When the Sirens Pass

Hi, I’m Michael, and I’m a stroke survivor.

A Sound That Stops You

This morning, while walking to the gym, I heard a sound that’s now burned into my memory: the faint but unmistakable wail of an ambulance siren.

It was still dark, so I couldn’t yet see the lights, but the sound grew louder and closer. Soon, the flashing lights started reflecting off the windows around me. The ambulance— specifically a MICA unit — raced past, urgent and focused.

Without thinking, I crossed myself and whispered, “God speed.”

A Habit Formed From Experience

I’ve found myself doing that often these days. I’m not especially religious, but there’s something deeply human in the act of silently wishing well to the strangers in that ambulance — and to the people waiting for it.

Somewhere inside me, I’m always hoping that a higher power watches over the paramedics, and that they reach the “poor bastard” on the other end in time.

Because one day… that was me.

The Day Everything Changed

Almost three years ago, I woke up to find I had suffered a stroke in my sleep. With stroke, every minute matters. The clock starts ticking the moment it happens.

I don’t remember much from that morning. But my wife tells me the MICA unit arrived first. Not long after, the Mobile Stroke Unit (MSU) — better known as the stroke ambulance — followed.

The details are hazy. But I’ll never forget the calm, capable hands and kind voices of the paramedics who loaded me into the ambulance for the short ride to Box Hill Hospital. I remember the feeling of surrendering to their care — and the quiet hope that I was going to make it.

Every Siren Tells a Story

So now, whenever I hear a siren or see an ambulance rush past, I’m taken back to that moment.

Just for a second, I remember what it was like to need them.
And I silently hope that today’s patient gets the same care and the same chance I did.
That the paramedics arrive in time.
That the hospital is ready.
That they make it.

Thank God for the Ambos

I can’t name the paramedics who came for me that day. I probably never will. But I’ll never stop being grateful to them — or to all the other paramedics who show up, day in and day out, when lives are hanging in the balance.

So to all the Ambos:
Thank you.
God speed.