Call to Action –– Canada-Wide Operational Stress Injuries Survey

Call to Action –– Canada-Wide Operational Stress Injuries Survey
S’il vous plaît, consultez la version française de ce courriel ci-dessous.

Hello All,

A week ago the Canadian Institute for Public Safety Research and Treatment (CIPSRT) released the first national survey to assess operational stress injury (OSI) symptoms for Canadian First Responders and other Public Safety Personnel.

Participating in this anonymous survey will help provide critically-needed information about OSI symptom prevalence (e.g., symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, panic) for Canadian First Responders and other Public Safety Personnel. The survey can also assess interactions between stress, symptoms, your family, and your workplace.
Numbers matter. We currently don’t have reliable data on OSI symptom prevalence rates. We are counting on you to participate and encourage others to participate because doing so provides evidence for engaging strategies and allocating resources to support mental health for all Canadian First Responders and other Public Safety Personnel.
Whatever your mental health, your responses will help everyone in need.

Please distribute this e-mail and the attached document to all of your currently serving personnel and encourage them to distribute ensuring all personnel are invited. A subsequent survey for retired members is being planned for distribution as soon as possible.

For more information on the survey and on CIPSRT, please refer to the attached document or visit http://www.justiceandsafety.ca

A formal invitation to participate in the survey is attached. We sincerely hope you choose to participate, therein supporting yourself and your peers, and allowing us to advocate for appropriate resources to support public safety mental health.

Thank you all again for your ongoing help, support, and patience through this process.

If you have questions or comments please contact Steve Palmer, University of Regina ssteve.palmer@uregina.ca or 306-535-8365

Additional information regarding CIPSRT is available on the website http://www.justiceandsafety.ca

Appel à l’action –Sondage à travers le Canada sur les traumatismes liés au stress opérationnel

Bonjour,

Il y a une semaine L’Institut canadien de recherche et de traitement en sécurité publique (ICRTSP) lancer le premier sondage national pour évaluer les symptômes de traumatismes liés au stress opérationnel (TSO) chez les premiers répondants et les autres membres du personnel de la sécurité publique.

Votre participation à ce sondage anonyme contribuera à fournir des informations importantes sur la prévalence des TSO (symptômes de stress post-traumatique, dépression, anxiété, par exemple) chez les premiers répondants et les autres membres du personnel de la sécurité publique au Canada. Le sondage pourra aussi évaluer la corrélation entre le stress, les symptômes, votre famille et votre travail.
Les chiffres parlent. Nous n’avons aujourd’hui aucune donnée fiable sur le taux de prévalence des TSO. Nous comptons sur vous pour participer et encourager d’autres à participer, car ce faisant, vous apporterez les éléments de preuve nécessaires à établir des stratégies et à attribuer les ressources pour aider la santé mentale de tous les premiers répondants et les autres membres du personnel de la sécurité publique au Canada.
Quelle que soit votre santé mentale, vos réponses aideront tous ceux qui en ont besoin.

Veuillez diffuser ce courriel et les pièces jointes à tous vos employés actuellement en service et encouragez-les à le faire suivre aux autres, afin que tous les membres du personnel soient invités. On planifie distribuer, dès que possible, un sondage ultérieur aux membres du personnel à la retraite.

Pour plus d’informations sur le sondage ou sur l’ICRTSP, veuillez consulter le document ci-joint ou visiter le site http://www.justiceandsafety.ca.

Une invitation officielle à participer au sondage sera envoyée le 1er septembre. Nous espérons sincèrement que vous déciderez d’y participer, pour votre bien et celui de vos pairs, et ainsi nous permettre de faire valoir le besoin d’obtenir les ressources nécessaires pour soutenir la santé mentale en sécurité publique.

