Radical Change: Blood, Bacon, and Cheeto Dust

Over the past few years I have made it very public amongst my friends and family that I have undergone drastic change. Careers have changed, my weight has changed (110lbs lost), my relationships changed, and my whole outward persona has changed. I always hated the negative connotation of the phrase “you’ve changed,” as sometimes change can be a great thing. Sure, we use this phrase often as the result of heart break (which I have certainty pulled this card during quarrels) because we sometimes see change of another as something that threatens the balance of our own selfish needs.

I say selfish not in a bad way either. I don’t think there is anything really wrong about being selfish, but there must exist a balance between altruism and taking care of your own needs. I am a very selfless person by default. I once said that I have an abundance of happiness and I just wanted to share it with someone; that someone is gone now so I share it with the world. But that topic is for a different blog, this one is focused on why I made the changes I had to make.

Most people ask me what propelled me to make such drastic change and switch up my life. I had the safety and security of a well established life, why shake things up? Like many folks, I made change due to a series of several events that I witnessed.

I love a good ol’ near death experience in the morning; keeps me more awake than all the Red Bulls and coffee in the world!

For me it was multiple traumas. Psychologists widely agree on the concept of “Big T” and “Little T” traumas. The “Big T” traumas are the ones that are extraordinary events that leave one feeling helpless. These are the natural disasters, homicides, sexual assaults, terrorist attacks, plane/car accidents, watching someone die, etc. These are less common but very easy to spot; this is what we think of as the pre-cursor to PTSD. It’s easy to draw a line between one’s mental state the events like these.

“Little T’s” on the other hand are a lot harder to identify and their cumulative affect creates an entirely different issue. These are the divorces, break ups, interpersonal conflicts, the rejections, financial hardships, separation, etc. Dr. Elyssa Barbash states that Little (or “Small”) T traumas: “tend to be overlooked by the individual who has experienced the difficulty. This is sometimes due to the tendency to rationalize the experience as common and therefore cognitively shame oneself for any reaction that could be construed as an over-reaction or being ‘dramatic” (Barbash, 2017). Think of it as a snowball rolling down a hill. Yes, it may seem trivial to us that Kevin lost his cat Mittens 3 years ago in an unfortunate lawn mowing incident, but we don’t know that Kevin has also has a jerk off boss and broke up with his girlfriend. So what if he didn’t watch a ten car pileup on 405 freeway… his traumas are just as valid and that feeling of helplessness build over time.

For me, I guess it was a mixture of both. I think I had several Little T’s that were kicked off by one Big T. These Little T’s were all related to witnessing a lot of people at their worst days of their lives. There are, of course, other traumas from my past (sexual abuse, bullying, etc.) that are part of the composition of my core being but I can tell you that, although those were terrible, they have no relation as to why I made drastic change. Those traumas are (as I am growing found of saying) “for a different blog.”

November 2013

I was feeling down in the dumps. I wasn’t happy where I was with work and I didn’t know what I wanted to be. I just new that I felt like a failure. I was making less than $20 bucks an hour, WITH a college degree, checking fire extinguishers. I was only half using my bachelors degree in Public Health, and was no longer using my EMT license for anything besides lacerations or face plants or resin-induced skin rashes at work. I wasn’t sure what the hell I wanted to be anymore.

I ditched work that afternoon to go to town and run errands. As I drove back home, the red of tail lights snapped me out of my daze. As I looked forward I could see a car stopped in the middle of the road, with a lifeless body lying just feet in front of it, bathed headlights. “Oh fuck! I have nothing with me!” I thought as I drove over to the side of the road and tried to figure out how I could even begin to render aid without the security blanket of my trauma bag. I checked my surroundings before approaching the scene and met a guy who was a nurse, who had already started CPR. He was a homeless man, probably in his 40’s-50’s. He had multiple open fractures… I remember staring at his tibia/fibula (his lower leg bones) as they jutted out sharply from the middle of his leg. We barely moved him as to minimize any further damage to his spine, but any movement we did have to make was met with the feeling of crepitus. We did the only thing we really could do: control bleeding, try to establish a heart rate, and try to keep his airway open. Without tools, there really isn’t anything else you can really do.

Soon fire and EMS got on scene and we field stripped him and back-boarded him. During this time I felt his pulse in my finger tip, as I maintained his head. It was the most surreal experience of my life. Traumatic cardiac arrest in a pre-hospital setting (which… I mean what other setting are you going to experience that in, not like you’re going to get hit by a car when getting a colonoscopy) has a very abysmal survival rate due to the mechanisms of injury that cause the cardiac arrest.

There are probably several scientific reasons as to why he suddenly had a pulse, or “Return of Spontaneous Circulation.” That’s not the point. The point is I saw a dead man get his pulse back and made me very aware of how fragile life is as I stood in the middle of this road covered in blood, bacon, and cheeto dust (it’s what he had in his backpack that exploded everywhere on impact).

When I taught first aid to my students and when I was a skills instructor for baby EMT’s I reminded them that unexpected traumas are the great equalizer. Doesn’t matter if you’re a layperson or a doctor… unless you have a bag full of tools we’re all doing CPR the same.

