Editor's note: Tyler Greenwood shared this story with Firehouse because of his belief that lessons learned are useless if they are not shared with others. Greenwood's goal is to help others who may be facing similar circumstances to find TKTK.
I remember seeing my vehicle on its side, crushing my wife’s lifeless body. I was on the first-due apparatus to a motor vehicle crash that took the life of the mother of our two children. My entire world catastrophically changed that day, but not all for the worst. You see, I had actually lost my wife a year earlier, emotionally. Let’s take a trip down memory lane and you can see how things compare; to some extent it’ll probably be like looking in a mirror of your own progression.
Growing up I was a goofy loner. I made people laugh a lot because it seemed to be my only strong quality. I was tall, skinny and just weird. I enjoyed sports but wasn’t any good at them. Academics certainly weren’t for me. The combination of ADHD and class clown took priority over everything else.
It was around my junior year when I realized I wouldn’t graduate high school with my class, so I really gave up then. I advanced from being heavy into partying to major league partying. If you believed in me at this phase of my life you were the strong minority; I certainly didn’t. I returned to high school for an extra semester and graduated a year late, but graduated nonetheless.
After high school I worked at our local big box store. I could get out of our local jail on work release and it was within walking distance. That’s what happens when you get caught with bags of dope…twice in one year. Waking up to your door getting kicked in by the local sheriff’s department should be a wake-up call, but it wasn’t.
About a week before I went into jail I met one of the most amazing people to ever come into my life—a girl who saw what I could be, not what I had been. Her name was Jessica and Jess waited for me to serve my time, visiting me secretly at work.
When I was a free man we started dating and would move in together a short time later. Jessica had a son from a previous relationship who lived with her full time. He was young and full of energy. I raised him as my own. We would go on to buy a house, have two more children named Julia and Jacob, and start living the American Dream.
Joining the fire department
Here’s where my story might compare with yours. When I was 21, I applied to the local fire department. It had been my dream to be a firefighter since I was a little boy. I’d hear the fire whistle and watch for my neighbor, an assistant chief, to race down the alley to the fire station. I was a moth to the flame. I could tell you what apparatus was leaving the station just by the siren. I’d go to the station and hang out with the firefighters and it was my paradise!
Well, when I applied I was rejected. Once again my criminal history would come back to haunt me. I followed up every month with a phone call. I had to get the chief to trust me. After a year I applied again. The same neighbor who watched me grow up stood up and vouched for me all these years later. I owe my life and where am I today to Tom.
My dream had come true and I was finally a firefighter. I wore my fire department shirts with pride. I had the firefighter license plates, the identification placard and of course the pager that was always on. I was a firefighter and everyone was going to know it! It was right around this time that I started to “leave” my family at home for my new family at the fire department. It didn’t matter if it was a fire alarm, motor vehicle crash or a broken sprinkler head, I had to save the day.
After being on the department for five years or so I really started to get the itch to become an EMT. I figured it was hopeless. After all, how could I get a state license with drug charges on my record? I figured if I could at least get the knowledge I could assist EMS crews on scene. I completed training, and to my surprise was issued an EMT Basic license. Now things were getting real and I had caught the EMS “bug.”
I was offered a full-time position with our local service with the stipulation of becoming a paramedic. My dream to be full-time in an emergency services role had become my reality. I enrolled and started paramedic school in Madison, WI, in September 2012. I was working 24’s or going to school at least six days a week. I had very little time at home with my family and the time I was home was spent studying or at the fire department. Any free time I could manage was spent with my best friend, a fellow firefighter and new paramedic. I got coffee with him, went for drinks with him, went and had fun with him. My family was left in the rear view.
Crumbling relationship
I filed for divorce around April 2013 and that was it. Jessica had caught a different bug: alcohol. It was a fight I couldn’t compete with. I had given up on her, and once again, I wish I could tell her I’m sorry. When she needed me most I walked away. I finished school and walked out of Madison College a paramedic and I was on top of the world.
On Sept. 1, 2013, I responded to a vehicle versus motorcycle crash. It was clear there were severe injuries. I would get my first big trauma as lead paramedic that night, but as a result of the crash a young man I knew well lost his life. Another is alive today but with life altering injuries. A community felt the aftershock as they were all well known. I went home the morning after shift still buzzing from the call. I scheduled a cookout with my brother that day, he arrived around 2:30 p.m.
The call that changed everything
Just when we were getting ready to start the festivities my pager went off: “Baraboo Fire and EMS you’re needed for a single vehicle rollover, occupant pinned under the vehicle.” My brother already knew the drill and he would get started and I would return when the job was done. Off I went. The radio traffic was precise and clear; we knew this was one of “those” calls. While en route, we gave out assignments, we had our tasks and were ready to go.
I wouldn’t get the chance to be a hero that day. When we arrived on scene I stepped off the apparatus and was met immediately by my chief. As a full-time EMS provider I had seen more death than the majority of our paid-per-call fire personnel, so naturally I was the one helping with body recoveries and that’s what I expected this conversation to be.