Si vous avez des questions ou des commentaires s’il vous plaît contacter Steve Palmer, University of Regina steve.palmer@uregina.ca or 306-535-8365

Des informations supplémentaires concernant ICRTSP est disponible sur le site Web http://www.justiceandsafety.ca
Je vous remercie à nouveau de votre confiance, de votre appui constant et de votre patience tout au long de ce processus.
Je vous remercie sincèrement à l’avance de votre collaboration.

Salutations,
L’équipe ICRTSP

Copyright © 2016 Collaborative Centre for Justice and Safety, All rights reserved.
All CIPSRT Stakeholders

Our mailing address is:
Collaborative Centre for Justice and Safety
3737 Wascana Parkway
Regina, Sk S4S 0A2
Canada

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University of Regina paper reveals more help needed for first responders suffering from PTSD and other traumas

A newly released paper, developed by University of Regina researcher, Dr. Nick Carleton, in partnership with members of the Canadian Institute for Public Safety Research and Treatment (CIPSRT) and supported by the Canadian Association of Police Governance (CAPG), the Paramedic Association of Canada (PAC) and the Canadian Association of Chiefs of Police (CACP), finds that more needs to be done to help Canada’s first responders and other public safety personnel who are dealing with trauma often associated with their work.

 

Peer Support and Crisis-Focused Psychological Intervention Programs in Canadian First Responders: Blue Paper, evaluates the peer support and psychological intervention programs already being offered to help those who often confront death, violence, and threats to their own lives at work, sometimes on a daily basis.

 

“We found that there is a drastic need for more research assessing the impact of the programs that are currently offered to our police, paramedics, and fire and rescue personnel,” says Carleton. “Currently there is very little, if any evidence available proving the effectiveness of any specific program. This is harmful to the well-being of our first responders.”

 

Carleton says his team found that while first responders and other public safety personnel appreciate the programs that are available to them, having evidence-based, consistent programming across the country will provide greater benefits.  

 

“The mental health of our people is at risk. This year alone, 26 Canadian first responders have taken their own lives. At the current rate this may be the worst year for suicides, surpassing the 40 first responders who died last year,” says Mario Harel, president of CACP.  “This has to change.”

 

Rob Stephanson, president of CAPG, says the release of the Blue Paper is a first step in a long-term commitment to supporting Canadian first responders and other public safety personnel. “The pending Prevalence Survey being released in September is the critical next step.”

 

Carleton’s next step is to release a national survey which will help his team gain a better understanding of the impact that work stress and symptoms have on first responders and their families. They aim to create supports for the mental health of all public safety personnel.

 

“The work of Dr. Carleton and his team sets the stage for the creation of more uniform supports for the mental health of all our public safety personnel,” says Pierre Poirier, executive director of PAC. “The recommendations in the Blue Paper are necessary as the effects of daily traumas put our first responders at risk for psychological challenges, including post-traumatic stress, depression, anxiety, and anger. It’s my hope that the survey will help researchers better understand the impacts this work can have, and move forward in identifying what is required to support the recognition, prevention, intervention and treatment of mental health concerns facing Canadian first responders.”

 

Access the Blue Paper at: http://www.justiceandsafety.ca/

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RIP Const. Jean-Pascal Nolin

We write this note with a very heavy heart, we have lost another RCMP member, Const. Jean-Pascal Nolin, a 10-year veteran of the force, reportedly parked his cruiser at the Metcalfe Street side entrance to the Thomas D’Arcy McGee building, between Sparks and Queen streets, then walked in to the offices of the force’s A Division Parliament Hill detachment, located in the building, and shot himself. He leaves behind a spouse and two young children.
Our hearts go out to Const. Jean-Pascal Nolin family and all those who knew, worked with and loved him, all of whom are struggling to deal with the aftermath of suicide.
Please know that we at Families of the RCMP for PTSD Awareness are devastated and we are working tirelessly to do all we can to stop these tragedies from occurring.
We send a plea to each and every one of you to reach out to those who are retired or those you know are struggling with PTSD, to both the members and their families, and let them know they are not alone, that you care, we care and we are all are here for each other.
RIP Const. – You and your contribution to Canada and society will not be forgotten.
Families of the RCMP for PTSD Awareness

Source

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Above & Beyond

Her job was to watch child pornography and help catch the people making it. Like many Police Officers She saw too much.

