"E.M.T."

~Intro~

Fresh out of an 8-Year contract Medical School, the biggest in the state.

Most aspiring Doctors/Nurses strive through their college years wanting to find a cure for Cancer, Alzheimer's, or just the plain flu and common cold.

Not me.

Yes, don't get me wrong. All of those things are great things to strive and care for. But I wanted to be different from everyone else.

My Mother, growing up, was labeled as Mentally Ill by all of our neighbors. She heard Voices.

Rosie Everlee was a great Mother despite the random, unexpected, bursts of emotions she went through almost daily. And most of it was anger. Besides the furniture, and cook wear, I was the only, and Favorite thing to lash that anger out on.

Growing up I learned to adapt, but I never understood. I delt with, but I never got used to my Mother and her Diagnosis.

Her 'voices' and eruptions of anger lead her to be diagnosed Schizophrenic by the time I was 8. How her psych evaluation came under way was on my 8th Birthday.

My Mother, and aunt, three uncles, and my grandparents were at my house, throwing me a party. I kept telling them, "Whatever you do. Don't give my Mother the matches to light my candles. One of you light them. Please."

Now, like a good family, my grandparents especially, refused to believe that there was anything wrong with my Mother. Even though they really knew it themselves.

I had established the rule:

"Mother is sick of fire. Therefore DO NOT give it to her in ANY way, shape or form.

That rule was ignored on my fateful 8th Birthday. For sure.

My Mother was handed the box of matches. She lit one. Mt. Vesuvius re-occurred. My Mother let out this blood curdling scream that has yet to leave my memory to this day. She dropped the entire box of matches, throwing herself around the room yelling cuss words I hadn't even heard of like she was trapped in a box of tornadoes.

The house went up in flames that day.

Thanks to my uncles, we all made it out in time.

A matter of minutes the Fire Department, Police, Paramedics, and the Noisiest of nosy neighbors showed up.

Normally a kid my age would be absolutely fascinated by a Fire Fighter taming the flame. Me. I was enthralled in watching every little detail of what the Paramedics were doing. They checked me out first thing for Smoke Inhalation of my lungs. They routinely checked my pulse and blood pressure. And had me hold an oxygen mask over my mouth, and use that to breathe for a few minutes.

One of the Police officers had me explain to him what had happened leading up to the flame demolition of my childhood home. That, was when the 'Crazy Hospital' was called.

Never in my lie had I seen my Mother so out of her bloody mind. The two Paramedics stood in front of me. Protecting me from my thrashing Mother when the White scrubbed nurses came to take her away the very same day the were telephoned. She screamed at me. Saying I was the reason they were taking her to the Mental Hospital. I was upset. But I knew I couldn't blame her for what she was saying. It was her Schizophrenia.

The last time I saw her, The Scrubs were wrapping her up in a straight jacket and shackling her to a gurney with cuffs.

I lived with my grandparents up until I was 18, then it was Medical School time by that age, so I moved out. After seeing my Mother in that straight jacket, and screaming her lungs out, the woman of the two Paramedics gave me this advice:

"Don't hate the illness. Just help cure it." -And that is the motto I live by every day of my life since.

8 years of Medical School, being one of the 12 person class majoring in Mental Illness. I was the only guy at that. Woo.

Now my schooling is over at the age of 25. I got my diploma and my plague. A.k.a. a plague, being a nice wood square with my title on it, saying I did this and this. In doing so, achieved this. So I can work in this field.

In my opinion, I don't need the plague. I think it's a waste of money. I know what I did. I know what i'm going to do. I don't need at fancy piece of wall candy to tell me so.

Today, of all days, is my first day on the job at St. Airies Hospital.

I'm officially a Doctor. The newbie Doctor.

I was told to expect different from this hospital. So that's what I walked in thinking I was going to get. But instead, I got abnormally different every direction I turned.

I t wasn't until I got a call when I was half way back to my apartment after my very first shift. That my day turned to something else.

When I met Dylan Summers.

She was something else.