Scars

We all sustain injuries over a lifetime. Some are self inflicted, some just fall under the umbrella of living, some spring from unnecessary spats we have in the workplace, and some come from the choice we made to serve. Unfortunately for those PSCOs, military and first responders who have or are currently serving, they are exposed to injury on all the levels I have mentioned and more. Now, as unfortunate as this is for those warriors, it is equally fortunate for those whom they serve. The fact that these folks have chosen a life of service means that those whom they serve experience fewer of these injuries and traumas and when they do, they have these fine people standing in front of and beside them to pull them from the clutches of despair. This repeated, long term exposure to injury and trauma both directly and vicariously (a concept I’ll explore further later in this post) means that our warriors bear an incredible burden over the course and totality of their careers. One they are often ill equipped to deal with, that society as a whole understands poorly and that the various warrior professions have only recently begun to address.

Although I have no intention of spending my time and my sparse readership’s valuable time storytelling about my own experiences, I think the brief sharing of some of my experiences is worthwhile. I do not share these experiences to generate sympathy or pity. I share them so that PSCOs, first responders and military members can see and understand that others have walked their walk and I share them so anyone taking the time to read this who is not from one of these walks of life can catch a glimpse into some of the things that mold us.

In 1989, I was a young, energetic new officer who had just finished the police academy and was chomping at the bit to get the hell out of the classroom and into the field. That day came finally for me. Roll call was thrilling. I had been assigned the most driven tactically proficient field training sergeant that the agency had to offer. After roll call and inspection, I met with my field training officer (FTO) and we set about our pre-shift and phase briefing. Part way through our discussion, we heard a call go out in reference to a shooting not far from where we were. We responded to that call and took primary on the call. This was my first call of my first day in the FTO program. When we arrived on scene, we found two extended families grieving. They were crying, screaming, pushing on officers trying to access the crime scene and, in summary…inconsolable. As we made our way into the scene, it became apparent that a sixteen year old kid had accidentally shot and killed his seventeen year old best friend with a gun that one of them had found a few blocks away after school. One dead kid on floor of his bedroom resting in a pool of his blood that was seeping from his skull, another suffering from shock, grief, remorse and any other awful emotion you can think of and two families completely destroyed. My trainers and the others officers on the scene were compassionate and understanding, but there was not critical incident stress debrief or anything. We just did the job. Day one for me.

A couple of years later, I was part way through a midnight shift working on completing paperwork. I was sitting in the parking lot of a local toy store some half mile or less from a major intersection at the edge of my assigned zone. I was quietly listening to some country music on the patrol car stereo and chipping away at my paperwork. My zen state was rudely interrupted by an off duty officer working at a nearby bar excitedly reporting over the radio that he had seen an “explosion” at the major intersection. I threw my clipboard into my briefcase (yes, we had those things back then) slammed the car into drive and careened out onto the road pointing myself in the direction of the reported explosion. Seconds later, I crested the hill that had separated me from the intersection in question and was able to see my destination. Nothing in my background could possibly prepare me for what I was and was about to experience. The entire intersection (two major four lane roads) was on fire. The asphalt was burning. One car was fully involved and consumed with flame and another seemed to be oddly parked in the midst of the conflagration. I parked short, leapt from my car and grabbed my issued fire extinguisher. I extinguished a path for myself and inched my way closer to the fully involved car. When the heat became too much and my uniform began to succumb, I was forced to stop. From that vantage point through the torrent of fire I was able to see a body moving back and forth in the drivers seat amidst the inferno. At that moment I believed that I was helplessly standing by and watching a human being incinerated alive (days or weeks later the autopsy revealed that the man had died on impact and the movement I was seeing was from the intense heat moving his body). But the day kept getting better. Fire personnel arrived (I have never been so glad to see the guys on the big red trucks) and I turned my attention with other officers to the person from the other car. It turned out to be an off duty police officer who I worked with and in fact was the first officer from the agency I had ever ridden along with. He was polluted drunk, had been driving him in excess of 80 miles per hour and had slammed into this car instantly killing two brothers in law. I participated in the DUI investigation and had to notify him prior to blood collection at the hospital that he had killed two people. He tried to grab our guns to kill himself and we had to take appropriate steps to prevent that. Again, no CISD (this should in no way be considered a criticism of the agency, just a fact.) we just did our jobs the best we could.

These examples are just two of literally thousands of injuries sustained during an entire career. Some injuries resulted in surface scars, some resulted in scars that run much deeper. Some were vicarious, some direct. Some included the line of duty death of a friend and fellow officer, some included direct assaults and physical injuries sustained from a career that focused on protecting fellow citizens from those who would do them harm. Some were heartaches such as grieving with a family at the loss of an infant. Some were heartaches such as watching a human die and helping a fellow officer who was helpless to prevent the tragedy (a repeated occurrence) deal with that death. All caused injury. All leave scars. I am no different than any other first responder, member of the military or PSCO.

Before I go on, I want to briefly touch on the term vicarious trauma. A very wise person recently described this to me in a way that resonated so thoroughly that I think it is important to share. It goes like this: Imagine a pool as trauma. You walk to the edge of the pool but do not go in. You are just standing next to it. While you are standing there, person after person walks by you and cannonballs into the pool. As they do, you get splashed. After a few of them have done so, you are just as wet as they are. That, is vicarious trauma. Those of us in warrior professions have been soaked many times.

Well, if you made it this far, you have to be wondering if the rest of this blog is going to be as dark and depressing as the last few paragraphs. Fear not.

I want to pause here to speak to injury, trauma, and scars sustained by our warrior servants. These people are some of the toughest most compassionate servants you can possibly have the privilege to know. At least part of why it has taken so long for the various professions within this category to recognize that more needs to be done to care for their folks, is likely that based on the toughness and can do attitudes of these servants. Because of this, the full extent of the problems were not known for a very long time. Most of these folks interact daily with people not involved in the warrior professions and no one is the wiser.

So, if you are a warrior servant, what can you do to minimize scarring from the inevitable injuries? How can you prepare yourself for a fulfilling retirement where the scars don’t prevent you from enjoying what you have earned? And, finally what should you do if you recognize that you have been badly injured and need help? These questions are really at the heart of this blog and I intend to explore them more in future entries, but I’ll touch on some of them now.

In my experience one of the biggest hurdles to long term healthy living for warrior professionals is that the very kind of driven, problem solving “can do” people who we seek in these professions are also the types of people who are the least likely to acknowledge at the outset of their respective careers that they are vulnerable in any way to these injuries and scars and least likely to acknowledge the injuries when they happen. When you combine the naivety of youth with that and add a sprinkle of industry denial, it’s a great recipe for long term problems and decreased vitality in retirement. So, what is the most important thing for all first responders, PSCOs and military to be aware of concerning injury, trauma and scarring? Simply, that it can and is likely to happen to you. In other words, understand at the outset of your career and throughout your career that this is as real a hazard as bullets, cars, pathogens and knuckles. Give avoiding and mitigating these scars the same attention that you give the other, more obvious and less touchy feely (something we all likely loathe) hazards the same attention. If you sustain an injury, treat it. Develop healthy pastimes. Develop healthy support networks. Recognize unhealthy life habits. Get treatment if the injury is severe or persists.

Everyone deserves a healthy, vital retirement. Warrior servants are no exception. Acknowledging that these honorable careers come with hazards and risks that are likely to expose you to injury, trauma and scarring is the first step. No one wants to live with that gruesome threesome in the first place, and no one should have to drag them over the finish line of your career and into retirement.

Stay safe my friends and many thanks to all who continue to serve.