There aren't a ton of things that give me peace in this world. The ocean, yes indeed, the ocean. I used to go down the shore when I lived in New Jersey, not during tourist season but in the fall or winter. I would bring my journal and just write to the music of the waves. I let my long, thick hair loose for the wind to take. The feeling of having my hair blowing this way and that was like magic. I couldn't control how it blew. I didn't care about the tangled mess that would come, I just let the wind weave in and out, back and forth while I wrote my deepest secrets to myself. This was wind making love to me in that special way that only it could. I sure do miss that.
While working as an EMT my partner and I were sent to a car rental place across from Newark Airport. This was the farthest part of our coverage area. When we got there we found a man who was 6'4" and a good 230 lbs. He was dangerously close to the highway at rush hour. We knew that there was no way were going to be able to handle this guy by ourselves so we tried to call for backup. The air traffic was really heavy, we didn't have repeaters on our radios so we kept getting stepped on when we tried to get help. We knew we had to get him away from the highway so we approached him slowly. I said, " Excuse me Sir you need to come away from there. You could get badly hurt and we might cause a car accident." Well, he didn't seem to like that idea so he started chasing me around the parking area. I managed to get around him a couple of times but honestly. I'm only 4'11' so one of his strides was at least six of mine. He cornered me against a wall, the parking lot was kind of shaped like a U." I was trying to duck under him but then he threw a punch at my head. I put my hand up to shield my face. My fingers were splayed open. He took the opportunity to grab my hand interlocking my his fingers into mine. He then yanked me up off the ground and immediately separating my right shoulder. He then extended his arm up as high as he could which left me dangling on my tip toes sort of twisting back and forth. It hurt like living hell but I didn't make a sound. I was afraid to scream out because I didn't know what he would do. He didn't speak to me, not once. It took a while for help to arrive so I stroked his stomach with my free hand telling him help was coming. My partner was great. He kept talking to me to keep me calm. We talked about the jackass who was taping this entire event instead of calling 911. We talked to his co-workers and asked them to call 911. I think they were all just to scared to move. They did however give us some further information which might have been useful before this started. They told us that his name was Windell, he worked there, but when he went on a break he went into the bathroom and came out with white powder on his face under his nose. We found out a couple of days later that he had snorted cocaine and Haldol , two drugs that can cause hallucinations, violence and other things. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream but I just couldn't. My partner, Bob , was awesome. He didn't want to leave me to get to our ambulance and kept trying and trying to get help on the air. When he finally did his focus was 100% on me. He even made me laugh a bit. He listened to me when I told him what I wanted done at my funeral. I told him that no one should bring red roses because my Mom hated them because Dad had given them to her during a tough time in their relationship. I also asked him to have someone play the song , " Lady" STYX version for her and the song " Wild Horses, for my sister Liz. I also asked that the song " The Flame" be played for my Dad even though he wouldn't be there. He had died in 1991 but I still wanted him to be at my funeral and this was the song he said reminded him of me. Bob just listened. He didn't try to tell me that I was going to be alright because we both knew that might not be the case. We both knew that at any moment he could snap my neck. I just kept stroking his stomach. That powder blue T-shirt will never leave my mind.
Hi, I'm Teresa. I'm 56 yrs old now but when I was in my 20's and 30's I was an EMT ( Emergency Medical Technician not Elevator Maintenance Technician). I started out pretty late at the age of 26. It took me a long time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I was in retail for years, an office manager for a Home Health Company and I cleaned houses for a bit. I was struggling with depression for quite a while and working these jobs didn't help. I had always had an obsession with helping people, trying to make the world a better place. I had friends in High School who were volunteers on our township First Aid and Rescue Squad. I was really interested in doing this but I was told I was to sensitive to do that kind of work and it would destroy me. I believed that for several years but when I saw an advertisement in our local paper that the North Brunswick First Aid and Rescue Squad was in need of volunteers I answered the ad and was on my way to finally doing something that I loved for 12 years.