Don’t Kill a Firefighter Just Because You Are Stupid!

I have had a bad case of writers block and just haven’t been able to settle on a topic for a new post and the then rains came. Man did it rain here in Colorado for the last couple of days; it has rained on a biblical level. One area south of Colorado Springs received 9 inches of rain in four hours.

 

In addition, through all of this, I watched video after video on Facebook and local media of the devastation brought by the waters. We have been in a drought for a few years now with watering restrictions and constant warnings of how dire our water supply is. This storm won’t relieve our drought but will cause millions of dollars in damage and has already claimed three lives.

 

Having lived my entire life in Colorado Springs I recognize all the landmarks in the background of the videos but that is all I recognize. Many of the peaceful little creeks that ring my town have been transformed into actual rivers. We don’t have any rivers in Colorado Springs we have creeks generally most of these can be crossed easily by foot.

 

However, for the last few days, these creeks have been transformed into raging rivers even streets have been transformed into tributaries of our newly formed waterways and through it all, there is the ever-present fire truck. Each fire truck contains four firefighters and they have been at it for over 48 hours now.

 

Dedicated men and women that put themselves at risk for the benefit of others, which they are happy to do, in fact we live for big events like this. Each fire truck and each crew become roaming lifesavers and problem solvers. There isn’t a lot of time to react in many of the situations encountered, it is up to the company officer to make the call, and that to me is the essence of being a firefighter.

 

Sizes up a situation in seconds determine a course of action and go to work. This is the life of a firefighter; we are trained to react at with calm, safe, and educated guesses, yeah guesses. Calculated guesses based on years of experience and a Rolodex full of past outcomes. Many of the tasks that firefighters take on in these huge events are standard rescues. You see the firefighters in dry suits or turn out gear wadding through knee-deep water and carrying or leading stranded motorists to safety and the you see the incredible rescues like the one outside of Boulder Colorado. An entire span of road just dropped out from under three cars.

 

Now here is where training and practice come into play. Every year in the spring the Colorado Springs Fire Department stages swift water rescue classes. Crews are taken down to the Arkansas River, a favorite destination of tourists seek a white water thrill ride, and taught and refreshed on swift water rescue.

 

Generally a really fun day on the water and most years that is all it is a rehearsal for a date that never comes. However, the fire crews in Boulder had to use their skills to rescue three stranded and helpless citizens and what an amazing job they did. Pulling the last man out of his car just as it fell back into the water. Those kinds of rescues make it all worthwhile.

 

However, there are other rescues that occur and they are the senseless ones. These are the rescues of idiots’ people that apparently were born with no common sense whatever. These are the dolts that drive into flooded streets and think they can make it across a road that has ten, twelve inches of standing or running water on them.

 

These morons just drive right into the water believing their minivan has the miraculous ability of an amphibious Army vehicle. Oh and then the car begins to float, drift, and flood. Then this helpless twit crawls out on the hood or roof of the vehicle and screams for help. A completely unnecessary waste of resources that put firefighters and the public at risk. Firefighters lose their lives in these situations.

 

 

By Kevin Simpson
Denver Post Staff Writer

August 26, 2000– Water rescue experts nationwide contend that no amount of training or equipment could have saved Denver firefighter Robert Crump, whose spontaneous attempt to rescue a woman in swirling floodwaters cost him his life.

“I don’t think it’s possible to prepare for an improvised rescue,” says Don Cooper, deputy chief of the Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, Fire Department and secretary of the National Fire Protection Association’s technical rescue committee.

Although that assessment was echoed by other authorities, the Denver Fire Department will examine the circumstances of Crump’s death and try to learn from it.

“I think everyone on the job will look at flash floods differently, look at storm drains in a different light,” says Randy Atkinson, a spokesman for the Denver Fire Department and also president of the Colorado Professional Fire Fighters.

On Aug. 17, the 37-year-old Crump and fellow firefighter Will Roberts were directing traffic during a flash flood at East 50th Avenue and Colorado Boulevard when they saw Loretta Martinez stranded and clinging to a metal post.

The two waded into the intersection to retrieve the 45-year-old woman, but Crump was pulled under by the swirling waters of a 12foot-deep culvert. Roberts guided Martinez to safety and then, with a cable tied around his waist, tried in vain to locate his partner.

Crump’s body was found six hours later in a drainage ditch two blocks away.

“When you see somebody out there, by nature you have an inherent feeling that you have the duty to respond,” says Scott Frazier, commander of the Los Angeles Fire Department’s urban search and rescue unit. “When you see somebody in trouble, it becomes your moral obligation to do something. I can’t fault them.

“I applaud them.” Cooper emphasizes that Crump’s venture into the floodwaters with his partner should not be judged as a classic “water rescue” operation. Both firefighters were sent to the scene not to perform a rescue, but to manage traffic.

