By Wife of a Paramedic
Three years ago, my husband decided to take the next step to become a paramedic. He had been a basic for almost two years. He found a school that would fit into his schedule and signed up.
During this time, we had loads of stress. We bought a house, kid started school, and he was struggling to balance school, work, clinicals, and family. It was a combination that almost broke him. He was convinced that his ADHD was keeping him from being able to understand the cardiology module.
He decided to see a doctor to discuss his “ADHD” and hopefully get some meds to help him through school. When he got to the appointment, he told the doctor everything.
My husband’s father killed his youngest son and then himself when my husband was 19. And now, in his mid-30s, it came back to haunt him, along with a lifetime of other issues. The doctor diagnosed him with PTSD, gave him some Zoloft, and sent him on his way.
My husband wouldn’t take no for an answer, so the same day he sought out a psychiatrist with ADHD as a specialty. The appointment lasted about an hour. Afterwards, he came out with a final diagnosis of bipolar disorder.
The doctor was right. He pinpointed so many things that my husband called me up and said, “It’s bipolar.”
I said “OK.” He didn’t even get mad that I wasn’t shocked because he kind of knew it. Thank goodness he didn’t take that Zoloft, because it would have sent him on an upward spiral that he might not have come back from.
My husband took a medical leave from school. He took time to get a therapist, and began working with the psychiatrist. After a year, he returned to school.
I am proud to say he graduated in August, and passed his national exam in February. When he gets his patches at the end of the month, he will finally realize his dream of being a medic.
If you think you need help, you probably need a hand. Don’t be afraid to seek out help to make your life better. My husband’s family has a long, rich history of using suicide as a solution to problems, and I will be eternally grateful to him for seeking out the help he needed and accepting it. There is no shame in being selfish enough to help yourself. My husband is living proof that you can make it in this field and live a life worth living. I keep you all in my heart and hope that you find the strength and the courage to grab life by the horns and run with it.
