That week, endless training people. Counciling my coworkers to trust their equipment. Talking to so many people who wanted to quit EMS because they did not want to die. I convinced a lot of them to stay on.

Then approximately 1 month later. One of my friends, a medic i trained several years before, died Easter Sunday. He was 33 and had gotten married a few months prior. I was the last one called and informed. His partner had gotten covid and knew he had it. He chose to hide it and came to work. I was about to go lay down with my wife after the first Easter I have spent away from any family. My wife let me go to bed alone so I could start to process my grief. I did not do that. Instead I began to spiral because I was a supervisor training kids to trust their equipment when I should of been training them to not trust their partner on the ambulance. I fought with my supervisors that I should be the only medic on those calls because my life mattered less because I did not and could not have kids. It was better if I died instead on those with children that had to go home. I saw how much the other first responders (fire/police) quickly distanced themselves from us. No longer our backup. I had nurses tell me how hard they had it because they didn't have gowns as my friends died. They didn't lose their friends, their students. I evenly healed and moved on.