So please if you find yourself in a situation where crossing a flooded road seems like your only choice, don’t do it. don’t put yourself at risk or the firefighters that come to your rescue.

 

Is it Bull That Firefighters Might Die at Work on Any Day?

Over the course of my career and post retirement I have had more people than I can name ask me or imply that yes firefighting is a dangerous job, but you were never really at risk of death or that the idea a firefighter can die any day they go to work is kind of bull shit.

A part of me wants to agree with them. I know I only had a handful of times where I was in a close call. I had a hand gun shoved under my chin; I had a double barrel shotgun shoved in my guts by a drunk and crazed man in his underwear. I fell through a floor one time and was only saved by my airpack catching on a floor joist and a fellow firefighter that pulled me out of the hole.

My closest call was when a 15 foot tall stucco chimney fell over and crashed through the ceiling of a room I was working in. I had just enough time to push a junior firefighter out of the room and then was knocked unconscious by the falling debris.

I came to sitting on the tailboard of the ladder truck I was assigned to. I had no idea how I got there, but the driver informed me that I had emerged from the fire and he had talked me down a three story stair case. Three other brothers were also injured and we all got off pretty well intact.

I had my face piece knocked off by the impact and was unconscious for an unknown amount of time in the fire. I took a load of smoke and suffer from COPD today as a result (my smoking doesn’t help either).

So was I at risk every day? The simple answer is hell yes we are at risk every single time the bell goes off. So far this year 37 firefighters have died in the line of duty (LODD) and 83 died last year in the line of duty. I bet not one of them went to work on the day of their death thinking “Well today is the day I die”. They went to work just like every other day, probably loving that they got to go be a firefighter and thinking more about the fun they were going to have and hoping they were going to a good “Worker” that day.

Nothing better than a good working fire, a multiple alarm fire with all kinds of challenges and rescues, it doesn’t get better than that for us. I know it is sick that we call a fire “A good fire” when in fact there is no good fire for the people affected. But for us it is a good fire because we get to do “It”, we get to do what we train endlessly for, we get to fight fire.

The 37 deaths this year are varied in the many ways we die; from the 4 God bless them, their families, and their departments all, firefighters in Houston who burned to death in a collapse, 4 in West Texas blown up in an explosion and 2 more in Bryan Texas from collapse.

Firefighters have died from heart attacks while at work and the victims of this type of death range in age from 26 to 71. They have died in motor vehicle accidents, been hit by vehicles, and some just found dead in their beds from unknown causes. They range in age and experience from.

Probationary firefighter Anne M. Sullivan 24 years old and on the job for 4 months.

 

Captain George A. Turner, Jr.  60 with 30+ years on the job.

The last form of death and the one with very little coverage is at their own hands. Firefighters are killing themselves at alarming rates in America and no one really knows why.

Below is a list of the brave men and women who have died this year in service to their communities and to their fellow man. There is no doubt this list will grow not only for the rest of this year, but for as long as firefighters answer the bell.

God bless them all and thanks.

To date, 37 firefighter fatalities have been reported to USFA in 2013 as a result of incidents that occurred so far in 2013.

Name:   Robert Bebee                        

Rank: Engineer Operator

Age: 41                                                  Name:   Matthew Renaud

                                                              Rank: Captain

                                                              Age: 35

Name:   Robert H. Garner

Rank: Firefighter

Age: 29

                                                              Name:   Anne M. Sullivan

                                                              Rank:   Probationary Firefighter

                                                              Age: 24

Name: Stanley A. Wilson

Rank: Fire Rescue Officer

Age: 51

                                                              Name: Albert A. Nejmeh

                                                              Rank: Firefighter

                                                              Age: 59

Name: Brian Woehlke

Rank: Firefighter

Age: 29

                                                               Name: Daniel Davidson

                                                               Rank: Firefighter

                                                               Age: 26

Name: Stanley Martin Jr.

Rank: Assistant Fire Chief

Age: 71

                                                                Name: Gene Kirchner

                                                                Rank: Firefighter

                                                                Age: 24

Name: Dale Scott Queen

Rank: Firefighter

Age: 37

                                                                 Name: Morris Bridges

                                                                 Rank: Firefighter

                                                                 Age: 41

Name: Cody Dragoo

Rank: Firefighter

Age: 50

                                                                 Name: Joseph Pustejousky

                                                                 Rank: Firefighter

                                                                 Age: Pending

Name: Douglas Snokhous

Rank: Firefighter

Age: 50

                                                                Name: Robert Snokhous

                                                                Rank: Firefighter

                                                                Age: 48

Name: Lawrence “Lance” A. Stone

Rank: Firefighter

Age: 37

                                                                Name: James B. Clark

                                                                Rank: Lieutenant

                                                                Age: 56

Name: Harold Hollingsworth

Rank: Assistant Fire Chief

Age: 47

                                                                Michael R. Goodwin, Sr.

