By Olanna Buck, NREMT-P
With no second thought, I know what to do; my hands move quickly so your breath can move too.
It should be no surprise, after all this time; still it seems like my skills are of their own mind.
Even the ones I haven’t done in so long; even the ones they say won’t be strong.
Maybe my heart shouldn’t be so heavy; I know that already I’ve lost so many.
Maybe I know your name, I doubt you know mine; but your face will haunt me when I try to sleep tonight.
I know they our days are as numbered as the blooms; but it’s my job, my heart, to take care of you.
By the book, I know, we did all that we can.
In my head, I know, we did more than others might; None of this logic will help me sleep at night.
Other said I made them proud, I did my job so well; if I did so well, why do these moments feel like hell?
My job is to save those that can be saved; the decision to end a life is not one that I, but God made.
But it’s we that call time; we that stop the start; we that end revival; we that cease this part.
This part of time has come to an end; we close your eyes and tuck you in.
May your soul be somewhere away from the pain I could not stop; maybe this will only be the hope that I’ve got.
To ease my mind and stop my pain; maybe this thought will help me sleep again.
The Silent Struggle of a Rescuer
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About the author
Olanna Buck is a full-time paramedic and QA/QI coordinator. She holds her AAS in emergency medical services. She is a NAEMSE and Maine state instructor/coordinator, and assistant paramedic instructor.