My First Day as a Paramedic

My first day as a paramedic was supposed to be easy.

Orientation shift. Third rider. No pressure.

Then my supervisor called to say he wasn’t coming in. Instead, I’d be working with a part-time EMT-I. His parting words: “You’ll be fine. Don’t kill too many people.”

My first 911 call? A possible stroke — the county judge’s mother — stuck on the second floor of a historic building with a sketchy antique elevator. Only the patient and I fit. So I rode down alone with a probable CVA, praying the elevator didn’t turn into my origin story.

Inside: chaos. Outside: calm, confident, experienced.

Minutes later, we caught another call on the courthouse steps — a “fall.” While assessing him, a man asked if we could check his wife. Another stroke. Two CVAs on my first day as a paramedic. Totally normal. Completely fine.

By the end of the shift, I’d flown multiple patients and earned my first nickname: black cloud. EMS hands those out fast. Some are funny. Some stick. Some you never want.

That day taught me the truth about this job: it doesn’t ease you in. It throws you straight into the deep end and watches to see if you swim. You adapt. You fake confidence. You survive. And when the shift ends, you laugh — because trauma demands humor.

It’s how we make it home.