                                                                Captain

                                                                Age: 53

Name: John M. Janos

Rank: Firefighter

Age: 57

                                                                 Name: Michael L. Broz

                                                                 Rank: Firefighter

                                                                 Age: 58

Name: George A. Turner, Jr.

Rank: Captain

Age: 60

                                                                 Name: Lonnie Nutt

                                                                 Rank: Firefighter Engineer

                                                                 Age: 49

Name: Donald Mize

Rank: Firefighter Cadet

Age: 62

                                                                 Name: Christopher Brown

                                                                   Rank: Firefighter

                                                                   Age: 39

Name: Nate Fruin

Rank: Firefighter

Age: 22

                                                                   Name: David Schnepp

                                                                   Rank: Firefighter

                                                                   Age: 43

Name: Claudia Sokol

Rank: Fire Police Officer

Age: 55

                                                                   Name: Jonathan Wayne Burgess

                                                                   Rank: Firefighter

Age: 33

Firefighters Only Rent Firehouses.

More and more of my firemen friends are retiring, this is the result of hiring large recruit academies in the early 80’s. I have gone to a few retirement parties to wish my friends well in retirement land and to see other retirees.

 

Retirement parties serve many different purposes outside of the larger event the retirement itself. I wasn’t going to allow my crew to have a party on my behalf for a few reasons. First because of how I came to retire, retirement wasn’t actually in my plans, in fact I left 5 years ahead of my schedule due to my alcoholism.

 

I won’t retell that whole story but suffice it to say that I showed up to work hung over smelling of alcohol and was asked to retire rather than be fired. Because of that I didn’t have a lot of pride left in at the end of my career. In fact I suffered massive guilt and shame in the end.

 

So why would anyone want to come say good bye to me? I was a drunk and got caught at work, no honor in that I told myself. I didn’t want to suffer what I had seen others go through simply because of what others thought of them. I worked with one fireman that had put in his 25 years and was going. He didn’t want a party and so we honored his request and on his last day after all that time passed quietly.

 

So quietly that the only person that did show for the non-party was a Deputy Chief and he was the operations Chief as that. The Chief rolled in on his motorcycle on a hot summer day, we were all in the kitchen having just finished lunch when he walked in. He was in street clothes and very nonchalant about his visit.

 

I offered the Chief a drink of water and after a few minutes of light banter he reached in his pocket and carelessly pulled out a small leather billfold and flipped it across the table to “Blue” the fireman that was serving his last day after 25 years and said.

“There you go Blue, congratulations.”

 

Blue picked up the small billfold and opened it, it held a small gold badge and that was that. The Chief finished his water and was gone. I thought to myself is that it? After all those years, all that hard work, that is how he was shown the door.

 

The other style of party required a facility bigger than a firehouse, it required a hotel sometimes or maybe the Elks Club. Oh and it was a big deal, dignitaries of all sort showed for these, there was much speechifying, gift giving and drinking. This type of party was usually reserved for the gold badges. You would have to of been one hell of a lowly fireman to rank a party like that.

 

So I wasn’t going to expose myself to that kind of public ridicule. I wasn’t going to let anyone kick me on the way out the door, because I knew how many people I had let down and how many people were going to be glad to see me go. I felt so worthless at the end of my career that my actions had canceled out every bit of good I had ever done.

 

I was so selfish and full of self loathing at that point I just wanted to fade away like old Blue did. What a terrible feeling that was and I remember speaking about it in an AA meeting. Following the meeting I was pulled aside by a former Army Ranger.

 

“Tim can I tell you something?” He asked.

“Sure Dave, what?” I answered.

“Well I heard what you had to say today about your retirement party and I felt compelled to say something about that. That party isn’t for you Tim. It’s for them, it’s for the people you worked with to be able to come say good bye and to honor your service.” He said.

“It will be to embarrassing Dave, nobody will come.” I said.

“That is where you are wrong Tim. The ones that love you and respect you, they will come because they remember what you have done over the years. This thing is for them and if you don’t do it you will always regret it my friend. Just my two cents worth, but if I were you, I’d do it, for them not you.” He shook my hand, winked and walked away.

 

I respect Dave immensely and so I took his advice and had a party, not for me, for them. The day of my party came and my guys at station 7 “The Hero House” were really kind and had arranged an amazing celebration for me. I sat around nervously waiting for it, to happen.

 

At the appointed time the first guest to arrive was my very first Lieutenant, he walked in the kitchen and I wondered why this guy was there, I hadn’t seen him for probably 20 years and I was just a probie for him. Why would he be there?

“Hicks Bob what are you doing here?” I asked. We had always said his name backwards Hicks Bob, instead of Bob Hicks.

“Aren’t you retiring today TimO? He asked.

“Well ya I am.” I said.

“Well that’s why I’m here for your retirement.” He said.

He came over and shook my hand and we visited for a few moments, until more and more firemen began to fill the kitchen and the whole firehouse. There were too many of them to spend a great deal of time with each one.

