Times I've Felt Alive

In a world where having free time is viewed as laziness, immediately jumping from one task to the next is expected, and failing to do everything is often viewed as doing nothing, it is far too easy to get caught up in the busyness and stress of day to day life. We constantly feel pressured to take on as much as possible in order to stand out amongst our peers, leading to life becoming a fuzzy drag of events from one day to the next. We lose sight of the fact that life our life isn’t about everyone else – it’s not about following your parents’ expectations, embarking on a dictated career path, or being viewed as better than those around you. Life is about finding what makes you happy and chasing that passion; it’s about embracing that feeling of pride when you accomplish the goals that you’ve set for yourself; it’s about bringing the change you want to see in the world. Life isn’t about working yourself to death, it’s about pursing what makes you feel alive.

Throughout the trials, errors, and adversities I’ve faced in the short 18 years I’ve been alive, I’ve discovered things that I feel I could do for the rest of my life, and things that make the sound of nails on a chalkboard seem like a violin. One of the things I’ve realized gives me a sense of fulfilment and energy is serving others. I’ve learned that being a part of something bigger than myself gives me a feeling of pride and dignity, and if I were to pass after leading a life oriented around helping others, I would be happy with the mark I left on the world.

One specific time that comes to mind is when I was working as an EMT. It started off like any other day on the job: we’d get to the squad building bright and early, enjoy breakfast, make some groggy small talk, and then go about our various ways of passing the time. Our days we’re usually pretty slow; despite receiving about 3300 emergency calls each year, I always managed to work the days where bad luck decided to take a rest. I would never wish misfortune upon anyone, but EMTs have a saying for our desire to be out in the field: “I don’t wish for bad things to happen, but when they inevitably do, I hope I’m around.”

Then the alarm goes off. What the call got dispatched as over the radio I’m not sure; I’m convinced being able to actually understand the thing is a whole additional class, because it always just sounds like mumbly static to me. We grab our wallets and phones and get into the ambulance. Jim, one of the more senior EMTs on the shift, fires up the engine, and we head off lights flashing and sirens blaring.

This is the first part where I feel alive. As a bit of an adrenaline junkie, action and adventure are just about my favorite things. One of my favorite things about running shifts is that when the alarm goes off, you never know what you’re going to get. You could get dispatched for a broken foot that ends up being a dislocated toe, or a medical emergency that ends up being a stroke or heart attack. The high-speed ride out to the scene is filled with suspense, all building up to the grand revelation when you arrive.

We pull up and are immediately guided towards the backyard. There’s a large stretch of wooden fence that’s been knocked down with only a single post remaining between our injured patient and a several ton wood chipper that looks precariously close to falling all the way over. We rush over to find a man in less than optimal condition – his pants and shirt are ripped, there’s blood on several parts of his clothing, and he’s breathing very rapidly. Instinct and training kicks in and we get to work. Cut off the clothing. Scan for severe injuries. Monitor vitals. Determine patient priority. The steps run through my head like clockwork.

This is the second part where I feel alive. When you’re treating a patient in a serious condition, you get caught up in the moment and nothing else matters. Not where you placed your shears, not if you’re tearing your clothes, and not if a colossal wood chipper could collapse on you at any moment. In that moment, your only concern is the person lying injured in front of you, requiring your help because they’re in a position where they cannot help themselves.

We quickly treat our victim’s critical injuries and get him loaded into the ambulance. One of the paramedics hops into the back with us and we’re off to the races, aka the closest trauma center. The hustle and bustle quells slightly en route, but the number of things that need to be done only goes up. IVs need to be put in, an oxygen mask needs to be put on, and as long as he’s in a serious state, we’re going to be looking at his vital signs every five minutes. Luckily, our friend’s condition begins to improve. His breathing begins to return to a normal pace, we treat the gashes and lacerations, and he’s able to fully recount the events that unfolded. Perfect. As we pull around to the ER entrance, I get ready to unload the stretcher. The wheels drop, we head inside, and after a brief “hope you feel better,” we’re walking back out to the ambulance to return to the station.

Those final moments, when you’re wishing your patient well and returning to the rig, are the part where I feel the most alive. Not all calls always end well like this one did, but regardless of the outcome, the first few minutes afterwards are always very grounding. It gives you a new appreciation for human life and your own well-being; it reminds you that every day is not guaranteed, and that you need to take advantage of the time and opportunities available while you have them. Most importantly, it gives you a feeling of fulfillment knowing that you just helped someone when they could not help themselves; that when that person’s world was suddenly turned upside down, you were able to help them back up and reassure them that they were going to make it.

Looking back through these three separate times that I feel alive, it’s hard to find direct similarities between them. Each time is a separate situation involving a separate feeling and emotion. However, when I step back and take a look at the bigger picture, I notice that they do all have something in common: each one offers me a direct opportunity to make an important difference. On the way to the scene, I can refresh my memory for the procedures of the situation we were dispatched for. During initial treatment, I can administer first aid that can truly change someone’s life. And as we’re leaving the hospital, I have the opportunity to leave our patient with a positive wish and then reflect on what I think went well and what can be improved. Each situation presents me with the opportunity to make a difference that can change someone’s life for the better, and that is why I believe they make me feel alive.