Any first responder, whether a cop, a firefighter, an EMT, or a paramedic, will tell you they've witnessed horrors while on the job. When responding to emergencies, one must be prepared to cope with gruesome scenes, both in the moment and at home.
It's safe to say that what these brave men and women see on their shifts is not forgotten once they come home to their friends and loved ones.
Jenny Ralph is one of these incredible individuals who dedicates her life to others on a daily basis. However, after 22 years as a paramedic, she's finally revealing what many in her position are afraid to admit: after seeing it all, she suffers from PTSD — a silent and invisible workplace injury. She wrote about it in an emotional post about her job. Though she admits this about herself, she also vows to be strong, and refuses to feel the shame many people with the illness experience.
She wrote:
Well, here goes nothing…
I have a workplace injury. Turns out that 22 years of working long hours of shift work and bearing the heavy weight of human suffering can hurt a person.
On the outside, I don’t walk with a limp and I don’t wince in pain clutching my back when I bend over to pick something up off the floor. I don’t have aching joints or broken bones. When we talk, I’ll smile, I’ll even laugh. I’m an excellent listener. You can look long and hard into my eyes, but you won’t see where I’m hurt.
For 22 years, I have made a choice to protect the ones I love in my life from what my eyes have seen. I have buried the screams, pushed aside the tears, and tried to erase the terrifying images.
I’ve taken the long way home so I don’t have to drive past the places where I’ve seen bad things happen. I’ve laid flowers on the road where I watched people die. I’ve held many children and hugged a lot of parents through their grief. My hands have helped to bring newborns into this world, and have also been the last touch a person feels when they take their final breath. As a human, I too, have suffered. In silence.
I didn’t hurt myself on one single call. I hurt myself on 22 years of calls. The emotions I thought I had been able to bury, erase, push aside, and deny for my entire career have decided it’s time.
It’s time to grieve. It’s time to talk. It’s time to be honest. It’s time to stop judging myself. It’s time to no longer be afraid. Its time to no longer feel broken or ashamed. It’s time for me to accept that those 4 letters I struggle to say out loud define my injury, they do not define me.
I have PTSD but like any other injury, I will heal. I will recover.
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