 

I was stunned, I really was. In my head I had expected to endure a small gathering that would have to eat too much cake and ice cream to prevent it from going to waste.

 

As I moved around and visited with so many old faces I felt like I was in a Museum of Firefighting History. There were so many greats in the crowd, the men that had “boot strapped” me through my very difficult early years. The men that had given me so much and taught me enough to stay alive.

 

I was absolutely blown away, why would these guys come for me? Then I had to think, if the best I had ever known came to wish me well maybe I wasn’t the piece of shit I viewed myself to be. Maybe I had done some good, maybe I had made a contribution to the job I loved so well.

 

I was also reminded that we only rent the firehouses we occupy during our career. We are temporary inhabitants and we will soon be forgotten it is our destiny to make room for the next batch of heroes to come and take our place. To save the next life and fight the next fire.

 

I am so glad I did it.

Oh If I Were The Chief!

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Becoming a firefighter is quite a process and always has been. The testing has taken many forms over the years. When I tested in the early 80s it was so grueling I vomited following the physical agility test and had to sit in my car for 10-15 minutes before I could drive.

 

The physical test wasn’t the first component I’m getting ahead of myself. The first portion of the entry process was a written exam that covered many areas of general knowledge that included basic skills such as reading comprehension, vocabulary, and math. Next came mechanical aptitude, could you figure out how stuff worked.

 

These were all timed tests completing on time and getting the highest number of correct answers allowed you to advance to the next round of testing, the physical agility portion. The year I was hired was the very first time a woman (Hey Annie!) managed to reach this level and continue on to the next component of the hiring method.

 

The third event for many is the most difficult; it is the face to face oral interview. I have written about this in detail before. The whole thing is set up as a means to measure intelligence, dynamic thinking, decision making and many other things, and to do it under intense pressure after all a job as a firefighter hangs in the balance.

 

This is such a critical phase of testing that many books, websites, videos, and in person enactments have been created to prepare the potential employee for the rigors of the oral interview. One question that is most assuredly asked of every candidate is this one. “How far do you want to go in your firefighting career?”

 

I am almost as sure that nearly every single person that is offered that question responds with the pretty much the same rejoinder “Someday I’d like to be the chief.” No shit! Really you want to be “the” chief, the big, you want to be large and in charge?

 

If you answered that way I pray that in fact that didn’t happen to you. I said it because I felt it was expected, I mean who goes in there and says “I’ll be happy to just stay a firefighter.” No one that’s who. The officers sitting on the other side of the table want to know you have drive that you will always be striving for more, for perfection maybe.

 

Me, I had some hopes of promoting, maybe to lieutenant or captain, that would have been good. My personal problems prevented that and I watched over the years many of my peers become my superior. I watched many achieve the rank of chief, district chief or battalion chief, deputy chief and then one actually became The Chief.

 

All of these men and one woman who made chief (bless her she has passed) that I watched move up the proverbial ladder that I had worked with over the years morphed once in the gold. I knew all of them as firefighters as the boots on the ground as the hose draggers they were and in some cases weren’t. I had a feel for all of them just as they knew me.

 

My destiny wasn’t to be a member of the gold badge club and that really was a good thing, my career would have ended way before it did if I had stepped any further in to the lime lights.

 

The guy I knew that made it to the pinnacle of my old department announced yesterday suddenly that he was going to retire. Good luck to him, he put in more than 30 years himself. He went from fireman to paramedic, to lieutenant, to captain, to district chief, to deputy chief and then finally The Chief. Quite a feat if you think about the odds in the modern fire service for rising through the ranks to be top dog.

 

My experiences under 6 chiefs were wide and varied, some came from within and some from the outside. The outside chiefs came in blind and suffered tremendously from that. They weren’t one of “us”, yeah maybe they were firefighters, but they were firefighters somewhere else. Man did they have a challenge in front of them. To this day I still count one as a friend and admire him greatly. He gave it a great go and made profound changes in the way the Colorado Springs fire department operates today.

 

He was followed by two internal promotions; I only worked for one of those as I retired before the latest took command, and take command he did. Every firefighter has their own private little bitches about the job and everyone fantasizes about how it would be if one day I were king.

 

I think of an old Woody Allen movie Bananas, in the movie Woody Allen becomes the leader of a small country and as the Ruler he announces his new rules for his citizens.

 

His character’s name is Esposito. “From this day on, the official language of San Marcos will be Swedish. Silence! In addition to that, all citizens will be required to change their underwear every half-hour. Underwear will be worn on the outside so we can check. Furthermore, all children under 16 years old are now… 16 years old!”

 

The one thing that all the Chiefs had in common was a fascination with what our uniforms looked like, I have no idea why but changing the uniform or uniform policy was addressed early in every regime, Lord knows why.