It wasn’t. He told me “it’s Jessica” and I asked how she was. He just shook his head. He made that swiping motion across his neck with his fingers to imply what I already knew, my wife was dead. From what I gather Jessica had been on her way to Madison to see the surviving victim from the previous night's crash and then would continue on to Chicago to spend time with the guy she had started seeing. She went off the roadway, over corrected and rolled her vehicle into a field. It was a survivable crash if she had been wearing her seat belt.
I sat on the side of the road trying to figure out how I got here. How did this happen to us? How would I tell our children that their mom was dead? How could I have changed this? I asked the paramedic on scene the typical medical questions: what's her cardiac rhythm, are you working her, etc. You see, he was also our neighbor and a fellow firefighter. He was one of my best friends, as were the other 30 people looking at her dead body still crushed under our family vehicle. Everyone on that scene knew her personally. I had just graduated with two of the paramedics on scene. This wasn’t just a death, this was a death in our family.
Telling our families
I returned to the station in a support vehicle. The radio traffic was deafening. I didn’t want to hear them call for the coroner so I turned the radios off. I got back to the station and prepared to make the rounds. I had to go tell Jessica's mom, brother and our family that she was dead. I stopped at her mom’s first. Her brother met me by the road because word had started to spread and he had an idea. “Don’t say it,” he repeated over and over. I gave him a hug and said the words he’d been dreading. I lived a block away from Jessica's mother's home, and as I hugged her I could see my kids outside playing. I was about to change their lives forever. I walked down the sidewalk with that same assistant chief that had watched me grow through the years.
I’ll never forget his words that day: “You’ve been the glue for so many of us, it’s time for us to be yours.”
My humor usually had a way of breaking the ice and making guys forget the current argument or issues that were on the table. The fire chief and chief deputy of the sheriff’s department—a retired firefighter and friend—would drive down the road because I needed more time. I walked in the house and could hear the kids upstairs playing. I told my parents and brother the details and then I walked up the old creaky stairs and had the kids sit down next to me. I asked them if they knew where I had went and they knew it was a car crash. I told them “it was mom” and my daughter asked if she was hurt. I told them those life changing words, you know the ones they pound into your head during the death notification part of school: “she died.” My son didn’t believe me and said “you’re spoofing, dad.” They could tell from my expression that this wasn’t a sick joke and those screams will forever haunt me and the people in the house that day. I fell apart. Not just that day but for years to come.
The struggle
Here’s where it gets interesting. When you go through a life-changing event like this everyone will tell you what they think you want to hear. Who are they to tell you anything else? Poor me, right? I drank and fell into a world of pity and selfishness. I had been through hell and I needed a crutch. I had parties so that I wasn’t alone at night. I spent time with friends when I should have been with the children. Numbing my pain was the new priority. I remember the first time I didn’t visit the cemetery, and I felt terrible. I had let her down once again. If I didn’t keep her memory alive and hurt for her then who would? I shared my pain on social media for the world to see. I had amazing support, but it kept me right where I wanted to be inside my dark hole. It took me a couple years to find myself again.
What I learned
I found out some things along this journey that I want to share with you, hopefully to help you from carrying the weight I live with today.
- If you suffer a loss or emotional injury, remember its OK to be OK. I was never told that healing was a good thing. I had to carry the weight of her death as my responsibility. When I started feeling better, I just felt guilty for it. Don’t feel bad for getting better. Wounds need to heal.
- Your job is just that, your job. Identify as a spouse, parent, athlete or whatever it is that makes you proud and leave your work title for later in the conversation.
- Use your resources. Most agencies have employee assistance programs, so utilize them. They can help in so many areas and are usually free of charge. A wise man once told me “we have a hard time cleaning out our closets, we tend to just upgrade to a larger one.” He was right. Work on cleaning out the skeletons, because if you don’t, they’ll come back to haunt you at the worst possible times.
- Find a healthy hobby and stick with it. Drowning your problems only exacerbates them. I found triathlons and completed two Wisconsin Ironman events. The competition gives me structure.
- Family is priority. For the sake of this article, I’ll let you place spirituality and religion where you see fit.
- Trauma—emotionally and mentally—will come back to visit you at the worst times. The pathways are cut in the brain during the event and will remain there for a lifetime. Be prepared for events that seem minor to manifest into something larger. The brain will recognize the chemicals released during your tough times and take you right back to that moment. Recognize this and stop the snowball from becoming an avalanche.
I hope this story of my life can help you from repeating my mistakes. When you started on this career path you agreed to take responsibility for other people’s lives. It’s only a matter of time before you roll up to your loved one, neighbor or friend in their time of need. It’s in that moment that I hope you reflect back and think about my struggles.
Make your own path, a better one than I endured. Be the example I wish I would have been.
