My career was in the fire service for 34 years. I was a paramedic, then an EMS Lieutenant (supervisor) and would share stories about my day with our family. The kids grew up hearing cautionary tales about drinking and driving, drug use, and bad decisions. They heard some funny stories, some heartbreaking, and some really scary ones. They both came on a ride-along. We spoke often about the risks and health issues of drinking and drugs. I was quite honest with them about family history contributing to the risk of addiction, hoping they would continue to make good decisions and talk with us if any situations arose. I hoped that I would know if they were experimenting. I knew what being drunk and being high looked like. I knew the smell associated with alcohol and pot. I knew about drug paraphernalia. I thought, “I’d see any evidence, right?” Back then, I had no idea how much I didn’t know about substance abuse. 

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I responded to 911 calls in a medic unit, provided treatment, and transported patients to the hospital. I handled a large variety of calls, ranging from helping someone up off the floor, to broken bones and trauma, to medical emergencies such as heart attack or stroke, and everything in between. Overdose calls were scattered in there, but during my time on a medic unit they weren’t encountered daily. I was promoted to a supervisory position in 2010, and began to see a huge increase in overdose calls. 

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 As a supervisor, I also responded to the most serious and higher acuity calls with several different medics in a larger area such as calls for an unconscious person, cardiac arrest, childbirth, drownings, motor vehicle crashes involving motorcycles or entrapment/rescue. My role on these calls was to assist with advanced level care such as respiratory care, administering medications such as naloxone, helping with cardiac interventions like pacing or shocking the heart, coordinating scene activities, interacting with family members/bystanders, and ensuring an overall high quality of care and service. I spent a lot of time with distraught, angry, overwhelmed, and grieving family members. I did my best to provide compassion, information, resources, or sometimes just a listening ear. 

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At work, I was able to help an overdose victim. I could respond, give naloxone, perform rescue breathing, and administer oxygen. I could help a stranger at work, but was helpless at home without naloxone. Thankfully, that changed! My husband Chip and I took the required training and now had this life saving drug available at home. Since then, I carry naloxone with me everywhere. I began assisting with naloxone trainings by showing people how to assemble and administer the medication, how to do rescue breathing, and how to do hands-only CPR. With my career in EMS and my own family experience, I shared without shame and was able to help others.  I developed and presented training for my fellow supervisors, arming them with understanding and compassionate ways to interact with their patients and families. In collaboration with behavioral health partners at work, I developed a resource and information packet so supervisors could give this information to family members and overdose patients. I also talked with students in paramedic class. I wanted to humanize addiction and give practical advice on how to better assess and care for the people they would meet in their career. 

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A couple of years ago, a group of parents met in Annapolis, Maryland to talk with our elected state officials about important bills in the legislative process relating to substance abuse, treatment, and resources needed to reach more people needing help. That is where I met Wendy, Founder and Executive Director of Rage Against Addiction. Our daughters were the same age and had the same struggles. Little did we know then that we would both end up losing our daughters to drug overdoses. Wendy and RAA are making such an impact, especially for women, by establishing two recovery homes, and providing resources for children and families affected by addiction.

Brittany often said how proud of me she was for speaking to and teaching others about substance abuse. She was pleased that I was stressing kindness and compassion. She said, “Mom, I’m so glad you are doing this, so many people treat us like shit. You might be the only one nice to them that day.” I always made sure Britt knew that we loved her and would help her any time she was ready. She went to rehab at least eight or nine times with varying degrees of success. Each relapse or recurrence of her disease was heartbreaking. We spoke very honestly about her struggles. She never wanted to be a number on a sign.  She wanted to be a lot of things, but addicted to drugs was never on her list of dreams. She was a sister, a wife, a friend to many, and our little girl. We will remember her wet messy baby kisses, her big warm hugs, her silly side, her bubbly laughter, her love of children, her love of make-up and nail polish, and her strength in her struggles, and her desire and longing for a full, happy life.  

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Written by: Tracey Marvel (Bel Air, MD)