I cried to my boss, Charlie, the next day. It was just a rollercoaster of emotions, and I knew I wasn’t happy where I was. I knew that I wanted more out of life and that I was very aware that my clock was ticking.

For a long time when I’d drive through town I’d look for him. Truth is, he probably died in the hospital due to the severity of his injuries. At least I know that if he did die, he was surrounded by a group of strangers who cared about him like he was an equal, and not a homeless man. I rest my hat on that at the end of the day.

In 2016, I would do the same thing for a man in the Tehachapi Gran Fondo, where he collapsed of cardiac arrest right in front of me. His name is Jim. He collapsed right in front of me, and I rolled him over and immediately began CPR. Once an AED arrived on scene, we shocked him and he came back in the middle of the street. I met him the following year and he told me that he saw an angel at his head, and another at his chest. That was the last day I fought the Grim Reaper and won. Later on, I ran into my SAR Captain who told me that the man I saved was his good friend. He shook my hand and said “Thank you, for saving my friend.” When life makes me feel like an absolute loser, I remember that moment.

Winter of 2013, I reconnected with a guy named Allen whom I did all of my EMT refreshers with. He was part of Search and Rescue in the local area, and I knew that I needed to do something to fill the void I felt at work. I joined Kern County Sheriff Search and Rescue and stayed with them for years until I moved to Camarillo. I also jumped on Ski Patrol to get some extra time in helping people.

The decade I was an EMT I saw a lot of traumas, more so than medicals (not a lot of diabetics getting lost on their dirt bikes these days, although it’s always possible!). During that time I saw people smash their faces, nearly amputate their limbs, become paralyzed, and yes… even die. But there is one case that haunted me for many years.

I warn you, the next few paragraphs are not for the faint of heart. I will not get into great detail as it is very distressing for those who were a part of it too.

My very second mission for Search and Rescue (after I had become a fully minted member) was that of my own co-worker in a very public setting. I’m almost afraid to write all the details here, because I don’t want others who were closer to him to be triggered by my experiences. I also would never want the details to get back to his family so they could relive the horror they experienced. As I stated in my previous blog post, sometimes knowing causes significantly more pain.

I was part of a group of folks sent out to recover the accident scene; I had a special role based on my medical experience and knowledge. I’ll never forget standing in the middle of the road, looking at the debris around me and having my breath being taken away by what I saw and what I was about to do. I paused, and the lead of the area asked me if I was good; I collected myself and squeezed his hand assuring him I could press forward. Like the light switch I used so often as an EMT to turn off feelings for terrible things, I did the same there. I flipped the switch as there was a job to do.

The details of that I keep very private. I felt a mix of honor, disbelief, and anger at what we had to do; honor because we treated it with the dignity he and his family deserved, disbelief because I couldn’t comprehend the physics of it all, and anger because I hated the media presence every day. I was also disgusted that his coworkers had to be exposed to all of this but I think all of us (whichever part we played, whether it be the investigation or recovery) felt a sense of duty to do the job.

I remember carrying some of this precious cargo to hand over to the local deputy. I kept it close to my body, like I was holding a folded American flag. I did this for two more days until Dr. Blue (real name!) told us all that we should stop, as none of the work would bring the family any more closure than we had already provided and or any answers that the investigators didn’t already know.

It was at that site that I eventually met someone who was one of the biggest influences of my whole adult life: her name was Joy. It sounds shitty, but this case is the reason why I’m in the job that I’m in, because that was an experience you just can’t teach in school. Truthfully, I don’t really think about it much these days, unless I stop and remember what got me here today. I remember it because it’s what made me who I am. I remember it because it was when every ounce of innocence I ever had died. I remember staring at his kids at both his memorials and seeing all of their innocence die too. I questioned whether or not any of this was actually worth it in the end.

That day I became very aware of my own mortality. I became aware that we are only promised today. One day at a time is the only thing any of us have. That thought keeps me up at night, especially for an agnostic who is no longer sure if there is an afterlife. From there on out I decided I wanted a lot more out of life than what I had made of it. I got my pilots license, continued on into the mission we started, learned to ride dirt bikes, and traveled the country.

Some may argue that I’m chasing arousal, as these states are addictive and sometimes can lead to us recreating a situation that we can control. I can assure you it’s not the case (my therapist friends on here are currently crafting their rebuttal to my blog post as we speak lol).

Sometimes I drive by the site just to remember where I was born; where my second life started. The desert, much like our hearts and minds, has started to heal over time making it almost impossible to find the scene… but I know where it is. Bushes and erosion can’t hide that connection from me. Every once in a while I’ll stop and find more debris, as the earth rejects these foreign bodies to the surface. I collect them, and bury them again into the hollowed grounds.
”Humans are organic. We are meant to die. It's natural. Beautiful. And it all breaks down, and rises back up, and breaks down again. And every living thing grows out of every dying thing. We leave more life behind us to take our place... Like this moonflower. That's where all its beauty lies, you know, in the mortality of the thing.” (The Haunting of Bly Manor).

Let this be the more life I leave behind… let this be my legacy. Let me be your Moonflower.