 

What I do know is this, the fire department in my community is considered in official studies by the city, to be the best buy the citizens make with their tax dollars. They love us and they don’t care what we wear, what our shoes look like, or that we have a nap in the afternoon, they don’t care if buy groceries on duty, they don’t care if we work out and the list goes on and on. They care about this, when they need us we are there, that we help and save lives, and put out fires and give their kids badge stickers and are trustworthy and so on.

 

The people that care about all the petty shit are Woody Allen in my book. But I’m retired and none of their decisions actually effect me, but they do have an impact on morale and the new chief has nowhere to go but up form here.

People ask me How I Feel About Boston and West, Texas, Well I Don’t Fell Good.

I have had a lot of friends ask me how do firefighters feel about all the things that have happened this week in America, from the Boston Marathon to West, Texas and the many other tragic events less reported. I can’t speak for all firefighters and would never attempt something so arrogant as to try and express how it feels to lose a friend, a brother or a sister in the business of emergency services.

 

I can tell you how I feel about it. First it makes me sick to my stomach. To watch the events unfold on TV and the internet on a 24 hour a day relentless basis is too much I have to turn it off. The press is doing their job, people want to know, people demand to be kept up on the latest information, and it is the modern day equivalent of the gladiator games of Rome.

 

The blood lust is offensive to see. Images are released to the cannibalistic voyeurs of this drama without any thought of should they be released. It is so macabre the way human vultures pick and eat greedily at the bones and flesh of their fellows. I am sure every time a photo or video carries a warning of “Strong Content” it skyrockets to the top of Twitter and Youtube in seconds and is posted over and over again on Facebook.

 

The question I have is this, do any of these ghouls ever stop to think that there are families, friends, lovers, and a host of people that have their faces shoved right back into the shit by these images? Can anyone imagine that every time you look on Facebook you have to be reminded that your father, mother, sibling, or friend was killed in some horrible way?

 

Where do you hide from it? Do you crawl in a hole and wait for it to all blow past? I saw the first few seconds of the mother in Boston talking about the loss of her daughter and couldn’t turn it off quickly enough. Have you ever seen vultures or other scavengers in nature like hyenas rip, claw, and fight for their share of a carcass?

That’s all I could see in the few seconds I watched, scavengers and decomposers. Scavengers are animals or reporters that don’t do any work themselves they wait for opportunity and then pounce without thought or feelings, they just want it and they get it.

 

Decomposers on the other hand are the very lowest on the food chain; decomposers are the ones that feed on the excrement and scraps left behind by the scavengers. They are the ones attracted to the captions that read “WARNING STRONG CONTENT”. Those kinds of warnings are voyeur porn advertisements for the decomposers.

 

They wonder to themselves how gruesome will it be. Will there be blood and body parts? Will there be guts and pieces lying about? They wonder if they are tough enough to take it, can they stomach these unknown images. Its catnip to the zombies they have to look. They are the same people that slow down their cars and video crashes on the highway.

 

Who knows maybe they can get a video that will go viral on Youtube or better yet get picked up by local and then national news, do you have any idea how many hits something like that can generate on your Youtube channel?

 

Don’t get me wrong on this I am not condemning everyone that is curious about these kinds of events it is natural to want to know what is going on, besides you almost can’t escape it in today’s America. I just hope that viewers will take a moment to put themselves in the shoes or the uniform of the victims and survivors.

 

Myself in 30+ years as a firefighter/paramedic I got a belly full and then some of the gore. It carries a tremendous price tag for those in the emergency businesses that live it and see it day in and day out. So how do I feel about these things? I feel such sadness for the families and friends in Boston. I feel sad for the workers that had to respond to the initial event and for the ones that cleaned away the evidence it ever happened.

 

I feel such sorrow for the families and friends of the Firefighter, EMTs, and Police officers in West, Texas. They died trying to keep others safe and with full knowledge that their own personal odds of walking away were very low.

 

The casual observer of these events can say, that is so horrible and pray for the families of all those involved, but they can never know the gigantic whole that these explosions have blown right through the very souls of the survivors.

 

In a few days or months or even years the watchers and scavengers, and decomposers will have moved on. The next shiny thing will be running 24 hours a day on TV and the internet. The memories of those that died without choice and those that died with a choice will fade for them. But just ask someone that lost a loved on September 11, 2001 if the memories have faded and you will find out that the people in Boston and West, Texas have very little chance of ever escaping this week’s memories.

 

As long as people are remembered they are not lost. Not to time or to us or to their families or friends they will always be around and what they did will never be forgotten. Why is it that many people can name the names of the killers and bombers, but not a single name of the heroes? Kind of strange isn’t it?

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Firefighters can solve any problem.

Firefighters are by nature natural problem solvers. If you think about it we get called for everything nobody else knows what to do with. A citizen calls 911 because something in their life has exceeded their ability to handle it.

 

The call takers and dispatchers are highly trained professionals that spend many hours in educational classes and are constantly being given new techniques in how to help the general public.

