And how was your night?

Well, let's see ... it was dark and chilly.

Around 3:30 am we go to someone short of breath, we lug our 100 lbs of equipment up five flights of stairs to find a man having an asthma attack.  No big surprise there, this is the land of asthma & seizures.  Now, there are different grades of asthmatics, and he's one with a somewhat strong history -- meaning he should not screw around with it.  But of course "he ran out" of his medicines, all of them, at least a day or more ago.  So we start treating him and he pronounces that he will not be going to the hospital.  That he's fully aware that he could die and that he has other things to take care of first.  He just wanted a breathing treatment to tide him over till morning.  So now we change to playing mobile clinic.  Because he's an AMA (refusing against medical advice), now we have to get the tour supervisor involved and the doctor on the radio blah blah blah.  End result, we leave, he's still wheezing.  He might be dead by now.

So back down the five flights of stairs and out to our truck, put away the equipment, get ready to leave.  I glance down between the seats and notice my little cooler is flipped over, and Chris's is missing.  Simultaneously he notices my backpack is gone.  We're in an older truck, not all the doors auto-lock, so it's accessible.  Apparently, sitting there with it's lights on at 4am, some son of a bitch decided to reach in our truck and grab what he could and split.

I've worked in the inner city for a long time now, technically there wasn't that much of monetary value in that bag and surely nothing that couldn't be replaced.  The upshot is that they grabbed mine and not his, because his phone and such was in his.  We both know we'll never see our stuff again, but we do a search of the surrounding blocks hoping they tossed it when they realized there was nothing of resale value in it.  Police report won't help and the hospital doesn't give a shit unless it's their stuff that was taken.  Dejected and feeling victimized, we get back to quarters, only to have one of the freakin chiefs come down on us about the locks on the truck.  What an awful feeling, how nobody gives a shit.  Not your employer, your supervisor, the police, not even the fucking people who you bust your ass for trying to prolong their miserable existences.

If that bastard ran from stealing my shit and got nailed by a car, it'd be having to scrape him up.  I have to deal with that concept now and I hate that.  Again, it's nothing that can't be replaced technically.  It's only things like ...

• The Littmann Master Cardiology stethoscope I got when I first became a paramedic and is engraved with my certification number.
• A book on Scotland my husband got me for Christmas.
• My meager collection of make-up, which contained the tube of lipstick I wore for my wedding and small items from my honeymoon.
• My favorite hair brush.
• My ear muffs and decent cold weather gloves, so I can handle standing out on a blustery highway at O dark thirty.
• Oh yes, the worst part -- I decided to wear my contacts tonight, so they got my glasses as well.  Which I'm fairly dependent on.

So no, it's not earth shattering and heart breaking.  But just the thought of some skell rummaging through my personal items just to abuse them or throw them away turns my stomach.  I can replace it, but it will never take away the disgust and feeling of disrespect that I have.

And I have to go back there tonight and pretend like I give a shit.  This will take a little while to get over.