Admit it: EMS stresses you out

A recent story in the Tampa Tribune, available here, talks about the "price" first responders pay for the stressors encountered on the job. My comment to my friend who posted it: "The reality of the job stressors in our environment is becoming more evident. I'm seeing more and more of this come out, and its about time. The public needs to understand that when you strip the uniform off, a human being remains." I caught some flak from another EMSer who read my reply and said "You need thicker skin or you'll never last." Let's see: 17 years as an EMT compared to his five..yeah, I think I'll last.

This isn't about developing "thicker skin." I'd like to think that all of us have a limit, a point where being human overcomes the "superhuman" attributes the general public likes to hang on our shoulders. We all wear different uniforms; some wear SCBA, others wear guns, we wear stethoscopes. But inside the uniform is a human being, someone who (hopefully) still retains the ability to feel raw human emotion in response to a an unnatural situation. We face it all the time, and I challenge you to stand up and say you have never, ever, been affected by at least one patient you've encountered over the course of your career. If you haven't been yet, you will be. Just wait and see.

Let's also not forget the other vital individuals in our daily lives who face similar, if not the same, stressors: our dispatchers and call takers. I have the unique opportunity to serve in both roles (field provider and dispatcher) on a regular basis, and I can attest to the genuine emotion felt when you see a job hit the terminal that you just don't want to put out: the Dad who OD'd on heroin while his kids napped. The dump truck rolled over on a car with a mother and infant inside. The child who's not breathing. I've dispatched each of those calls, each with the (somewhat) expected end results, and felt absolutely helpless as crews responded. There was nothing I could physically do to help, and hearing the emptiness in the crews' voices when they cleared the job filled me with a sadness I don't wish upon anyone.

It's part of our job, and something that we are trained to handle as responders; at least from a patient care & transport angle. What we aren't trained to do is harness our emotions, call time out, and take care of ourselves after such a traumatic experience. It's high time we, as providers and leaders of the field, take the reigns and start taking care of our own.