For our LEOs, EMS & Firefighters - the PTSD side of these noble professions needs more visibility, acceptance, and pro-active efforts...by ALL of us. MA Law Enforcement Support just posted this. Please take the time to read it. Consider a call to Safe Call Now and becoming aquainted with the services of On-Site Academy. In 1998 Retired Boston Police Officer Kevin Pishkin needed help. He was overwhelmed by past experiences, injured during a fight on the job that caused him to have to take administrative leave and ultimately caused his early retirement, and suffering from PTSD. Reaching out to someone who loved him, and spending time in the On-Site Academy [in Westminster, MA] saved his life. He shares his story with us here. Please be aware, this is a story full of detail, emotion and can be difficult for some to read. It may be a trigger for anyone who suffers from PTSD. Thank you for sharing Ret. Officer Pishkin. Were so glad you got the help that you did. I just read a post from Larry Brown about a current discovery, that an officer who had not been heard from in a while, committed suicide yesterday. That immediately got my mind thinking about my own past. Im tired of losing brothers and sisters to PTSD and other emotional/mental battles, even substance abuse. So let me be the first person to speak publicly and open myself up to you all. I love you all too much, I cant watch any of you die...and Ive been to enough funerals, way too soon. In 1998, I was a Police Officer in Boston assigned to work the Orchard Park and Mission Hill Housing Projects as an assignment. The old O.P. Trailblazers and Prescott Players were gangs in there at the time. And I worked 4.5yrs in those neighborhoods, built a strong reputation there of being fair but tough, while on patrol. I was involved in the Federal round-up of these gangs in the giant sweep that netted about 30 people in one night. The remainders were caught in Brockton and Randolph days later. But in 1998, I experienced several things that somehow flipped a switch in my head. It frankly doesnt matter what they were but several close friends/brothers on the job killed themselves. Some left behind suicide notes saying they hoped their life insurance would take good care of their kids. I saw their limp bodies dragged from cruisers, bathrooms and even project hallways. Always groups of us, standing around in uniform, keeping the media away. Several other things happened, that Ill not type here. Im sure we could all fill in the blanks with horrific stories. But then I got into a fight on Dudley/Adams St one day, outside the market store there. The suspect was on parole out of South Carolina for shooting a man in the face, in a bar, with a rifle. After catching him with a baggie full of rocks of crack cocaine, I went to place him under arrest. An unbelievable fight began. My uniform shirt was torn almost completely off, hanging by threads. My badge was in the street, my baton on the sidewalk, handcuffs under a parked car, as we continued this battle. I was able to radio in for officer down, need assistance but only once. I hoped I was heard. And during this brawl, I was stabbed and the suspect grabbed my gun from my holster., breaking apart the safety snap-lock that keeps the gun fastened inside. I began to bleed, a lot. And I began fighting for my gun. I was able to reholster my gun but I needed to hold it in place, as the holster was broken open. This left me able to continue the ground fight, left-handed only. Having reached an atop position above the suspect, who kept trying to alligator-roll under me to fling me off and get on top of me, I quickly thought you need to kill him. I knew this fight was going to end up with somebody dead. I cant describe to you how that feels, when you consciously decide you are going to kill someone. You have to, or youre not going home. It was very surreal. I remember my vision narrowing in, my thoughts and emotions race to an unimaginable height. I clenched my fist (left-hand) around his exposed throat and I began to squeeze it as hard as I could. I squeezed it so hard, I could feel his throat crack in my hands. I began screaming at him wildly, youre going to die today! Over and over and over... The next thing I remember, were two officers (they will remain nameless, they know who they are) jumping over a parked car and pouncing on the suspect, who was now vomiting blood and choking. I stood up, covered in blood, uniform tattered, equipment everywhere and I just remember lights everywhere. Cruisers pulling up and officers running at the scene. I dont remember hearing sirens. Thats one odd thing. Everything slowed down. The large crowd was watching, some filming it with cameras or something. I cant quite recall it all. I remember just stumbling about aimlessly, as one officer (nameless) held onto me, as I just randomly