Ventilation

I was already told that this wasn’t a good idea, but only by those who don’t understand my need to vent.  As trusted advisers as they are, they don’t understand that if I don’t get to vent, I will become ill.

Twenty minutes ago, I saw a man die.  He was probably dead when we got there, but I’ll never know.  A taxi driver was shot in the back and crashed his car into a parked vehicle.  I didn’t know he was shot, but I did know he was probably dead the moment I saw his gaping mouth and open, calm eyes.  We carried him out of the car, and immediately began to administer CPR, to no avail.  EMS showed up and we helped them cart the man into their ambulance.  The taxi driver made that final sound of escaping air as we tried to save him.  His eyes never closed.  While giving him oxygen in between compressions, I couldn’t break away from his glare.  And all the while I thought about how disappointed and angry I was with the person who shot this man, who was only trying to do his shitty job on a late Tuesday night.

There was blood leaking from behind him as we performed CPR, but it wasn’t until someone mentioned hearing a shot from a gun, did we turn him over to see the wound.  Shortly after, he was pronounced dead.  While this is a situation to be expected to come across in my profession, I know that I’ll never grow accustomed to it.  I’ll never become jaded, but I won’t hold it in and turn to drink or whatever like a cliché.  I’ll use my little corner of this universe to vent, to breathe.

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