The single-storey building is constructed almost entirely of glass. Sitting less than 400 metres from cars and trucks racing down a busy expressway, there’s no sign outside to identify its purpose. Inside, cubicles are arranged in pods of four, colleagues working back-to-back. Managerial offices tightly surround the sterile pods.Screen Shot 2015-11-19 at 11.21.44 AM

The air in the building is unpredictable—some spots are warm enough to make you sweat, while across the room you’re reaching for a jacket. Everyone eats, drinks and exercises in the same space, never straying from the job.

It was here, at an Internet Child Exploitation (ICE) unit, where Kristine Lacelle worked for just over two years. Canada has five RCMP-operated ICE units, and an additional four integrated RCMP municipal units. Lacelle doesn’t want to reveal the exact unit where she served because she feels its past and present employ- ees “have enough on their plates already” without being pulled into the spotlight and potentially singled out for criticism.

Walking past Lacelle on the street, it would be hard to guess she’s a 10-year RCMP veteran. Not particularly tall, with her brown hair cut shoulder-length, the only hint of her past is her quick, deliberate stride. Once you strike up a conversation, she’s the kind of person you feel comfortable talking to, like a close friend you never knew you had. If you bring up hockey and you’re not a Habs fan, a friendly argument is guaranteed; her blue eyes flicker with amusement. She’s open, amiable, and always ready with a sarcastic quip that’ll make you laugh. All her life, she’s wanted to help people. The RCMP seemed to be the way to do it.

But on Dec. 8, 2011, she was far from the proud 25-year-old recruit who graduated with Troop 7 at Depot Division in Regina nine years earlier. In a break from routine, the ICE staff members filed into a conference room to watch a broad- cast of incoming RCMP commissioner Bob Paulson’s formal induction.

The Change of Command ceremony was full of tradition and pomp. Watching officers and veterans parade in their red serge, Lacelle fought back tears. For the past few weeks she hadn’t been herself, eating lunch at her desk, avoiding others. Her colleagues had been leaving—sick leave, maternity leave, and transfers—and her support system followed them out the door.

Each day dozens of new case files streamed across her desk, each one showing innocent kids being sexually assaulted, over and over and over again. Now, the sight of the red serge finally unleashed two years’ worth of bottled-up frustration and anxiety. She felt unworthy and adrift from the proud tradition on display.

“I went into my supervisor’s office at that point, and just totally broke down in tears and told her flat out I didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know who I was anymore. I have no business carrying a gun on the streets. I felt totally lost,” she recalls.

On a cool, windy day, Dec. 11, 2011, she left work on sick leave, not realizing it would be for the last time. Like many on the force, she had seen too much.

Lacelle was born Kristine Brockman in Moncton, N.B. When she was five, the Brockmans moved to Saskatchewan, where she attended school in St. Benedict, just off Highway 20 between Humboldt and Prince Albert. The school downsized after she completed Grade 7, so she finished high school in Middle Lake, a short 10-minute drive away. She graduated from the University of Saskatchewan with a bachelor of science in kinesiology, working summers at a fly-in fishing camp in northern Saskatchewan. It was then that Lacelle knew she wanted to be an RCMP officer.

“For me it was always the idea of helping others because, even growing up, I felt like I was a go-to person somebody would come to for advice. I wasn’t like the typical popular person or anything like that, but people always felt comfortable tell- ing me their problems and I’d try to come up with a solution,” she explains.