 

Emergencies that are clearly of a police nature go to the cops, things that are medical go to the FD and the ambulance service, fires duh. What about those gray areas? One thing that seems for some unknown reason to always fall to the fire service is water, water in all its manifestations.

 

We don’t own the water it is a tool we use in our job, but we aren’t responsible for water. When someone has a water leak in their house they call 911 and are worried that the water is going to get into their electrical system and short it out and then cause a fire. So we get the call.

 

What do we do? We show up, turn off the water and disable the electrical breakers that are affected. But we aren’t plumbers or electricians we can’t fix it. When there is a big rain storm and the streets become flooded we get the calls for that too.

 

Okay saving someone that has become stranded in flood waters, we do that, we love that it’s cool. But water flooding through your window wells isn’t really an emergency to us. Yet we go.

 

One last time we don’t do cats in trees. We don’t do bears in trees, or mountain lions, or any number of critters that climb. We have rescued baby ducks and baby foxes from storm drains, but that is just because we got called and because we want to solve problems.

 

One December night as we had all settled in for some popcorn and TV the doorbell rang. At the door was one very distraught mother and small child. She was on the verge of hysterics. We wanted to help and got her and the child inside as quickly as we could.

 

In her hands she clutched a shoebox. We got her to calm down and just tell us what the problem was. Between gasps and shudders she explained that Santa had given her daughter a hamster for Christmas, he name was…

“Mr. Cuddles.” The little girl chimed in.

“and I squeezed him too hard and stuff came out his butt.”

The mother pushed the shoebox toward me.

“He’s in there and he’s alive. But he’s kind of dragging his… his I guess his intestines around behind him.”

I took the box. We all exchanged a WTF do we do glance.

“Okay, so you want us to fix him?” I asked.

“I don’t think he can be fixed I called an emergency veterinarian clinic and they said he should just be put down.”

 

She began to cry all over again and her daughter grabbed her leg and began to cry and apologize for hurting Mr. Cuddles. We assured her we had experience in these matters and would be able to help her.

 

An outright lie, but she was killing us with the little girl and all the crying, we just wanted to help her out and get them out of the station.

 

“We will take care of Mr. Cuddles, and do our best. Okay?” I said.

“Will he be okay?” asked the little girl.

“Honey we will do our best for Mr. Cuddles but he may be hurt too bad to be fixed, if that is true we will still take care of him.”

“Promise?” she said.

“Yeah we promise.”

“Thank you guys so much, I didn’t know what to do my husband is deployed and he normally handles this kind of thing.” Said Mom.

“Well thank him for his service and we are glad to help.”

With that she and her daughter left. As soon as the door closed it began.

“What the hell do we do with a hamster with its guts squeezed out?” asked Blue.

“Let’s take a look.” Said Davey our lieutenant.

He took the box and opened it. Inside was a little fuzzy ball, and it met the description offered by the mother. He slipped the lid back on. Now Davey was a country ass Kansas boy and had grown up on a farm, but he had never been presented with quit a dilemma like this one.

“Well I’m open to suggestions boys.” He looked us over.

“What do you think TimO, can you give it an overdose of some kind of drug that will do the job?” he asked me.

“I don’t know Lou, I can’t give him any of my narcotics I have to account for those.”

“Something else then?” asked Blue.

“We could just drown him, put some rocks in the box and put it in a bucket.” Offered Bobby the driver.

“That’s what we used to do on the farm with unwanted animals sometimes.” Said the Lou.

“Is that humane?” I asked.

“I don’t know, you’re the one that said we could take care of it TimO, not us.” Said Blue.

“We could just leave it outside in the cold I’m sure that would do it.” said Bobby.

“What if they come back to see how it went and see the box outside? That would be awkward.” Said the Lou.

“Let me call one of my Docs and see what they say, maybe they’ll have an idea.” I said.

 

I went to the office and called one of the emergency rooms and got one of my favorite Docs on the phone. I explained our situation and she offered to help. She gave me permission to mix up a little cocktail of meds, our own version of lethal injection and signed off on the treatment.

 

We buried the little hamster out in the flower garden the next day.

Leading From the Rear.

I’m sure most don’t think firefighting, or firefighters haven’t changed all that much over the years. I have written about some of the changes I witnessed over my career and pointed out some of the subtle changes I have seen.

 

But I was reminded again this weekend of how it really has changed in some profound ways. There was an Easter party for the families and children of firefighters and having three children I elected to take the kids for some fun.

 

Since publishing my first book about the fire service and my times as a firefighter I have had many reactions to the book. The majority have been overwhelmingly positive, but the biggest negative reaction has come from my former coworkers, and that is fine everyone is entitled to their opinion, hell firefighters can’t agree on what TV show to watch, let alone a piece of writing.

