What First Responders Want You To Know About Covid-19 (I Think)
I’m not a first responder, but I’m married to one. In a way, that makes me a first responder to a first responder. While he responds to your emergencies, I’m the one who is waiting at home to help him celebrate the good calls, process the bad calls, and keep everything in perspective so he can go to work again the next day.
My husband is the type of paramedic that you really hope shows up when your dad has a heart attack or your toddler wakes up covered in hives.
He is patient, confident, and always has warm hands. He is funny — but not too funny — and can get people to talk about things like what kind of drugs they’ve taken or where the bruises on their chest came from. He is meticulous about medications and can convince even the most crotchety old folks to go to the hospital when their blood pressure is too high.
It sounds cliche, but it takes a special kind of person to be a first responder. I’m not sure if it’s emotional fortitude or fortress-like boundaries, but when Jared comes home from a shift, he scoops up our kids, plays with our dog, kisses me, and pitches in to mow the lawn or cook dinner. Later, over a glass of wine, I’ll learn that his day included a teenage suicide, a couple of heroin overdoses, and a car accident.