After a year-and-a-half of tests, paperwork, and plenty of waiting, Lacelle was accepted as a recruit. When she graduated from the training academy in November 2003, her first posting was in Tuktoyaktuk, N.W.T—known simply as ‘Tuk’ among the locals—a community of some 800 beside the Beaufort Sea, near the Yukon border. She headed north with her husband and for the next two years took her place among a small crew of five that staffed the detachment.

Just before her kids were born, the couple moved again, but this time closer to home. She had her daughter and son in Swift Current, Sask., in 2005 and 2007. Two years later she applied to an ICE unit. She was interested in both help- ing victims of sexual assault and new technology, so it seemed like a natural fit. Ten months later, in September 2009, the Lacelles packed their bags, leaving behind their Saskatchewan roots.

Moving and starting a new job isn’t easy at the best of times. Lacelle had lost her mother-in-law earlier that year. The kids, aged two and four, were leaving their first home. They were saying goodbye to family members who were very close.

She wasn’t worried about herself, though. After all, she had a new job, where she would be meeting new people and working through new challenges. The tough- er road faced her husband and kids, she thought. They had to adapt and create new lives in a strange city. But it wasn’t her family that would gradually fall apart after the move—it was Lacelle.

Police departments around the world began forming ICE units in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Lacelle started her time on the unit by working in investigations, one of four main sections alongside research, technology and triage. A file comes in and officers determine if it is actually child sexual abuse material. From there, they try to find out where it originated. Eventually, all the information collected gets passed on to officers on the street, who make arrests. also worked as triage manager, tasked with sorting all incoming mate- rial. Her unit was the contact point for any Canadian content found around the world, from the United States, to the U.K., to the Netherlands, to Russia, and beyond. There are just too many files to investigate every one, so it’s the triage section’s job to determine if a child is at immediate risk. Some files end up at the bottom of the pile, especially if it’s just a screenshot. Where there is a strong possibility victims are being actively abused, the force needs to take immediate action.

No matter the job assignment, officers can spend hours looking at horrible things. It could be text, audio, video, thousands of pictures, or any possible combination of these items. Reports arrived every day. Combined with the isolated location, and unpredictable building climate, it was far from an ideal work environment.

“Thank God some of the gals and guys I worked with were who they were and fantastic. But it was just… it was just bad,” Lacelle’s voice trails off, looking away as the memories come rushing back.

Sometimes they would be watching a video or slideshow of images, when someone would hit pause and say, “Okay, we’ve got to talk about this because that really bugged me.” There was one particular supervisor who always made sure there were regular coffee breaks out in the garage—a place to cope, away from the glare of computer screens.

Like many officers, Lacelle had started using dark humour to cope with cer- tain situations in the early days of her service. It was how they got through the job—laughing about brutal scenes, usually in an inappropriate manner. It didn’t feel right, but the file had to be investigated from start to finish. It was a way to get through it.

And once they got through it, there was no time for a human discussion about what they’d seen—they went on to the next call or file. For a long time the dark humour, combined with physical activity, seemed to work. But after about a year- and-a-half, things started to slowly fall apart. The coffee breaks and chats stopped, while the workload increased.

“I was starting to lose interest in activities, and quitting sports. I found I was getting muscle injuries quicker. It was like my body was breaking down as a warning to tell me that my mind was breaking down,” says Lacelle.

Her work days weren’t material for normal human conversation—and understandably she doesn’t discuss the work in detail. She compares it to asking a veteran if they’ve ever killed someone. It’s just not something you ask about.

“These are innocent kids…We’re talking babies that are being sexually assaulted,” she says.

Despite countless hours researching and tracking down offenders, the number of files continually expanded. When Lacelle started, there were approximately 3,000 files. By the time she left at the end of 2011, there were more than 5,300 files in the system, each potentially involving multiple offenders and victims.

