HEALTH & WELLNESS
A new normal
A car door slamming. A stack of books being
dropped to the floor. The crack of thunder. The
pop of fireworks. The sound of a gunshot com-
ing through the television. These sounds are ever
familiar, albeit unpleasant, for all of us who have
answered the call to serve our cities, counties,
state and country.
JAMIE
I’m often asked by my patients, “Will I ever get
MUCCIARELLI,
over
this?” “Why me?” and “Surely there’s some-
LCSW, MSW,
thing
I can do to make it stop?” When asked by
MA
those who have suffered trauma on the job what
the answer or the cure is, all I can say is “management.” There
is no cure for post-traumatic stress disorder, nor for its symp-
toms and byproducts; however, we can put the quality back in
our lives once we learn how to manage our symptoms.
For me, it was the smell of diesel fuel that triggered my trau-
ma. All it took was one whiff and I swore that I was back in
Iraq, for the fifth time. With that first post-military smell of
diesel, time just stood still and I envisioned myself right back
in the world’s largest sandbox. My senses were on overload:
The sight of the HumVees being loaded and offloaded from
my C-130 Hercules, the sound of heavy chains being thrown
around the axles to secure the HumVees to the aircraft floor,
the taste of sweat dripping from my forehead in the 123-de-
gree heat, the feel of the flag that lay draped over the metal
boxes of human remains positioned just forward of the Hum-
Vees, and inevitably, the smell of diesel as the forklift and
K-Loader drove away from the loading ramp; indicating that
we were T-10 from take-off. That smell hovered above me in
the cargo compartment for what seemed like an eternity. It fi-
nally began to dissipate just in time as we were landing and
again greeted by another forklift and K-Loader to remove car-
go from the airplane.
Now, eight years later, at least once or twice a week when
I’m driving, I catch a hint of diesel in the air and I swear I am
right back where the “old me” first assigned a lifelong reaction
to the smell of diesel. It took so many years for me to accept
that this smell will forever be a reminder of the time I served
in lands too far from home. I realized only recently that I can’t
“cure” this — even as a therapist. The “old me” was fearless.
The “old me” was just putting in another day on the job…the
radios, the crew, the surface-to-air threats. “Pilot, BANK LEFT,
RPG, 9 o’clock!” As I type that now, I notice that my fingers
CONTINUED ON PAGE 76
We appreciate the New Jersey State PBA, its members and families
Thank You for All that You Do
www.njcopsmagazine.com
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