 

I did hesitate to go to the Easter party as I have had some less than kind treatment at the hands of my detractors, but the kids wanted to go, so off we went. So here is one of the changes I noticed, the fire service is huge on their notion of all of us being a second family.

 

We recite the statement as if learned from a sacred ceremony at the altar of fire, it is one of the largest traditions of our storied career; we are a second family to our brothers and sisters in the service. Quite frankly I have to call bull shit on that one these days.

 

My former department is a group of men and women that numbers over 400 members. At this family gathering of our second family I saw the same dozen firefighters and their wives that pull these events off year after year, doing it again.

 

Lumpy and his wife, Cindy and Paul, Nolove, and so on. What I didn’t see was a single gold badge. Not that anyone was wearing a badge, but you get my drift. No chief officers, not one. Now granted I didn’t stay for the whole event but we were there for nearly three hours, long enough to have noticed if a chief would have attended.

 

That made me think, are there two second families on the job now? Is there a second family for firefighters? Because I saw plenty of mid-level officers mixing with their crews, many union members with their kids, but no chiefs.

 

The health of the organization I believe can be measured by this observation. The chiefs either don’t feel comfortable mixing with the working firefighters, or more likely don’t feel it necessary to expose themselves to their employees in a non-professional environment.

 

When I began my career this same department was half the size it is now. But you know what, when you went to the Christmas party or the summer picnic it was a full house and you know what else? The chief was there, the big chief and other than the duty chiefs all most all the chiefs were there. They at the very least put in an appearance, had a beer, shook some hands, acknowledged, how much your boy had grown or how pretty your daughter had become.

 

They still mixed the common man or woman doing the job, the people that were really going inside burning buildings. They were a part of that mythical second family, they were one of us.

 

Now I can see if you are sporting a wagon wheel of a golden badge that your commitment to the job as an executive is time consuming. It probably drags on you 24/7; you are dealing with budgets, and discipline, and the Mayor, and tax payers, and so on.

 

But guess what? You took that damned badge, you said yes to all that misery because you wanted it, you wanted to be the big. Well now you are the big, and the thought that hey I work hard the rest of the week, I never get a break, so you know what I’m skipping the party, that one don’t fly with me.

 

It doesn’t look powerful, confident, or like being a leader, it looks cowardly it looks like fear to me, like you are afraid to mix with those doing the job, those most at risk.

 

See what happens when you are an unpopular fire chief like this one, when you go to a departmental party like this, two things will happen I guarantee it. First is you will get shunned, oh people will say hi and shake your hand if you get close enough to them, and then they will slip away quickly.

 

Second thing, some firefighter will confront you about your poor decisions as they see it. Because outside the glass walls of his office building the chief can be perceived by some as human, and they will take this opportunity to confront him.

 

So it’s easier to stay home. Well being the fire chief isn’t meant to be easy; it’s a damn hard job especially when you make it hard on yourself. Firefighters aren’t stupid people, and they know what the absence of every fire chief to one of their parties’ means, it means we don’t care.

 

It means we don’t have to explain ourselves to you and they don’t that is true. But more importantly it means that we lead from desk chairs, we lead from the infamous fire SUV, we lead from the rear boys, follow us.

 

Well I’m retired now and I may have it all wrong. But what I do know is this, one day all of the leaders will retire just like me, and they will be forgotten quickly for the good they did do. But they will be remembered for the way they acted or didn’t act, and when their name is spoken of in a firehouse it will be with the recollections of perception.

 

And then one day their neighbor will introduce them to a friend as my neighbor who used to be a fireman, and then what? Where will that second family be on that day?

Good Doggy

“This is weird Tommy; the wound looks like it’s still fresh.”

Tommy joined me on the floor and gave it a look.

“You know what I think? I think the dog’s been licking this thing the whole time, you know trying to take care of his master.”

Made sense, I could just see the dog staying by his friend’s side and taking care of him.

“Makes sense to me Tommy. Look around the house and see if we can figure out what happened.”

I did a normal exam from head to toe. His only injury appeared to be the head wound. We needed to protect his spine as an injury like this to the head had a good chance of doing damage to his spine as well. Then my radio squawked and it was Captain Weird.

“TimO we will have the dog under control in a couple of minutes. What do you need?” he asked.

“Hey Cap, I’ll need a full spinal on this guy so can you have the medic from the ambulance bring in everything?”

Tommy returned from his search.

“Looks like he fell in the bathroom and smashed his skull on the toilet. There’s a big pool of dried blood in there and hand prints and dog tracks. Also looks like he vomited and from the smell of it and all the empty liquor bottles, I’d say he was pretty drunk whenever this happened.”

 

The crew from the ambulance rolled in with the gurney and the spinal gear.

“What do you need TimO?” asked Casey. Casey was one of the most seasoned paramedics in the game and I always felt a sense of relief whenever he showed up.

“We need to spinal this guy, take a look at this head wound before I cover it up.”

