The last thing I Remember…

The last thing I remembered, was the chaos on the news, they said that it was “invisible,” and it would would not be, too bad. Some even likened it to the “Flu,” but I would soon find out, that those words spoken erroneously, would cause many to falter, and some never to breathe again. The last thing I remembered, was lacing up my search and rescue boots, donning my navy-blue uniform, and making sure my EMS equipment and vehicle, was ready for the night ahead. The last thing I remembered, was that the 911 calls for help were steadily increasing. They were all feverish and worried, we assessed, then treated them in accordance with our protocols. Some had dry coughs, some, conjunctivitis but all were strangely complaining of similar symptoms, although they were from different parts of The Bronx. The last thing I remembered, was their coughs getting worst, their bloodshot-red eyes, and their fetal positioning ,with each gasp for air. The last thing I remembered, was “working up” a cardiac arrest patient, and then another, and then another, and then, another…However, none of them survived, neither young or old, It was so depressing.

The last thing I remember, was trying to console the children, while not letting them feel scorned. They were all infected and had just watched their mother die suddenly, then their father too. The last thing I remember, was trying, not to cry… The last thing I remembered ,was getting home tired, fatigued and worn. Then waking up in a cloud of forgetfulness, not remembering where I was, or why I was burning up. The last thing I remembered, was the hallucinations in the night, fumbling my words while trying not to, “go into the light.” The coughing was unbearable, the headache, maddening, my heart beating erratically, and all ambient light blinding. The last thing I remembered was that each breath was rationed, due to the aggression of the pneumonia, and the fear of breathing in. The last thing I remembered, was that it all lasted three months, and that I never want to remember any of it ever again.

One thought on “The last thing I Remember…

  1. Kashema Hutchinson (she/her)

    Mark, thank you. Thank you for the work you did yesterday, today and the work you will do tomorrow. Even as I read your words, I will never really know how it feels to be in your shoes, however, I know that the weight of these experiences are immense and traumatic. You recording your remembering that you wish to forget will shed light in a way that will allow others to understand things differently. Love and healing to you. <3

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