Thousands of files, thousands of kids and thousands of offenders. And not enough hours in the day. With supportive management and regular breaks in the work day, the job can be tough but manageable, says Lacelle. Without that support, it can lead to feelings of helpless despair.Dr. Carolyn Burns started working with the RCMP as a volunteer victim sup- port worker. For more than 16 years, she attended scenes of traumatic events and provided support to victims and witnesses. She’s now a registered clinical counsellor in Langley, B.C., after writing her master’s on coping mechanisms among ICE investigators, and her PhD on their decisions to access psychological services. Today, she specializes in treating first responders and people suffering from secondary trauma.

She spoke with many officers over her time volunteering for the RCMP, and during the hours of interviews for her studies. It wasn’t surprising to discover that tracking child exploiters on the Internet can be extremely intense and frustrating, leaving many investigators feeling powerless and helpless. The work can drag on for months without results and follow officers home.

“Some of them talk about, after spending a long time viewing either pictures or video, they’ll have auditory flashbacks, hallucinations,” says Burns.

Because most of their work can’t be discussed outside office walls, there is a strong reliance on co-workers, Burns learned. Many also use exercise to cope. One woman simply ran and ran and ran until she stopped feeling angry. However, there’s only so much officers can do on their own, Burns says. Supervisors and units need to create a supportive environment.

Not everyone who needs help gets it. Years of research have shown Burns that, while there are good mental health treatments out there, they’re not always easy to access. Many people just want to talk, but they don’t know where to go. Will people understand? Is it the right time to open up? After seeing society’s worst elements on a daily basis, who can they even trust?

On May 1, 2014, the RCMP launched a new five-year mental health strat- egy. It includes an agreement with Health Canada to provide support to officers and their immediate family members through Employee Assistance Services. When Lacelle went on leave, the RCMP did not provide any face-to-face counselling, instead relying on referrals to outside professionals and Operational Stress Injury clinics designed for and run by the Canadian Armed Forces.

The RCMP is developing a peer-to-peer support program, but most members still have to go through the employee assistance 1-800 number without knowing who will answer. The RCMP, like any police agency, has its own unique culture that makes people hesitate before they talk to a stranger.

“There’s a time and a place as police officers—any first responder—where you go there to do the job… you need to be in control,” says Lacelle. “But yet there needs to be a time that you can just be a human being and say, ‘That was really fucked up’ and process what you’ve witnessed.”

Denied permission for a compassionate transfer, Lacelle nonetheless moved herself and her family back to Saskatoon. It was a life-saving decision, she explains. “In my mind, it was either move back and risk the consequences of going against authority, or stay and wind up six feet underground,” she says.

Two weeks after walking out the doors and leaving the ICE unit behind, Lacelle and her family were celebrating Christmas back in Saskatchewan. But Lacelle wasn’t herself—she knew it, and so did everyone else. In the new year, the

“I went into my supervisor’s office at that point and just totally broke down in tears and told her flat out I didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know who I was anymore. I have no business carrying a gun on the streets. I felt totally lost.” recovery process began: twice-a-week sessions with a psychologist, trying different meds and just trying to cope and function during the day, all with two kids depending on her.Screen Shot 2015-11-19 at 11.24.14 AM

Family was important. She went home by herself to see her parents and sisters, and out to B.C. to visit her aunt in the months that followed. “I called these emergency trips because I was suicidal,” she says.

But while she had strong support from her relatives, her employer was another story. The RCMP paid for her psychological services but that’s about it, she says. Lacelle gleaned the impression that emails, benefits, and salary changes might be easier to get if she were physically injured. Dealing with mental illness seemed different. Lacelle was cut off. It was like she just disappeared.

The bureaucratic policies and procedures didn’t help, either. Trying to get a compassionate transfer back to Saskatchewan was a nightmare. Nobody seemed to know who was doing what. She’d been taught how to fire a weapon and track criminals, but not how to navigate the labyrinth of her own workplace, or to advocate for herself.

“It makes me think back to training, you know. It’s kind of a game… meant to kind of break you down to a point and then build you back up (how) they want you. But in all of that training, you’re never allowed to basically question authority. Ever,” she says.

