The man, finally letting his sister in the door, says, "It's all over. Sorry about the mess."
I arrive at the home about 12 minutes later, slipping through fire fighters. The man is curled up on the floor, not responsive. The man's sister thrusts an armload of empty bottles to me.
"He took these!"
Oh. You're kidding.
I do the paramedic thing - the usual stuff with all the initials - BSI, CBG, EKG, ET, IV - and as we're rolling to the hospital and I'm calling in my report I suddenly feel like I'm having an out of body experience.
When did this become comfortable for me? I remember starting out last June I thought I was going to feel brand new everyday. I'm glad I've finally gotten use to this nonsense.
Of course, by saying this, I'm now tempting fate.
WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO STIR THE SHIT?
PS - If you're going to kill yourself it's really hard to screw up jumping off something tall.
EDIT - Ok, now on the newswire some guy survived a 500 foot fall, so I guess that's out too. God damnit.