Tuesday, April 6, 2010

One Last Thing

So, when I was talking with the dispatcher on Saturday, she was great. She told me exactly what to do and she kept telling me to be calm. She gave me directions like to collect the pills and bottles, to keep my eye on the baby, to just keep talking to her.

When daddy arrived home, he started giving me directions as well. I was so uptight and I couldn't understand why he was talking to me while I was trying to listen to the dispatcher. They were essentially telling me the same thing. And I was trying to listen to both at the same time. And I was getting increasingly more agitated. I finally asked daddy to take EG outside and wait for the ambulance. All the while the dispatcher was telling me to just hold on, the ambulance was almost there. The minute the ambulance arrived, I thanked her and hung the phone.

Later, at the hospital, I mentioned to daddy how difficult it was for me, earlier, to listen to the dispatcher and to him at the same time. And I asked him why, at the house, he kept telling me what to do and trying to talk with me while I was on the phone with her. This is what he proceeded to tell me, he basically said:

"When I arrive on scene, I am in charge. If it had been some other mother, I would have taken the phone away from her and told her 'You are to listen to me now.'" And that was what he was doing when he got home on Saturday, he was taking charge of the scene, as a first responder.

As the conversation continued, I explained to him that when he arrived home, before the ambulance, I did not see him as a "first responder," the man in charge. I saw him as my husband, EG's daddy. His polyester green uniform, badge and gun signified nothing to me. Am I making sense?

Because he does this type of thing all day long, he just did what he does. It never occurred to me, he was doing his job. Even though it was his family, he still knew what to do and what the "procedures" were and what happens next, etc., etc. I, on the other hand, was looking to the dispatcher to tell me what to do. Because the deputy on scene was my husband, just my husband (well, not just my husband, but you know what I mean.)

Anyway, I chuckle about it now. About how I see my hubby, what he does for a living, how kind of comical it was (after the fact, of course.) As I said to my hubby, the paramedic and the ER nurse, "I don't know how you all do it?" I made sure to thank each and everyone of the first responders. What thankless, hard jobs they do, everyday . . .

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