Dearest Reader,
Life’s a relentless thing, isn’t it? A maze of unexpected turns, half-written chapters, and the kind of revelations that hit you like a freight train when you least expect them. Last June, my world cracked open, and what poured out wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t poetic or profound—it was raw, uncomfortable, and stripped me down to the bare bones of who I really was. But sometimes, that’s exactly what you need. Destruction breeds clarity.
In the middle of that storm, a question kept clawing its way to the surface: What the hell are you really meant to do? Not just the things you’re good at, not just the paths that are safe and familiar, but the fire that’s been burning inside you since you were a kid—the thing you can’t ignore no matter how hard you try. And for me, that fire has always been medicine. Not the sterile, white-coat, ivory-tower version of it, but the real stuff—the adrenaline-pounding, blood-on-your-hands, life-hangs-in-the-balance kind. The kind that breaks you down and rebuilds you in the same breath.
Maybe it started with those childhood fascinations: paramedics, ER docs, nurses running on fumes but still pushing forward. Or maybe it was the long stretch of nights watching people suffer and realizing that I couldn’t just stand there, powerless. Either way, I knew. And when you know, really know, you don’t turn back.
I spent years in IT and business—safe, comfortable, predictable. But comfort is a slow death. So I did what I had to do. Last September, I jumped headfirst into EMT training, ready to throw myself into the chaos of ambulance runs. And then, life, as it always does, had a different plan.
A door swung open where I didn’t expect one. Instead of the back of an ambulance, I found myself in the thick of an emergency room—an ER Tech at North Memorial, right in the heart of it. And for the past few months, I’ve been in it. Learning. Watching. Absorbing every moment, every lesson, every test of will and endurance. And I know, without a shred of doubt, that I’m right where I belong.
But this is just the beginning. The road ahead is long, brutal, and lined with obstacles that will try to break me, but I’ve already set the timeline. RN first. Then pre-med—biology, neuroscience, something that gets me closer to the heart of it. One step at a time.
It won’t be easy. Nothing worth it ever is. There will be long nights, impossible decisions, sacrifices that cut deep. But the trade-off? Purpose. The chance to make a real impact. To stand in the fire and not flinch.
This isn’t just a career change. It’s a reckoning. A return to something that’s been waiting for me all along.
And I’m ready.
Leave a Reply
Your email is safe with us.