up for Safe-T-City.  Safe-T-City is a program that the Toledo Police Department puts on for kids getting ready to start school… Basically they teach them about strangers and in general how to keep themselves safe.

She might trade her brother for a cupcake, but she wont be taking candy from a stranger.

She Who Rules, back when I started blogging.

Note the fact that her t-shirt, even back then, still spells out her…*cough*appreciation for her brother.

So yes, I had myself a little cry.

My babies… they’re growing up.  And if anyone out there has a way to stop this from happening, I’d appreciate it if you’d share it with me.

I am done.

Done ya’ll.

Done feeling sorry for myself. Done downplaying what I’ve accomplished. Done apologizing for things that I don’t need to apologize for. I’m done feeling like I’m simply not good enough.  I’m done waiting.  I’m done waiting for things to go my way, and done beating the hell out of myself when they don’t.

That’s life after all.

I’m not a victim and I’m not broken.  This woe-is-me bull shit is over.

I am a Mom to two of the most beautiful, gracious, compassionate children in the world, and they are truly what is vital to me, they are quite literally the air that I need to breathe.  I feel like I’ve won the lottery every day that I get a hug from one of them, every day that I get to tuck them in to bed, every day that I get to argue with them that really “last time you tried chicken you LOVED it!”.

I’m lucky enough to be able to say that I LOVE my job, there aren’t many people who can say that.   True, I might not work for the best service in the country.  Or in the state.  Or even in the city, but I can change that.  I can be the change that my employer needs.  And I’m working on that now.

I’m fortunate enough to be a part of an amazing group of people learning from a fantastic instructor.  We’re all in this for the right reasons, and I can’t wait to see what we can accomplish once we’ve gotten our medic cards.

I am, in fact, surrounded by truly good people.  People who I would trust with not only my life but the life of my kids.  Some of you might be just a few streets over, some of you are a few states over.  There are two of you who don’t even reside in the US.  Distance doesn’t really matter after all.

I am a very lucky girl. It might have taken me a good bit to actually realize it, but I know it as fact now.

So I’m done being a Debbie Downer.   I’m done being “Dark and Twisty”.

The real me is back.  And she’s practically bionic.

Ready or not, ya’ll, here I come.