started walking around. I couldnt figure out what was going on. I remember seeing the stab wound getting darker in color against my t-shirt, most of the black uniform shirt was torn and hanging off me, like a Tarzan cloth. I felt like everything was in slow-motion, as officers put my equipment together, gathering it from the streets. I remember one asking me, did he do that to you holster? The other officer pulled on the torn gun holster. I remember nodding yes, though I dont recall if I spoke. The entire moment was frozen in time. I was alive, kind of... I dont recall anything else, though I woke up in Mass General. I was wrapped and sutured and several guys were in my room. I wasnt in a coma or asleep, this is just the next thing I recall. Apparently, I stayed awake all along, though I have to admit, I have no idea what happened, who was there or even what the doctors and EMTs did for me. I was in the hospital for several days, then sent home to recover. I was on administrative leave. Now, getting home is when troubles started. I started having nightmares, tremors, crying fits sporadically. Id lose my temper for no reason, then forget Id even been upset. I had incredible paranoia and anxiety that felt like an 18-wheeler sitting on my chest. I couldnt breathe, Id go lay in bed and just stare out my window at the busy streets and markets. Every day was hell beyond belief, and then it was time to sleep again. The girlfriend I had living with me at the time, left me. And being alone increased the intensity of what I was experiencing. The physical injury healed and unfortunately I now have chronic stomach troubles, however the real damage was in my head. Eventually, I put the uniform back on and tried to return to duty. I was physically healed but mentally not. My return to duty was a battle for Tommy Nee and the union, as my civil service record noted now chronically injured officer and frankly, they were right. I wasnt ok. And I was just beginning a battle to save my life. This time, it was me versus me. One night, I had taken a shower and sat in my bedroom. Alone. Crying... I was cleaning my gun. And I began to stare at it in my hand. Wild thoughts ran through my head. Dark, wild, racing thoughts. I could see the shining of the slide and gripping on the top. I slowly examined how nicely it fit in my hand. And everything got really quiet. I dont recall hearing anything at all. Just the most serene silence. As fate would have it, the theme song to Monday Night Raw blasted on loudly through my TV. It snapped my attention in quickly and I tossed my gun on the mattress. I picked up the phone, calling a certain friend (he knows who he is) and from that point on, I was into the hands of the Boston Police Stress Unit back when it was a small house in Mattapan. Then, I was in the hands of the On-Site Academy when it was in Gardner MA. I stayed for weeks at a time. Facing my demons, not running. Not surrendering. Not allowing myself to quit. Rapid-eye movement desensitization was amazing. The people, like Joan, Larry, Kevin Tape and others like Kathy Minehan were just beyond words. They gave me my life back. It wasnt over, after all. Today, Im unfortunately retired off the job, as my physical injury and stomach troubles remain, also spinal bones were broken and removed that were undiagnosed originally because all attention was on the stab wound. So, Im kinda banged up. Lol... But the On-Site Academy now has its newest site in Westminster MA. They are seeing, helping, nurturing, counseling the heroes that quietly suffer the agonies the job can bring. They help PD, FD, EMS from all over the country!! They helped Oklahoma City first-responders after Timothy McVeigh, they have helped NYPD/NYFD following 9/11. And so many more! And when you get well, rediscover your lost smile, you leave behind a patch. Your patch anonymously goes on the many boards they have hanging. Every department is there. In their FB page, I see my own patch. They are there to listen, to hear you, to cry with you, to guide you. They are experts, trained in trauma, crisis intervention, PTSD... And they donate their time to you all. Free! Because they love you too. And so do I. I sent out invites to everyone tonight, to LIKE the On-Site Academy facebook page. Please, LIKE it and look at it. Someone killed themselves yesterday. And they couldve maybe been here instead. I dont know, but I really dont want any of you being next. Please... if this story helps even one person, then Im so glad to have shared it with you all. Im not ashamed. And I left behind great honor in my own name and reputation. I was not weak, I was unbelievably strong. And so are all of you. https://facebook/OnSiteAcademy --Retired Boston Police Officer Kevin Pishkin
Posted on: Sat, 15 Nov 2014 14:24:45 +0000
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