Page 46 - SMH 2018 3rd edition

by Benny Braden

Hiking With PTS (Post Traumatic Stress)

Post-Traumatic Stress (PTS) in the emergency service field is something
I've felt like I've needed to write about for a while now, but never
knew what to say. It's hard to put into words what really needs to be
said. And to be honest, I've actually been running from it because it
hits a little too close to home for me. And well let's face it, by writing
about it requires me to possibly have to revisit some memories that
are painful and horrifying.

Cliff Tops /Photo credit: Dewey Slusher

I was in the fire, emergency and rescue fields combined for a little over a decade. I've been a first responder,
EMT, volunteer firefighter, rescue diver, swiftwater rescue instructor, water rescue team leader, vehicle extrica-
tion and EVOC instructor, first lieutenant and more.

If the alarm went off, I went. No matter where I was or what I was doing. One year I served
over 2000 volunteer hours. That was on top of my normal day job. I sacrificed my time, my

family’s time and my body. But little did I know then I was sacrificing my mental health
too. Some days we wouldn’t have that many calls, but on other days it was nonstop. I’ll
spare you of the details because I don’t want to put images in your head. But I will say I’ve
see a person die nearly every way someone can. Those images stay with me 24 hours a
day.
Photo Credit: Roane Co Rescue Squad
I tried to block it out after the call and initially it worked. But there comes a time that you see too much that
attempting to block it out no longer works. And back then we didn’t routinely practice debriefings. When the call
was over, we would go home or go do the next call. It was never discussed of talked about.

I didn’t start noticing something was wrong till three years after I left the emergency services. I started battling
depression. I was put on medication, but it still didn’t hit me that something was wrong. All the warning signs
were there, but I wasn’t paying attention. After a couple failed marriages and relationships. I met and married

my beautiful bride Ashley. She and her two beautiful daughters moved in. We began remodeling on our house.
Adding more space for everyone. At the same time my brother passed away due to long term use of narcotics.
And it wasn’t long that we adopted my two nieces (his daughters). Making my family of two (me and my son)
into a family of seven.

It wasn’t till then that I became a monster. The high stresses of remodeling a house
mixed with getting to know new people that were not only living with me, but also
depending on me was overwhelming. It was triggering anxiety attacks. It seemed as if
we were fighting all the time and it was getting worse by the day. Put all of that on
top of the hidden wounds from the years of emergency service. It was then that I
started experiencing the severe anxiety attacks.

46 Smoky Mountain Hiker