There is an officer by the name of Mureen in S. California who posts on another board that I'm a member of and she posted this last night. She'll be o.k. but she's having a hard time emotionally dealing with it.
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I Took The Ride I Prayed I'd Never Have To Take Yesterday
I remember the medics calling my name; asking me what day it was; what was my age; and some other stuff before the lights went out again. I remember hearing a medic say to someone that my pupils were blown and the med unit turned a corner. I don't remember the sternum rub or them putting the O2 mask on. Or why.
It took the medics half an hour to stabilise me for transport and I was unconscious the entire time in the car park. I don't even remember getting shot. I don't remember the crowd. I don't remember being carried by a civilian to the back of my unit. I didn't even hear the sirens coming for me. I don't remember the IVs being started in the back of my patrol unit before I was loaded on the backboard to the gurney. My vest saved me and I have bruises and bruised ribs, but I'm alive. The rounds didn't penetrate my vest. I never saw where they came from.
I'm down for a couple weeks and I'm only sore.
Why I'm writing this is to thank all of you here who pray for us others here every day. I know I do. I'm sure I'm here today because of you.
Thank you very much. All I can offer is my thanks.