The experience of being a first responder is distinct and different for everyone in the profession, and because of this, talking about first responder mental health generally is kind of like trying to talk about a forest by describing every single tree. On the one hand, this level of intricacy is why it can be useful to generalize, typify, and simplify the broad range of experiences into digestible chunks of information. On the other hand, leaving out individual experiences may lead to a sense of cold depersonalization. Thus, the First Responders Are Human organization wants to learn from the experiences of current and former first responders to talk about this issue in a way that reconciles both sides.
One person from whom a lot can be learned is Brian Robitaille who (among his various careers) has 6 years of experience as a paramedic, and has spent the last 2 years running an overflow homeless facility (the Bernard Grandmaitre arena) for the City of Ottawa.
When helping the homeless and disaffected, everyone has their own unique set of problems which are often problems not easily solved by someone else. What someone else can do, however, is help remove obstacles and ease burdens. Thus, the question that guides Brian’s efforts at the arena: “If I can’t solve someone’s complete set of problems, then what small problem can I solve to make life just a little bit easier for that person?”.
One day as Brian watched “Big Mike” (one of his regulars) park his minivan/living quarters in the arena parking lot, he made the decision to shoulder some burden by decluttering the minivan while Mike was inside warming up. While doing so, a metaphorical lightbulb appeared over Brian’s head as he noticed a pile of wet, cold, dirty clothes in Mike’s van. Thinking that if he could reach out to a community partner to offer a laundry service to the shelter’s users, then at least that burden could be removed from the shoulders of people like Big Mike.
Everyone can relate to the discomfort of putting on wet clothing, and I can personally attest to the sharp drop in morale that comes with donning a wet, cold set of clothing for the n’th day in a row. Dry clothes offer a sense of relief, a boost to morale, dignity, self-esteem, and gratefulness, all of which matters a lot to someone trying to get back on their feet.
The idea to use an arena as a respite centre during the pandemic was implement by Brian and his colleagues during the early days of the pandemic in 2020. It didn't initially extend beyond a place for people to get out of the cold, but all the services and community that are now present came from the question asked at the beginning of this article. Today the shelter boasts a gym, a first aid station / class area, cots to sleep on, a small canteen, bathrooms and showers, a library, veterinary services, Ontario Government services.
Over his two years at the impromptu shelter, Brian has seen and done just about all of it; On the darker end he has both seen and been the target of stabbings, has dealt with the mental health of both the facility’s users and those working there, has dealt with sickness and despair, and has seen and stopped overdoses. On the brighter end of things, Brian has been involved with organizing recreation activities, first aid classes and fitness classes, and helping people through their darkest moments. As a matter of fact, once of the beneficiaries of Brian’s penchant for helping people and saving lives (after and overdose) was sitting not too far from Brian and I as we had our conversation.
Speaking about individual experiences, what becomes increasingly clearer when speaking with Brian is the distinction between the traumatic experiences faced by paramedics versus those faced by those working with the homeless.
Per Brian’s experience, working in Paramedicine means that one sees far more traumatic things happening but that is counterbalanced somewhat by the short period of time that a medic is in the life of their patient. While working with the homeless population, traumatic events don’t often occur with the same intensity (though sometimes they do), but rather the psychological toll comes more from seeing people you work with for years succumb to addiction or their own mental health issues. Opening oneself up to connect with another can often be a great way of helping someone, but the cost of that is the vulnerability that the caretaker opens in themselves.
Part of working in such a high stress environment is the need to constantly be aware of the mental state of your colleagues. Members of a team will experience different events, or the same event differently so an understanding of the highly individualistic nature of experiencing trauma is necessary to ensure that you team member’s mental health is maintained.
From all my interviews with first responders, a common takeaway is that developing a community / network of people who understand what a first responder endures is the best way to mitigate the mental health burden of the profession. That same conclusion is valid also for those working in other caretaking roles and beyond; the idea of developing a mutually supportive peer network helps the responder, the caretaker, and the people in need of care. It’s difficult or even impossible to completely understand and solve what someone is going through, but sometimes you don’t need to do that… you just need to be there.
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