The Goal

Man, I just want to be a deputy coroner. Or autopsy technician.

Ever since around 2006, I became infatuated with criminal justice and forensic science. I have changed my mind about what exactly I want to do in those fields many times; officer, detective, attorney, crime scene technician, blood spatter analyst, forensic geologist, fingerprint technician, coroner/death investigator, S.A.N.E, F.N.D.I, private detective, and forensic social worker. And then I've switched back to various ones over and over. It has been especially difficult because of my mental health.

I started my criminal justice program in 2010. I did incredibly well for the first year there. Then I got antsy, so I transferred to a university for a criminal justice program with an emphasis in forensic science. My mental health deteriorated rapidly, I failed miserably, and ended up dropping out for the first time at the end of 2011.

I dated and married my husband for the entirety of 2012, then was forced back to school. I knew I wasn't ready, but we had nowhere else to turn.

I changed my major to social work. It was awful. I failed nearly every single class I took. Not because social work is bad at all (it's actually awesome), but because I never went to class. I was going through so much and I'd just been married. It was stupid to go back, and I essentially dropped out again.

We went back to my parents for the remainder of 2013. It was extremely difficult. I couldn't hold a job, but I was determined to become a forensic nurse. That's when I did CNA school. It was pure misery. I did well in class. In fact, I only missed one of the questions on the 100-question final. However, we had two days of clinicals at the end of the program. I ran away after the first 10 minutes. I straight up left the premises in hysterics, because I couldn't see my partner. The next time, I was able to last the full day, but I was uncomfortable and dreaded every call light. I remember my favorite part was bathing a disabled woman - we didn't have to speak to each other, it was just me doing something kind for her. I never did my second day of clinicals.

So, in 2014, I decided to try mortuary school. The logic was that I didn't have to speak to anyone and I could help people out from a distance. I failed all but my mortuary science class and didn't have good enough grades to continue.

Because we needed money, I transferred to a university and changed my major back to criminal justice. I was fading. I barely scraped by with my criminal justice grades, which were also beginning to slip. I finally sought the school psychiatric NP. I couldn't see her until they could determine I really needed to. I took a 300 question diagnostic test. They found "significant" scores in depression and anxiety. After a session with a therapist, I was diagnosed with major depression and social phobia.

Finally, I could begin repairing my life.

I began visiting with my psychiatrist regularly, and then a therapist every week for DBT. It got worse before it got better. I eventually dropped out again, because I stopped caring about criminal justice. I'd stopped caring about anything. I wanted SO badly to die. I looked very hard at starting electric shock therapy and ketamine injections. I was desperate to feel better.

Then, it just changed. We still can't explain it, but I was running out of meds one week, and I tapered them out. Then I went to the ER for a new 'script. The first gabapentin from the new (identical) bottle changed my life. I felt so good. So good. And it stayed the next day and the next and the next.

I'm still better. Loads better. And now I can start trying again. This time I'm ready. Finally!

So I'm doing something I've always wanted to do, but was too scared to. Even in my mortuary blog, I'd always come back to this, but I've always wanted to be an EMT. Ever since 9/11, and then an incident at a family reunion where an elderly relative slipped on concrete and basically died, and an even more recent incident where my husband went into shock.

I hated feeling so helpless, but how could I ever be a good medic? I could hardly speak! And being around people all day? So intimately? Never in my wildest dreams did I think that could ever happen. And now I'm doing it. I can do it.

The best part is that coroners love them. Many coroner and similar positions ask for paramedical training specifically. So why not kill two birds with one stone? My accelerated program ends next month, then I'll be at UVU this Fall, and I should graduate next Summer as a Paramedic. Yay!!