Rocked (The Everyday Heroes World) - Julia Wolf Page 0,22
was on shift, I got a decent amount of sleep, but that hadn’t been the case yesterday. Or was it today? I had no idea. After working a twenty-four-hour swing, I was often disoriented for a little while.
Summer was winding down and it seemed people were cramming every bad decision they could into the last week or two. Last night, I treated burns from sparklers, a boy who’d overturned his ATV and broke most of the bones in his face, and someone who’d fought a grill and lost. Then there was the car accident and suspected stroke. Not to mention the domestic violence that nearly ripped my heart to shreds.
I shook it all off. My first year on the job, I carried every story and tragedy with me and became so heavy and weighed down, I hadn’t been sure I’d be able to continue as a paramedic. It was too much, trekking home to my little girl, my heart full of sorrow.
Then I got partnered with Cary Grimes, the most grizzled, insensitive bastard who’d ever worked the job. We’d been washing the unit together—really, I’d been washing it while he’d pointed out the spots I’d missed—and out of nowhere, he said, “Kathleen Murphy, I’ve got a piece of advice for you.”
Needless to say, he’d caught my attention. When our captain assigned us as partners, it was no surprise to anyone when Cary protested. I’d been twenty-three, green as hell, and my worst crime—I was a woman. I’d kept my head down and did what needed doing, all while Cary continued his grumbling. So, when he offered me advice, I braced for impact.
“When I first started, I’d leave almost every shift, down a fifth of whiskey, and have a good cry. It was too much for me. I’d think about every patient who passed through my care, worried over them. Finally, my wife, Gretchen, told me I either had to quit or make a change. I wasn’t about to quit. Don’t know how.” He rubbed his hand over the thin strands of gray clinging to his scalp. “That day, I decided I’d give the best care I knew how and that was what I’d carry home with me. Not the outcome, which I couldn’t control. Not my patient’s pain, which I couldn’t unburden them from. That’s it, girly. You do that, you go home feeling good about making a difference. Otherwise, this job’ll eat atcha until there’s nothing left.”
For the most part, I’d taken his advice, compartmentalizing my work self from my home self. And Cary…well, he retired to Arizona a couple years ago. His wife still sent me Christmas cards every year. The last one contained a picture of the two of them in matching outfits on the golf course. He’d even cracked a smile for it.
So, even though I was tired from work, I pushed it all away and got moving. I had better things to do than sleep.
My body knew the route I was taking from sense memory. Every chance I got, I came out to the craggy rocks in the state park outside town. Climbing had been my addiction since I discovered how good I was at it as a kid. There wasn’t a tree, boulder, or fence I wouldn’t try to scale. Now, at least once a week, I met up with rock climbing buddies to get our climb on.
My friend, Rhea, hopped out of her Jeep as I pulled into the parking lot. We were both members of the same rock-climbing meet-up group, two of the few women, but we first met through work. She was a nurse in the trauma unit at Melville Hospital, so we often crossed paths. We were both so busy, we usually only saw each other when we were climbing or when I’d pass off any details she needed to know about a patient I was bringing in.
“Hey, girl.” Rhea slung a crash pad on her back and her backpack on her front. “You ready to make Cooper’s your bitch?”
“So ready. I need that adrenaline to keep me awake.” With my own crash pad on my back, we trekked through the woods, meeting up with others in our group. There were always different people out here, depending on the day, and after all the years I’d been climbing, I knew most of them.
“Hey, the crew is meeting up at Hooligan’s Friday night. Are you working? If not, you should come.”