I have lived a full, meaningful life, defined by more than 25 years dedicated to Emergency Medical Services as both a profession and a calling. My path in public service was forged on a cold, quiet night on a deserted road at the site of a devastating car crash. Reaching through a shattered window, I held a young man’s head steady—his neck obviously broken—clinging to him while having no idea if I was helping or doing harm. He died in my hands right there. The crushing weight of feeling completely helpless stayed with me, becoming a silent, lifelong vow: I would never again stand by unprepared in a medical crisis.
Driven by that promise, I threw myself into public service. I earned my certification as an Emergency Medical Technician and eventually served as president of my local Medical Control Authority. Over two decades, I had the privilege of training more than 200 future lifesavers and school children in BLS and EMT care, even teaching young students how to apply life-saving tourniquets in an era where classroom violence has become an unthinkable reality. I served as Chief of Service for two EMS agencies, one being the largest group of licensed first responders in my state.
On the front lines, I experienced the full spectrum of human existence. I delivered newborn babies into the world, restored quiet heart rhythms beneath the warm, twinkling lights of a family’s Christmas tree, splinted shattered bones, and used my own hands to stem gushing bleeding. But the work also demanded a heavy physical price. I have been shot at, stabbed, choked, stepped on, puked on, yelled at, and shoved in the heat of chaotic calls. I have shared quiet tears and bear hugs with total strangers, letting them weep on my shoulder when their worlds fell apart. I have placed far too many patients into body bags and painstakingly collected human remains at accident scenes and suicides. Through every single shift, I made it my mission to treat every patient as if they were my own family—offering the highest quality of care to the living and the deceased alike, without judgment, prejudice, or favoritism.
Realizing that first responders bear heavy invisible wounds from witnessing constant trauma and destruction, I turned my attention to taking care of our own. I became a founding member and peer counselor for critical incident stress debriefing programs, establishing a safe space where caregivers could process trauma and heal. Looking back on every life saved, every hand held, and every life lost, one eternal truth guides me: life is precious to us all.
