So you get home to someone who gets it and they ask how your day went you can just tell them, well I run an MI, had a car accident with a pneumo, a symptomatic bradi, and took care of a kid that had a 6 cm lac on his distal forearm. Little longer to explain that to someone who doesn't know. Last, I have to say it is nice to date someone who gets why you do it and why you can be in the middle of something and the tones come and you drop everything and leave.
Someone who thinks that means that you love the job more then you love them because of this, well you tend to grow away from and distance yourself. Someone who worries and tells you about how much they worry about the dangerous part of the job, well that can become aggravating. We have all done it and there are times that you can't just leave that call behind and go on about life.
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In 1731, colonial Manhattan was protected by volunteer firefighters.
My example might not be good but I think of it like going to work and speaking spanish all day long then coming home and trying to speak english. But you get home you speak spanglish and with an accent. Every time I try to explain something I always accidentally add something that I immediately realize they don't understand then I spend a minute backing up and trying to explain it, finally losing their interest and my patience which results in it being easier to just not tell them nothing at all.
But if you go to work and speak english and then come home and speak english, no prob. Run an MVA with extrication, working structure, and landed a helo. As far as the debrief part, it is awesome to run a bad one and have someone who 'gets it' to call or go to. They understand and they usually know how to say the right thing or when to just be quiet.
When you get back to regular life, I have a hard time changing languages.
A member of one of New York City’s earliest multi-generational firefighting families, the Stoutenburghs played a significant role in shaping Manhattan’s fire department, starting with the volunteer era.
Stoutenburgh’s father Tobias and his son Isaac also served; his brother-in-law was Jacobus Turck.
A long time ago, in a first aid squad far, far away, I sat in my very first EMT class, raptly listening to the instructor lecturing us on the finer points of patient assessment.
He told us that we would be having "hands-on" practice later, which elicited the usual ripple of snickers and comments about palpation and the necessary details of any thorough head-to-toe assessment.