Hiatus

My my, we've come a long way. I'm actually pretty surprised we've made it this far, and I want to thank my readership for sticking with me and checking in now and again. Unfortunately, with finals season upon us, I'm going to have to take a little bit of a hiatus to help my significant other with her studies. When I have free time, I'll continue to work on the blog, and we'll be resuming regularly scheduled content by 5/16/14, so be sure to check back in by then. As I head into the break, I'd like to take this opportunity to step outside of my typical bounds and share some thoughts; no evidence, no citations.

Working as a Paramedic, I, along with my co-workers, see people living at the very extremes of life. A common day for us involves several worst days of other people's entire lives, be it simply due to back pain, or due to a stroke permanently disabling a loved one in one swift, unpredictable moment of terror. I'm getting very near to my four year anniversary working in this field, and I feel that's long enough to be able to share some thoughts and observations on the field.

The list of observations could, if allowed, occupy several posts, elaborating on various phenomena such as the observation that it's only ever the bad guys that want a hug after something goes down. I could speak about all the people that imagine our jobs as being as bloody and violent as a frontline deployment (really, it's best described as hours or boredom peppered with moments of sheer, unadultered terror), the people who ask me if I've ever seen people die, or simply assume that I see it on a daily basis. Today, we're only going to focus on one, the one that I, personally, find the scariest- silence.

A lot of people imagine our scariest scenes being those that are filled with flames, screaming, and blood. The truth is that, in general terms, if you're healthy enough to be screaming and writhing in pain, you'll live to see the hospital. Really, there's a profound terror that can be found in walking into a scene that should be loud, people should be screaming at you, but they're silent. Imagine, if you will, a little old lady gasping for air, and making no sound; a child hit by a truck, not screaming, but moaning; a middle aged man, complaining of chest pain earlier, now silent and slumped forward on the couch; approaching a middle aged woman involved in a car crash who's silent and not moving. These are all just tastes of the kind of terror that silence can bring in the prehospital field.

Sometimes, it's not the presence of something that serves to terrify, sometimes it's the absence. On that note, we'll see you back here on 5/16. Feel free to leave questions, comments, and concerns here, I'll be happy to read them.