Matthew Heneghan - A Medics Mind: Love, Loss, And All Things In Between

A Medics Mind

Love, Loss and All Things in Between.

By Matthew Heneghan

Published By - Free Spirit

Price - $30 USD

website - www.freespiritpublisher.com

First Edition December 2021

Book Cover Designed by Koni Deraz, Germany
Book Design By - HMDpublishing
Edited By - Anshika Singh, India

Distribution By Poets Choice
ISBN: 978-1-946211-77-4

ISBN : 978-1-956666-04-5

BCID - 939-16359204

Contents

You never know the value of a moment, until it has become memory.

Dr. Seuss

In the Beginning

What you are about to read is a story of family. This will not be reminiscent of the Bradys nor the Partridges. It is after all a tale of my family. However, I feel it prudent to offer a caveat here; my family and the way of which you will come to learn of them will be presented in a way atypical of storytelling. This is not done out of fondness for theatrics or prolongation. It is just the only way in which I know how to introduce you to those I have loved to those whom I have lost and to those with whom I have shared all manner of things in between.

The path I have traveled and those paths encountered along the way have not been linear. Thus, to tell it as such would be a disservice to the message I hope to convey when you turn that final page

My name is Matthew. I grew up in rural, small-town Canada. A place protected by the gargantuan expanse of the Rocky Mountains. Pristine lakebeds and coniferous greens are the stock-in-trade of this craggy paradise. On the surface, my surroundings and how I interacted with them could be seen as innocuous and perhaps traditional. I spent summers outdoors, swimming in lakes and jumping off docks. In the winter, I would play hockey and sip hot chocolate. I had a core group of friends, including one who continues to be my best friend to this exact dayDrew. I would celebrate holidays, go to school and for the most part, stay out of trouble. Well, avoid getting caught, anyway. All slices of that normative pie we call life. Dig a little deeper, though, and the veneer of innocence begins to fade away

I grew up in a fractured, fatherless home. It hadnt always been that way, but when I was nine, the police came and took my father away. Never to be seen again. My father was not by any standards a good man. Something you will come to learn of a little later on. My mother was a simple woman marred by complexities of mental health and physical ailments. She developed cancer shortly after my father was arrested. She spent the better part of my formative years in and out of hospitals. She even made the front page of the local paper, onceshe had been airlifted to a trauma centre after a suicide attempt. I was young at the time, so I do not recall the incident with clarity. But I do remember how she would often brag about being in the paper in a way that did not match the severity of causal effect.

I have siblings; each of whom had been thrown from the house at different times when my mother was in one of her fits of rage.. When that happened, I was not to speak, visit or even mention their respective names. This has led to some rather tenuous family dynamics later in life.

When my mother was angry, her ire knew no bounds. When I received my first paycheck from my job as a paper boy, she expected a form of rent to be given her way. I was twelve. When she learned that I had instead depleted my pennies on pop, snacks and a new videogame, she slapped me upside the head, causing a burning, pulsating heat to punish my right ear. Further punishment was that I was not allowed to eat any of the food in the house. Her rationale behind this punitive measure was that if I had money for snacks and games, then I had money for groceries, too. I would have to wait until late at night to sneak down and silently rummage through the pantry for something to eat.

My mother was generally a wonderful woman but she was definitely complex. As were the relationships my siblings and I had with her.

I was generally a preoccupied kid growing up. I was always fearful that my mother would either die from disease, or by her own hand. Some days, when I would get home from school, the door would be unlocked and the house empty. I was to assume during those times that she had been taken to the hospital again

As I got older, a few things began to ring true: One; I was not going to college on any athletic scholarships and for certain not to be a late round draft pick for the NHL. Two; my grades were not going to beckon the attention of any prestigious post-secondary establishments. And three; none of the aforementioned things bothered me; because I already knew what I was going to do with my lifejoin the armyand thats exactly what I did!

At the age of eighteen, I joined the army and had done so with the intent of becoming a medic! This was to be my calling in life. I couldnt fix my world, but maybe just maybe, I could fix a little bit of it for others. I do not fear death. I am however terrified at the thought of a life lived, having done nothing for anyone.

I think that this is partly what has given birth to my desire to share this story. You see, I spent so much of my time trying to piece little shards of our broken world back together, that I let my shattered existence continue to fragment and fester. But when I met these men and women, these people that would become my other family, I suddenly realized that it was possible for my world to mend itself as well. And thanks to them, and to others, it has finally started to do just that.

From my time in the army to my time as a paramedic, I have seen the birth of life and the last breath before death. I have loved and lost. This is that story.

Section 1:

Home

I alluded to my growing up in a small town; I think its important to start there as it truly served as a carving stone for who I turned out to be, and who I have become now. Part of meeven back thenknew how lucky I was to grow up in a place such as the one that will be described. The other part of me, the zealous know-it-all, wanted nothing more than to flee the relative safety of that diminutive abode. I wasnt so much adventurous as I was navenave and angry. And when I look back on it now, my time spent within that tiny little land surrounded by hills and water, no matter how complex it may have been, were unquestionably some of the best moments of my at times, weighted life. I was in such a hurry to leave and grow up, whereas now I wish I could stay there forever. Ill tell you some stories of why I love it so much. These are my stories of home.

Chapter 1:

The Fall Fair

I wrote this on a return visit to my home town after many years away

A sunbeam snuck in through a timeworn crack in the bleacher roof. The heat of it against my forehead caused me to squint and shuffle back an inch or two in my seat. I had just arrived, tea in one hand and a breakfast sandwich waiting to be devoured in the other. I rested contently along the aged wooden planks of the seating area, sipping and chewing calmly. I could hear the sibilant buzz of black flies and other airborne insects dancing in flight all around. Though the place I had known as a kid was now overtaken by the unkempt foliage of natures embrace, I could still see everything in the way of which I had known it to be all those years ago.