Trauma?

I haven't been sleeping lately. I've been plagued with dreams of recent and not so recent events. Namely 9/11. Ten years this September. Ten. Years. I cannot believe it. I can tell you exactly where I was, exactly what was said. Everything about that day is like an oil painting. I can see it all, hear it all, but it's blurry. I was in health class. 7th grade. Ms Wright came waddling in (she was enormous) and said, "The World Trade Center has just been bombed." Being 13 at the time, none of us knew how to react. We watched it the rest of the day. We saw the second plane hit, we saw the people jumping. Jumping, because a quick end would have been better than whatever horrific fate awaited them inside the burning, melting, hellish towers. We watched the towers collapse. The 110-story Twin Towers came down. The dust was all over. Friends were pulled from school that day. I stayed, and when I got home couldn't stop watching. My relationship with emergency services began around this time. I was a Police Explorer for a local PD. Seeing FDNY, NYPD and PAPD running INTO the cloud was overwhelming. I remember wanting to go and help, to do anything really, but I couldn't. I was only 13 and felt so small and helpless. Over the days and months we watched the city work on recovering. The Yankees had a hell of a run, that was a nice way to forget, if only for 9 innings. But it will have been ten years since then, and now I'm where I want to be. I'm an EMT and a firefighter, and am completely capable to help in any capacity. I'm still terrified though. Maybe I need a shrink.

Haze.

I've been in kind of a haze the last two days. I didn't really think I would, but my desire to deal with the pain got the better of me. Me, my dad, and my uncles drank our fucking faces off. We made toasts to the big fella, to grampa, to dad, to everything my grandfather was. I just paid for it by puking my fucking brains out. That was sort of disgusting. Ever throw up rice? It isn't pleasant. Funeral was today, and that was absolutely brutal. As it so happened, the sergeant running the honor guard is a masonic brother of mine. Was great to see him there.

All that's left.

Heart-wrenching, guttural, fury-inducing sadness.

All's well that ends well.

The phone rang at 2141, and I knew exactly why. My dad was calling from my grandparents house. He was at my grampa's side and it was over. I just knew it. I ran upstairs to hear my mom say, "I'm sorry." I sat down on my bed and waited for my mom. She came out and knew just by looking at me that I knew what was going on. We woke up my sister and told her. Back downstairs I went. I was still awake from the day before and my brain was just friend. Eventually, I broke down. The massive outpouring of support from friends on Facebook was what did it. My Masonic brethren were also an immense, strong column. Hey, wait a sec... I got it out of my system for the moment and then dad got home. We did a shot of Jameson, "To grampa," and then just sat and talked for a bit. He was there at the end, it was quick and painless.

I guess if you're gonna go, that's how to do it. In your own house surrounded by your family. Here was a man who lived on his own terms, but with values. Family was the most important thing in the world to him. Not just his own family, but the human family. He was alive on December 7th, 1941. He took up the mantle of his country and fought across foreign lands, against death itself to protect millions he didn't even know. His best friend and roomate from Notre Dame perished in that war. He only spoke to me about it once. That was all I needed to hear. Liberating a Nazi death camp, seeing the emaciated, weak, pathetic looking prisoners and knowing that they have been saved. He raised 3 boys and a girl, my father, uncles and aunt. We were all there yesterday. I think he knew. At least, I like to think he knew. I said my goodbyes and thank yous, and his breathing changed a bit. I wasn't sure if it was an attempt at talking or if he was crying or what, but I knew he heard me and I'm glad he did.

Snow. Cold. Inside and out.

I don't really know how to start this off, so we'll start at 2300 last night. Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep. Pager goes off, we're requested to mutual aid Schenectady City Fire for a working structure fire. Sweeeeeeeeet. Off we go, holy shit it's fully involved. Flames through the roof, visible through windows, massive smoke condition visible for miles. And there were also containers full of an explosive substance that made us think we were getting shot at. When you hear "SHOTS FIRED SHOTS FIRED," you find something large and metal and get behind it. Apparatus wheels work well. Oh ok, wasn't a shooter. I didn't really do much of anything on that scene except for carry shit, and was requested back at our station for medicals. I wasn't in the door for 10 seconds when we got toned out to a foot laceration. I didn't throw on my turnouts and was in jeans and sneakers. Zero traction + snow = me slipping and sliding all over the patient's front walk. The crew members who are all senior over me got a really good laugh out of that. I was mandated to wear my turnouts the rest of the night. This proved to be a good thing as our next calls were all some pretty long walks. Had a lovely stroke patient. 95 years old, sweet as ever, not very oriented though. Talked to her, calmed her down, got to the ER. Of course the ER was absolutely packed with 2 nurses running the whole thing. Those poor gals. Got back to the station around 0345, and the ladder truck was still in the city. We hurried up and waited, got one more medical and then back in quarters around 0430. We got back the same time as the ladder truck, helped get them squared away, hosed down, squeegeed the floor and such. Finally got home around 0500. I had literally just sat down when our home phone rang. Oh shit. Something happened to grampa. Sure enough it was my hysterical aunt. His breathing had changed and they don't know how long he has. That was around 12 hours ago. His breathing is still shallow and labored and he is sleeping most of the time. I haven't slept yet, but I did take a shower which was the best thing in the world. That got me all back on track. Ran one medical a few hours ago, am now hunkered back down at gramma's house.

Time to hurry up and wait again.

In bed right now so this will be short, yay Android. I'm mildly perturbed at a situation I'm in. Note the term "FRIEND." Make friend who is female, friend helps me study, generally end up at the bar post-emt stuff. Last Saturday after the practical, I went out drinking as usual. Later that evening, I texted female friend from class. The response was from a mutual friend, essentially saying "I know you Just wanna get into her pants. She's a carpet muncher. Don't even try blah blah." I'm gentlemanly with this kid, but I'm seething. He makes an assumption and it snowballs into influencing someones opinion of me. I know you've only been out of high school for a year dude, but this is the real world. Welcome to it. I'm just appalled he'd use a discriminating term to describe his friend, while completely alienating me from them. I have nothing to say to either of them, I'm afraid its going to just be a, "piss off."

No Christmas cards for them.

Progress!

Thursday night was the SCCC EMT test. Passed! Today was the EMT-B practical skills exam for NYS DOH. Passed!

Score.