Implementing a mental health care strategy is one thing. Making it work is another. While there is plenty of policy on paper, it’s not reaching the people who need help. Since 2006, 32 retired or serving RCMP members have committed suicide. There is no breakdown of the causes. Burns recommends setting out clear directions and implementing regular follow-ups. That can start with people having the right information, and who genuinely care, she says.

Opening spread and this page: Kristine Lacelle continues her recovery in Saskatchewan.

Lacelle now lives in Saskatoon, where her recovery continues. “You basically want to crawl into a hole and die. And how you get back out… it’s different for everybody. But so far, I’m out,” she says.

RCMP officers have some of the toughest jobs in the country—including those on the ICE units—and it takes a certain kind of person to do the job. “They feel so responsible for the work. They’re such a dedicated, amazing group of people,” says Burns.

That sense of dedication and responsibility pulls officers through the day, but it can also push them down the hole of despair. Since taking a medical discharge in February 2015, Lacelle is committed to helping those who suffer in silence by talk- ing openly about her experience. “I feel I can just give that voice to those who aren’t able,” she says. “My hope is that things have changed since I walked out those doors.

by BRADY KNIGHT photos by MEGAN LACELLE

From The Crow Fall 2015

Link to see full Magazine 

Crash Impact

Silence.

Cavernous, uncomfortable silence.

You know the kind – it’s deafening. There is an elephant in the room, but no one wants to acknowledge the beast. And certainly, no one wants to talk about how the beast is affecting his or her work, home life, or feelings.

This is the kind of silence heard when a few Traffic members, Reconstructionists, OCC operators, and clerical staff were asked about how serious injury or fatal crash files impact them. Silence.

But listen…

Quietly, one member responds. Then another, and another. Slowly, whispered conversations echo loudly in the silence, and in our emotions. Senior members who have been impacted by repeated exposure to serious injury/fatal crashes and new members who are pro-actively fighting to prevent long-term impact from dealing with these types of files are beginning to speak out about what it takes to remain healthy while doing this job.

Do you hear?

Serious injury/fatal crashes have “made me appreciate how precious and fragile life really is. In a blink of an eye, and because of human error, be it “accidental” or with criminal intent, people’s lives are changed forever. Being sorry doesn’t cut it. You can’t undo dead.”

Another member notes, “My training prepared me to attend the scene and deal with the scene but no amount of training can prepare you to see your first dead body and the carnage you may encounter at a scene.”

And another member expands on that thought, noting surprise at the “looky lous” because a scene on a public road is challenging to contain, as well as the difficulty the family of the deceased often have in comprehending the implications of the incident.

Being a Traffic member attending crashes has a different impact than attending domestics, bar fights, or even homicides. These files “tend to be more senseless than other injuries police deal with as generally there is no intent to injure anyone.”

“…we also see a lot of good people have a momentary lapse in judgement and make a stupid mistake. Unfortunately that mistake can often prove to be deadly.”

“I feel the likelihood of developing PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) is higher for Traffic members than for regular members, as we attend fatal MVI’s more often than other members attend death scenes. The odds of fatalities increase with vehicle usage on our roads, so it’s not going away.”

The conversations and emails also offer practical ideas of how to alleviate the immediate impact of serious injury/fatal crashes on members and staff, which will also reduce the development of complications like PTSD further along in a policing career.

Educate yourself.

Read “Emotional Survival for Law Enforcement” by Dr. Gilmartin, which explains the physical and psychological impact of police work. The book is suitable for members and their families. “Knowledge is power.”

Talk.

Our human capacity to deal with stressful times amazingly increases as we talk about thoughts and feelings. Seems too simple, but it works. Your brain and emotions are then able to categorize those thoughts and feelings appropriately for filing so they stay part of the job, not become mixed up with “normal life.”

Talk at work.

Take advantage of informal & formal debriefings at the office. “Get help, victim services, doctor, talk to someone (you trust). Don’t bottle it up.”

