In the semi-conscious state of intoxicated dreams, the blaring horn goes off and my body instinctually half-seizes as I dive for the radio nestled on the charger by my head. My sleeping bag becomes a ball; I half hurl forward, fumble with the knobs to get it to channel 4 in time. I don't know how long I take to do that as I find the ground beneath my feet and catch a glimpse of my friend awakened by the louder-than-I-remember sound of the radio's tone. "EMT Supervisor on line." I jam my feet into my boots like the world depended on it, tap my jacket pockets only to do a two-step back into room to grab my gloves. I am galloping down the staircase when the nature of the call comes in and its severity spikes my adrenaline even higher than humanly possible--"EMT Supervisor received and responding" and then the hazy concoction of words and voices interject again. They come in intense snippets of memories, these vivid flashbacks of nuanced images of what I saw and heard in fleeting moments, replaying over and over again in my head. The gaps in memory are scattered but occasionally retrievable in retrospect, if I think long and hard about it. I don't remember how but the helmet is on my head--"Dispatch to all EMTs to ... Be advised that AFD is en route-" "Shoot, this is a serious one," my head spins. "I need you guys to respond to ... for I think a possible ...," dispatcher speaks, no more words needed, I hear the urgency. Somewhere in the flurry of that, I discard the idea of putting on my gloves because it'll waste me 5 seconds. My legs are steel and the only energy that exists in my body is right now directed in getting to the scene as fast as humanly possible--I have no other feeling or sensation in my mind and body. I don't even know what time it is and I don't care--I have no recollection if it was light or dark as I swooped pass gravel road. My legs burn but I don't even feel the hill and fly through the frigid air, recite an impromptu prayer under my breath "God be with me," half collapsing the bike onto the ground and stumble back to lean it against the wall. I am already halfway up the stairs of the building. I overshoot and go one floor over--I run back down, turn right and realise I need to go the other way--I turn back, this guy below points to my left, I nod thank you and fly again. I turn the corner and just then,
it hits me.
In that half-second interval, I register that all this is happening. This is happening. And I feel the nerves under my skin and my heart thudding so hard on my chest. I might explode but I convince myself no, calm down, breathe, snap out of it, you know better. My breath was fast, it must've been. I think.
It hits me that I am stepping into the unknown--a void space that knows no existence of anticipation because you don't even know what it is to anticipate. You can never really know. Especially with these odd 6am post-Friday night calls when you are in your own kind of high. But as I make that turn, before my eyes frantically search for my patient and before I give more than my heart and mind could give in this line of work, I dwell in that half-second--that seemingly insignificant half-second--that I do not know what I am going to find.
But secretly, an almost disguised catharsis of emotion bellows deep in my gut.
And I know that I am here.
I am here in this moment in time, doing what I am doing with more than what my whole mind, body, and heart could ever give an account for. In the hazy shades of dawn, accelerated blaze across campus, and unassuming silent air, this is me: radio tucked into the cusp of my hand, dark blue jacket hanging from my shoulders, hair all over my face.
I am here
and I don't wish to be anywhere else.
For the people I do this job for.
For all of you.
And I will always be here.
