I wish I could turn around and bolt from this godawful profession; yet I can't because I need the money to pay bills, take care of my little girl, Briana, provide for my husband, Tito.

My name is Angela Ruiz. I am a new paramedic-in-training. I have been on the team for less than six months; much of what I have experienced is all new to me, unfamiliar, even to the piont of being scary.

Such as the case that happened a few weeks back: we were on the night shift, "we" being Goose Guzman, Dwayne T. Jackson, and Wendell Gilmarten, who were my partners. They are all experienced, and two (Goose and Wendell) have been on the force going on ten years. They are the ones to go to if a problem arises, they are the ones who know the ropes of paramedicdom, know how it is out in the field. It isn't pretty, but they told me I'd better get used to it, fast.

Being a paramedic is a nasty business.

Such as the case of which I am about to share with you now. Ever since this happened, I have been on the verge of tears. It has been a nightmare, my own personal nightmare.

I was with my partners when a call came out over the radio. It was a call for a woman who had been physically attacked by an unkown assailant. The woman was conscious, but she was hysterical, the reporter on the radio stated, and we'd best get to the scene fast. The woman was bleeding heavily from her vagina, and she was rapidly going into shock.

We got to the scene within moments. When I saw whre I was, my heart fell to my stomach. The address was none other than that of my best friend, Elena Dimarco. I got a sickening feeling in the pit of my belly as we approached the house; I was almost afraid what we'd find.

We found Elena lying in the bathroom, on the floor. She was weeping heavily, and she was lying in a pool of blood that continued to trickle from her vagina. She was clad in a sweatshirt and in her underpants; her undies were ripped and covered with blood.

The scene made me want to throw up. I know immediately what had happened: my best friend had been raped. Who had done it was unknown at this time, but I was feeling a sense of rage to the bastard who had violated my best friend's personal space. Because of him, my friend was injured, in a violent, horrific fashion, and she was now beyond emotional stability. She was wild with hysteria.

Yet I had to keep my personal feelings in check as we attended to Elena's needs. Goose took her vital signs (her blood pressure was low, her pulse, fast, her skin clammy and cold, but she would be okay after medical treatment), while Wendell started an I.V. into one pallid wrist, and Dwayne hooked her up to a portable heart monitor. He also put her on a nasal cannula to ease her rapid, gasping breathing (hyperventilation); she was air hungry from fear.

We put some sanitary pads under her bleeding vagina, so it wouldn't go all over the gurney, covered her quaking form with a blanket, and strapped her to the gurney. We then rolled her out to the ambulance, where we loaded her up, and soon took off towards the closest hospital.

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At the hospital, Elena was tended to by the doctors and nurses, who tried their best to calm her fears. The woman was still hysterical, and I was still feeling ill almost to the point of throwing up. I was an emotional basketcase. George and Walter could see that I was upset, so they tried their best to console me; they knew I was hurting for my friend.

In the end, Elena recovered from her physical injuies; however, her emotinal/mental injuries would last much longer. Elena is now seeing a psychiatrist, to try to deal with the aftereffects of the rape, and the police are still on the hunt for the assailant.

The situation has caused me to have second doubts about the profession I have chosen. I have always wanted to help people, and I have always wanted to make a difference; however, when I see my friends hurt in horrible ways, I don't know if I can go on doing this. I am afriad what may happen to another friend, and if something does happen, it may be much worse.

I don't know if I could deal with that. I might end up commiting suicide; the grief over what happened to my best friend Elena is just too much for me to bear.

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