I am a paramedic in a busy city and I have been working in EMS since I was 16. More often than not, when someone finds out what I do, or sees me in uniform running errands, they will ask the question that every one of us in EMS is asked.
"What's the worst thing you've seen?!"
I'm not sure what answer people desire. Do they want to know about mangled cars wrapped around trees? Do they want tales of blood and gore? Are they looking for some grand story of how I pulled someone back from the tight grips of death? Nobody calls 911 because they are having a great day.
The "sparks" love that question. I used to be like that. Waiting on the edge of my seat for the "big call" where I got to be the hero. That isn't how it works.
I was asked that question last night by a patient. She was serious when she asked, and we actually really got into the discussion. I thought about it for a while. Seeing body parts thrown everywhere is certainly unpleasant, but I am busy looking for the people I can help. Having someone bleeding everywhere with bones sticking out of skin is messy, but I am focused on controlling the problem, not looking at the gross factor. Some people would list childbirth as the worst call, but I LOVE being the one helping to deliver a baby, and that is beautiful to me. Last time I was at a delivery I think I cried more than the mom!
Part of growing up in a strict Christian home is learning many, many verses. I remembered 2 in Matthew 6:22-23a "The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness."
It dawned on me, no matter what type of call I have, the eyes are the thing that bother me the most, and the thing that literally haunts my memory.
I tell my partners that I can stomach just about any type of call except eyes. I mean it. I hate any type of trauma to the eye, or even just an infection, and I have had to suppress the urge to vomit any time someone has an eye complaint. I will happily take all of the transfers, the GI bleeds, and the trach calls if my partner will just take the eye related complaints.
Eyes can tell you so much about a person. We can communicate with just a look, and that is something special that spans not only the human world, but crosses into communication with our animals as well. We can establish a bond and a trust without being able to speak the same language. We can convey such emotion. We can see if someone may have jaundice. We can see if they have been using drugs. We have to confirm that the eyes are still when we pronounce a death. We can see that someone may have a potential serious brain injury. We can look into some that look like forest pools and become lost. We can see life.
One of the earliest calls I remember is when I was working a cardiac arrest on a family friend. I was in charge of his airway, so I was sitting above his head. I closed his eyes, but every time we hit a bump they would open. It didn't scare me, but it upset me. I hated looking back into his eyes thinking that I was the one who was breathing for him now. We did everything we possibly could for him and everything went as it should, but he died. The only thing worse than looking into his eyes was walking out of his room and looking into his wife's eyes. She and I worked together. She saw me and didn't need to be told. She could read my eyes.
Probably the most disturbing thing I've ever done was stand face with a man who had taken his own life. I was called to pronounce him dead after he had been found hanging in his garage. It was a very small space, so in order to get the EKG strip that the police needed, I ended up having to stand right in front of him, inches from his face. I always pictured hangings like on tv where they are high on gallows. This wasn't like that. He was so low that he was standing on the floor with his knees bent. His eyes were wide open, staring straight at me with no life behind them and all I could think about was how he looked like he could so easily have stood straight up.
Probably the most disturbing thing I've ever done was stand face with a man who had taken his own life. I was called to pronounce him dead after he had been found hanging in his garage. It was a very small space, so in order to get the EKG strip that the police needed, I ended up having to stand right in front of him, inches from his face. I always pictured hangings like on tv where they are high on gallows. This wasn't like that. He was so low that he was standing on the floor with his knees bent. His eyes were wide open, staring straight at me with no life behind them and all I could think about was how he looked like he could so easily have stood straight up.
I have looked into the eyes of people who truly believe they are the devil himself. They speak in tongues. They are very strong, and their stare can chill me to the bone. I have looked into the eyes of pure gratitude and helplessness in an elderly woman who had fallen in her kitchen and broken her hip after spilling boiling water on herself and being trapped on the cold floor for 3 days. She was burned, freezing, and soaked with her own waste, and so glad that we found her.
It is difficult for me to look into the eyes of someone who's pupils look like saucers, and is barely breathing, because after I have given them the medicine they need to breath on their own again, that blank stare turns to rage. It doesn't matter that I saved their life, I took away their high.
I remember going to a call for a car that had driven under a tractor trailer. The car was crushed, but it needed to be confirmed that the driver had died and had no chance for revival. All of the police and fire fighters on scene were saying what we all say to make things like this a bit easier, "He didn't know what hit him". When fire had finally moved enough debris for me to crawl into the car to confirm death, I was able to see that the man had been decapitated by the truck. I was the only one small enough to get into the car, and the only one there to see the look on that man's face. Never before had I seen such a look of pure terror. He knew exactly what hit him.
One night I was at a scene where a man had been ejected from a car and run over so much that the only way to tell he was human was the clothes. As we were walking through the scene I saw something shinny and not bloody like everything else. I pushed it a bit with my foot and saw that it was his eye.
Not all of the eyes that haunt me are from my patients. Not all are from adults who made poor choices. How do you look into the eyes of a 4 year old who looks up at you with such innocence and confusion and tell him that he has to go play at the neighbor's for a while because you couldn't wake up his mommy who he had found lying on the floor surrounded by empty alcohol and pill bottles? How do you forget the time that you had a state trooper run up to you and hand you a screaming, naked, freezing 2 year old boy, covered in abrasions and dirt, who had been abducted from his home by mom's angry ex-boyfriend? I watched the look in his eyes turn from terrified to trusting as I swaddled him and held him as tightly as I could, and just kept telling him how much I loved him and that he was safe now.
It's wonderful looking in the eyes of a patient who you watch go from pain to comfort. I love watching the look of relief in a family's eyes when they see that their loved one is alright. I love holding a newborn and seeing them open their eyes for the first time. I can ease worry with a wink, I can show I care without a word. Eyes are powerful. I can forget some of the gore and disgusting smells and things the media love. I can't forget those eyes. Their images are burned in my mind.
It may not be the exciting answer that people want to hear when they ask me, but it is my honest answer.
This wasn't at all about being homeschooled, but I woke up and just started typing. This is what came out.
Love, Heather
