WATCH: A look into the life of a local paramedic
This everyday hero, who is on standby 24 hours, makes her job look easy. But she has seen the unimaginable.
It’s around midnight one evening in November when chaos erupts on CR Swart Drive following an earlier music event at Dries Niemandt Stadium.
Something has been stolen; a man tries to flee as a mob beats him. Glass bottles break, screams erupt and people panic.
Everyone, except for intermediate life support (ILS) paramedic Riëtte du Plessis (30).
When the crowd disperses she tends to the injured man calmly, with only her blue latex gloves as armour.
“He’s a P1, he’s critical,” she might be thinking, but her face shows no emotion. “How would a patient feel if we looked stressed?” she later explains.
This everyday hero, who is on standby 24 hours for SecPros Security, makes her job look easy. But she has seen the unimaginable.
“One of the worst things I ever saw was a little boy who got shot by his mother, who later shot herself,’’ she recalls. “There were Bible verses pasted on his bedroom wall and someone in the room kept weeping ‘he’s ice cold, he’s ice cold’.”
Despite all the accidents, drownings and suicides this Glen Marais resident has seen, she seems genuinely happy.
“It gets tough and I go through dips. Sometimes I struggle to sleep and I get flashbacks of all the deaths I’ve seen.”
In times like these, Riëtte turns to her fiancé, Elsjé Pretorius (24). The two met in an emergency room where Elsjé worked at the front desk.
Today, Elsjé works for a neurosurgeon. Who better to understand the long hours Riëtte has to work or to support her when days feel dark?
And days have been dark. When Riëtte was about 17 years old, she lost her mother to heart and kidney failure.
“I was mad at her and I was mad at God but everything happens for a reason and it makes you stronger. I think I became an ILS paramedic because of that, I want to save people.
“I miss my mother every day, I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing her,” she adds.
Luckily, Riëtte has Elsjé to support her.
“I also turn to God. Through prayer, I have become stronger.” She also has her colleagues, who have since become like family.
I watch them as they sip hot chocolate at a local garage. They chat and make jokes, the chaotic scene of earlier long forgotten. Then, barely 10 minutes later, a call comes in: “There’s been an accident,” and they chase off.
“It’s a passion,” Riëtte explains about her job. “It’s not about the money. It’s about the flashing red lights and being able to save someone’s life.”
And for that, we thank her.
