Have you ever said something hoping to make an impression, have an effect or for pure shock value? Some (including the author) started early using a word that, by all accounts, is crass at the very least. As a youngster, the first time my parents heard me drop the f-bomb, I escaped with a brief lecture and warning. Parental guidance worked, reserving the expletive for circumstances out of their earshot and counting on self-control to save me from corporal punishment or grounding.
That word popped up again sitting in front of a television. Like many, I am drawn to the media seeking news and information on the conflict in Ukraine. The f-bomb is now inaudible, a talent that came with ageing. I am over the pursuit of shock value.
My use of the word is quite visceral. Like many first responders, dispatchers and healthcare workers reading this, we have witnessed horrific scenes of trauma and violence. Emergency responders have the added stressor of seeing the rawest sights in the field where the incident occurred, giving greater context to human suffering. Just look up the term P.T.S.D.
Stories and images of past conflicts should be an education intended to reduce or eliminate future confrontations. The whole notion of learning from the past seems like a perfect solution to the innocent. I recall mom, a history major in university, saying the world’s biggest mistake was allowing history to repeat itself, citing several examples in her time. Society is, in my opinion, on the cusp of a not so instant replay.
Despite being forewarned by newscasters of disturbing images during repeated coverage of Ukraine’s plight, I was unprepared for what lay ahead. Generally, media coverage of graphic events is cleansed by producers and legal pundits, intending to protect broadcasters and networks from the legal recourse dispensed by broadcasting regulators. Don’t get me wrong, I am definitely not advocating for the censorship of what we are witnessing. We can use the reality check! However, shielding our children from the details for their safety is still high on my values.
Action-filled video evidence of bombs exploding destroying buildings, cars, and roads is dramatic and should sober us all watching from afar nestled in armchairs sipping a beverage in safety. The real impact for me has been the colourful video panning past bodies lying in the street and small childrens’ outlines beneath blood-soaked flannel blankets in the hallways of makeshift hospitals. The memory is, at best, fixed in my mind.
Causing me the most anguish beyond the carnage are the recurring vignettes of the extended victims of the war. Crying children alone on the road walking towards an uncertain fate. An innocent, frightened child cradled in her mother’s arms, eating an Oreo cookie, something I and any parent can relate to. Mothers and fathers crying, unsure what their next steps should be to protect their families.
Separating families for me was a distant thought portrayed in historical text and photographs framing past disasters and military campaigns. I couldn’t have imagined fathers holding then handing off their screaming, crying infants as they remain to protect their country while I live in a free country. The sights and sounds of husbands loading their wives and children onto busses and trains bound for adjacent lands, hoping for their safe passage, have had me in tears.
I have a friend that volunteered for overseas military service to our country nearly twenty years ago following September 11. His descriptions outlining the experience were heartbreaking and dramatic though I now realize I was getting the cleansed version. There is nothing like seeing war firsthand. Every sense that carried me through a career in pre-hospital care would be overwhelmed in a battle. Those that serve our country have my most profound respect.
We should all be asking ourselves how much of our history we are prepared to repeat before coming to our collective senses and doing whatever it takes to resolve this conflict. The clock is ticking. The costs in every aspect are mounting.
Financial burdens can be recovered over time. The human cost to the victims of war will never be restored. Time and distance will ease the pain for the rest of the world but not for moms and dads, sisters and brothers caught in the battles, and the lineage could go on and on. What will it take?
It is not my place or station to take a political stand. Wishing others would do horrible things to retaliate in kind is beyond comprehension as I sit here in Canada. I have seen people commit violent acts against others in a free country. The effects are life-changing and life-ending. I don’t wish the same in the name of freedom, though it may come to that.
I hope that our world leaders will quickly bring this situation to an end. The weight is on their shoulders to make some difficult decisions. The added financial and human expense will be the last thing some remember when this is over. We will have the luxury of looking in from the outside. The free world bears some responsibility here.
It would be naïve to expect an immediate fix to this escalating contest. I shudder to think just what the statistics will reveal when we reflect in years to come. Fingers crossed, I will bite my tongue, resisting the urge to unleash a planeload of f-bombs. I apologize for the inference. What will it take to draw the leaders together to resolve this catastrophe?
In the interim, the Ukrainian community could use our help. I am aware of two organizations and have arms-length acquaintances serving with both now. They are Global Medic, a group of dedicated paramedics. Secondly, Red Cross Canada has been operating in times of conflict for over a century. Both causes are focused on helping the war-torn region and will make a difference. Use the links to show your support. Thanks.
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