Silent Medic

How do I enter the medical field without going to college for the majority of my adult life? That was the question 16 year old me was constantly asking herself. I was not the academic type but I knew the direction my soul needed to go in. The commitment of medical school didn't feel right. Like a shirt where the hem stitching is off just enough to beg your attention throughout the day. Where do I start? How do I get my foot in the door? My brain landed on the Army National Guard. And the journey began.

They say the need to help people comes naturally to some. A gift. A quite yearning deep inside. I felt it in every fiber. Fascinated with the human body and how it worked and more interestingly how it didn't and how it can differ and how it is a self correcting organism. Look at me, I could babble for hours. I enlisted in the Army National Guard as a medic my senior year of high school. I was determined to help those who help this country, soldiers. Little did I know, they would be the ones to help guide me to healing my own soul. I don't have enough fingers and toes to count the instances where I have had a comrade touch my life in a way that makes you believe in magic.

Being in the medical field in any capacity you see people at their worst. From the terminally ill to the injured bodies to the mentally unstable and lost. To render help and care in a single breath or smile can make you feel as though you have the touch of an angel. Being able to pick someone up from a truly tragic situation is life changing in multiple ways. What most medical professionals don't see is how desperately they themselves could us a kind stranger.

Fast forward roughly 10 years. 10 years of serving in the military. A marriage. A deployment. A divorce. A solid, dark rock bottom. Yet, we pick ourselves up and carry on as we are trained to do. Staying busy by focusing on those truly in need, not like our silly minor issues. They tell themselves. But what happens when the sick no longer need you. When people turn to others for comfort. When there's a voice inside screaming at you to run and do something, anything.

The silent medic arrives. They see you but do not interfere in a way that will frighten you and drive you deeper into the black void that is now your home. They allow you to be guarded and distant. Waiting. Knowing the moment will come. It always does. It may take days, it may take weeks, heck it could be a short as a few hours. For me, my silent medic came in the form of a man who gave me an opportunity. It was a dull, mundane job tasked to sit at a rifle trailer everyday for three months while the team would participate in matches each day. We would drive for hours on end to the next shooting range in time for the competitions to begin the next day. That is when my silent medic granted me the most precious time.

They allowed me to fully feel what had happened. To reflect on the realities. To be open to heartache and love. My silent medic didn't come in the form of a health care worker. They gave did for me what my heart truly believes to be the most wonderous deed.

They listened.

It wasn't waiting for their turn to talk. It wasn't allowing me to ramble in hopes of getting it out and moving on. Heck, we were in a vehicle the majority of the time, they could have turned the radio on. It was active listening. It was asking the hard questions no one wants to acknowledge. It was laughing, crying, consoling and teaching. I will never forget those 3 months or the silent medic who blessed me with the precious gift of listening.