What Happened To Me

 In the blink of an eye, a single call transformed my life forever. After 34 years of service as a paramedic, firefighter, and member of the Air Force, I experienced a mental break during a particularly harrowing ambulance call. This incident didn’t just crack the surface; it shattered the dam, releasing a torrent of memories spanning decades—memories of sights, sounds, and experiences the human brain was never meant to endure. This was the onset of acute PTSD.

PTSD is not just a collection of symptoms; it is a relentless beast that consumes every aspect of your being. I’ve encountered anxiety that paralyzes, panic attacks that make my heart race

uncontrollably, and a terror so profound that it feels like I’m drowning in my own mind. Depression has become a constant shadow, sapping my will to engage with the world. My memory, once sharp and reliable, now fails me. Concentration and focus, essential tools of my trade, have disintegrated.

When a panic attack strikes, it’s not just a mental battle. My muscles contract involuntarily, as if every fiber of my being is bracing for impact. The pain is real and acute, shooting through my body like a series of electric shocks. My chest tightens, making each breath a laborious task. It feels as if an unseen force is squeezing the life out of me, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot control my own body. My hands shake, my legs go weak, and I am left gasping for air, desperately trying to regain control. The physical pain is as debilitating as the mental anguish, leaving me exhausted and drained.

Therapy has brought some improvements, but progress is painstakingly slow. My inability to recover swiftly led to my termination from the ambulance service. Losing my career was a blow, but losing my identity was devastating. For over three decades, my life revolved around lights and sirens. Now, that part of my life is over. Thirty-four years of training, learning, and schooling now seem meaningless. It feels like my entire existence has been for nothing. I am left questioning my worth, my purpose, and my very being.

I trusted my decisions implicitly in my career, but now I doubt every choice I make. The sense of failure is overwhelming. The loss of my career and retirement feels like the final nail in the coffin of my old life. I miss the camaraderie, the sense of purpose, the adrenaline. But I cannot risk another breakdown. The fear of a repeat experience looms large.

Financially, I am adrift. Bills pile up, and I struggle to buy food. Doctors have deemed me unfit to work, at least for now. They hold out hope that the radical treatment program I’m undergoing will eventually allow me to find employment again. But for now, it’s a waiting game—a wait filled with prayer and uncertainty.

PTSD is not just a condition; it is a destroyer of lives. It invades your thoughts, erodes your confidence, and isolates you from everything you once held dear. It’s a silent tormentor that few understand until they’ve faced it themselves.

 

The physical toll is as devastating as the mental, creating a cycle of pain and fear that feels inescapable. I hope my story sheds light on the true horrors of PTSD and the profound impact it has on those who suffer from it. If you see someone struggling, offer them your understanding and support. It might just save a life.