Different people have varying views of using black humour as part of the office talk. Black humour, explains one member, is a “valuable coping method – know your audience – (it’s) not prejudicial or racial but lightening the mood.” A younger member notes, “Black humour is present and I occasionally take part, but it seems forced and expected (as in: it wouldn’t exist unless it was already expected). I feel it does little to help or harm in my opinion, it can be quite funny though, in a morbid sort of way.” While an older member says, “For me (black humour) is a vital component to my mental health. I am very careful of the audience and alive to a time and place for such.” And another member comments, “After seeing so many collisions it’s almost like we try to desensitize the situations so we can get the job done. I feel that somewhere down the road people call (that desensitization) PTSD.”

Talk to professionals

“Though I didn’t believe I had been affected seriously I felt it would be a good idea as I had attended several serious collisions in my short career, and it did help to talk to someone who you knew could handle the details. I feel I have access to any help I would need should I have issues.”

Talk to family and friends.

“Be in relationships, do not isolate.”

“Talk, not about details but about the impact, the feelings, the things I noticed or that caused me frustration”

Have a life outside work

“Walking the dogs provides so much for me – exercise, companionship, nature, and it all helps me cope.”

“I try to keep work separate from my personal life. Police tend to talk about work when off duty. I play hockey with other officers… but rarely do I attend social events specific to police.”

“At home the best thing for me is to stay active, I hate the gym but I’ll play just about any sport and I feel playing a team sport clears my mind from any negative thoughts.”

“I worry that if I don’t keep my personal life and my work life separate I will get caught up with (the impact of work) at home.”

Believe in the positives

There are also positives to being the one who responds to serious injury/fatal crashes.

“I am a very spiritual person and I rely on my faith in times such as this. I believe that, although I do not know “why” right now, one day all my questions will be answered, and then everything will make sense. I know I am not in charge and I don’t make the decisions.”

“…this is a job that someone has to do and that someone is me. Those involved tell me that they are glad I do what I do. My friends and acquaintances often say the same… I take some pride in that.”

“Follow-up makes a difference – assisting the family after the fact has made me a better member and a better person.”

Working in Traffic is “not just writing tickets. People see us in a negative light when we are writing tickets, but we have the opportunity to take seriously negative situations and be seen by the public in a more positive light, showing compassion and understanding.”

Serious injury/fatal crashes have definitive impacts on the members and support staff who work on them. As we talk about those impacts, and support one another in making healthy choices in our work and home lives, those impacts can change from negatives to positives.

Help break the silence.

– By Marnie Pohlmann

PTSD/OSI display for RCMP National Memorial Service, Sept 13th

For the first time there will be a PTSD/OSI display for RCMP National Memorial Service, Sunday, September 13 “Depot” Division, in Regina.
100 PTSD challenge coins that will be given away during the day.
The ceremony begins with a parade at 8:45 a.m. and is followed by a chapel service at 10 a.m. and a short ceremony at the Memorial Wall in the RCMP cemetery.
The RCMP Memorial Service is an annual event and an enduring tradition that started in the mid-1930s when RCMP members came to Sleigh Square to honour their fallen comrades.
The public and media are welcome to attend.

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Honour House Welcomes First Responders and Veterans With both Visible and Invisible Injuries

You may have heard of Ronald McDonald house, an organisation that provides free accommodation for the families of sick or injured children but did you know that there’s a similar place geared specifically towards our serving and retired RCMP and Municipal Police Officers and their families? Honour House provides free and safe accommodation for members of the Canadian Armed Forces, Emergency Services Personnel, Veterans and their families as they are forced to travel to the Metro Vancouver region for any kind of medical treatment. Guests can stay at Honour House, free of charge along with their spouses and children, whether it’s their immediate family member that needs treatment or themselves. To learn more, visit their website at www.honourhouse.ca

Honour House