On July 8, 2013, my husband of three years passed away from cancer—a diagnosis we didn’t even know he had. Even a year later, I still didn’t fully understand what had happened. One day he was there, and the next he wasn’t. I was left to care for our six-year-old son, who looked just like him.
I decided to pursue EMT training, hoping it might help me make sense of what had happened or give me some understanding of life and death. I had never been afraid of another person in my life—until I met my instructor, who still intimidates me to this day.
When I finally completed the program, I had passed, just barely, but I had passed. I figured the next step was to take the NREMT exam, just to see what would happen—and I passed that as well. I had to call my instructor, and she had to explain to me that I had indeed passed and was officially an EMT.
Once I started the job, I enjoyed it, and here I am 14 years later, still doing the same work. Now, both my son and my niece are EMTs as well. Funny how life’s unexpected turns can shape us—and our families—in ways we never imagined.