Editor’s Note: Fire chief and paramedic Michael Roxbury writes poetry as a means to understand the stress he has experienced as a paramedic for more than two decades. Chief Roxbury’s hope is that others don’t ignore the warning signs of PTSD, as he did for far too long, and seek out help or resources they may need.
By Michael Roxbury
But it wouldn’t end that way
It started like most any day
A Monday it was, and late in May
The weather promised lots of sun
With not a care to mar the fun
But it wouldn’t end that way
This holiday weekend was nearly done
With one last day to have some fun
So to the river a small group went
To swim and play was their intent
But it wouldn’t end that way
I was home, doing who knows what
The grass I think, was needing cut
And that anchor I carried, in my hand
Was mostly silent as the channels scanned
But it wouldn’t end that way
The tones rang out, the silence shattered
My ears pricked up in case this mattered
And it was our call, so I had to go
Probably nothing and I hoped it so
But it wouldn’t end that way
A drowning call at the swimming hole
An icy finger stabbed my soul
I heard the chatter of my crew
And I hoped and prayed this wasn’t true
But it wouldn’t end that way
The sirens wailed as I headed out
With my brain still reeling and full of doubt
And two miles to go or thereabout
The freakin’ traffic makes me shout
Why don’t these idiots have a clue
That I have an important job to do
And they are causing me to go
A speed I know is way too slow
But I hope and hope and even pray
That speed won’t matter on this day
But it wouldn’t end that way
My crew and I we made our way
To the place where someone drowned they say
We beat a track thru heavy brush
And tried to move in such a rush
That it wasn’t long before we spied
A boy who stood and simply cried
And my heart just stopped within my chest
And instantly I was over-stressed
Because I knew that young boy’s face
And his look suggested we’d lost the race
“Is it your brother,” I want to know
His head shook no so very slow
While pointing down the river’s shore
Another hundred yards or more
And “Oh my God” this just can’t be
I don’t believe what I can see
A set of twins so much the same
To each I couldn’t put a name
But one alive and one a ghost
And I knew this day would be the most
Awful of my life
And yes, it would end that way
There he lay, in the shoreline mud
Deposited there by the springtime flood
And his brother sat close by his side
And rocked and rocked and cried and cried
I dove into my bag of tricks
Looking for that thing that would help me fix
The nightmare that this had become
Instead of a day of sun and fun
But it wouldn’t end that way
Crazy fast we head, into E.R.
Tubes and drugs and CPR
But the monitor is stuck on a flatline trace
And I’m getting it now, we lost this race
But he’s young and strong and very cold
So we keep it up until were told
That his temp has reached that magic spot
Where further efforts are all for naught
And his mom is here and I cannot fail
To note she sounds like the sirens wail
And just like that, it’s said and done
No more swimming, no more fun
And he’ll forever dwell in some other place
But we’re doomed to ever see his face
On the twin who still remains.
And yes, it would end that way
It’s been 10 long years, or nearly so
Since that day in May when I had to go
Take care of a boy who met his end
In a way this medic could not mend
But time I thought, would heal the rip
Into my soul this call let slip
But no, it wouldn’t end that way
About the Author
Michael Roxbury has served as the Fire Chief and Paramedic for the Umatilla Rural Fire Protection District since 1997. In his 18 years as Chief of District he has served as the only Paramedic for that population and has instructed many EMT students. With a career spanning over 25 years Chief Roxbury is intimately familiar with the challenges of rural EMS delivery with a volunteer force. He lives in Umatilla, Oregon with his girlfriend and has two adult children.