 

Casey knelt down and pulled the skin flap that was his forehead down to see the skull. He pressed lightly on the skull.

“No crepitus that I can feel or real deformity.”

“Yeah I didn’t find any and he’s moving air through his nose pretty well. He’s got some battle sign on his ears though.”

“Little basal skull fracture ya think?”

“Could be.”

Casey eyed the blood line around all the walls.

“What do think that’s all about?”

“I’m thinking he went to puke, fell and whacked his head on the toilet and now he’s been crawling around here on his hands and knees dragging his head down all the walls.” I said.

“So he’s got a closed head injury and keeps coming to and passing back out.”

“And the dog, did you see that dog?”

“Yeah they have him in the dog catcher’s truck.” Casey nodded his head in the direction of the front yard.

“I think the dog’s been following his drunk ass around here and keeps licking the wound when he passes out, keeping it clean.”

 

“Cool, it’ll make it easier for the doc to stitch him up.” Casey said.

 

We got the guy all packaged up and loaded on the gurney for transport to the hospital.

At the hospital Casey and I were doing our reports and having snacks, all good hospitals keep a fine selection of snacks on hand for the medics and EMTs that do the transporting.

 

You see if there is no specific reason for a patient to go to one hospital over another, then the decision of where a person goes for treatment is in the hands of the ambulance crew.

 

If a hospital wants more patients they can influence our choice of destination by the kinds of treats they make available to us poor underpaid, over worked and hungry medics. We go where the food is best if we have a choice.

The ED doc came in to talk to us.

“How long did you say this guy had been down?” The Doc asked.

“I’m not sure doc, but it sounds like, by the reports of friends that he could have been there maybe three days or more.” I said between bites of fresh chocolate chip cookies.

“Well he’s one lucky dude, he’s got a basal skull fracture and a subdural, he’s going up to the OR now, nice work guys.”

“Thanks for the follow up Doc.”

Days later Casey and I were back at the same hospital with another patient and a sweet tooth.

“Let’s go see if we can find the head injury dude.” I said.

“Let’s go.” Casey and I grabbed some more snacks and found our way to the guy’s room. He was awake when we found him.

“Hey we are the medics that found you and we just wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.” I said as we walked in his room. His head was all wrapped up in bandages and there was a blood drain resting on his shoulder.

“Yeah come in guys. Man thank you so much for saving my life.”

“To tell you the truth we didn’t do much, I’d give the credit to your dog. That dog kept your wound clean, and protected your butt. We had a hell of time getting to you with him on duty.”

“Yeah Maxi is a good dog. He didn’t bite anyone did he?”

“No he didn’t bite us, not for lack of trying though.”

“That’s good, my ex is taking care of him while I recover. I just hope I get him back.” He said.

“Oh you’ll get him back there aren’t any complaints on him by us, he was just being a good dog, no worries.” I said.

“It’s not you guys I’m worried about, it’s her, she says she’s gonna take me back to court to get the dog. She says the dog is at risk because of my drinking.”

We didn’t really know what to say at that point.

“Well I don’t know what happened and I don’t really want to know. But your drinking got you in here, almost killed you. If you ever want to talk about that, I know something about that.” I took out one of my cards and gave it to him.

“Give me a call if you want, I’m a good listener.”

Casey patted me on the back as we left, he knew.

See you tomorrow.

Firefighting will kill you.

I was a professional Firefighter for more than 30 years and it almost killed me. Fire almost killed me, guns almost killed me, people almost killed me, vehicles almost killed me, and the biggest threat to my life in the end was me. I almost killed me.

I tried to kill me; I was drunk again sitting outside of my house on a pleasant July 1st evening. The air was warm and I was sagged into a metal patio chair. My wife at the time, a fellow firefighter was inside with our three year old son and two month old daughter.

She was still home on maternity leave and had a few days left before returning to duty. A return to duty would mean leaving her children in my care for twenty-four hours at a time. My ex has many faults but abandoning her babies to an alcoholic wasn’t one of them.

Unbeknownst to me she had already made arrangements to leave me, to take her children and go to her mother’s home. She hadn’t told me this but somewhere deep in my alcohol soaked synapses’ there was a knowing, surrender had taken place in my mind.

I had surrendered to alcohol, surrendered to pain, and surrendered to death. Death was okay with me, in fact it made sense. It was the only thing that made sense in that moment. How could I release myself and those around me from the pain?

I had had a particularly bad run at work, seen more than I wanted to see. As a firefighter/paramedic you don’t get to look away, we don’t get to call a time-out; we don’t get the opportunity to say no thanks I don’t want to go in there.

We don’t get to hand “IT” off, whatever it is. As a paramedic you are the top of the medical food chain out on the streets. All your co-workers are EMTs and have been trained in basic life saving skills, and many are very good at it, they have skills.

But as the paramedic you are the eyes and ears of an emergency room doctor, you are their sock puppet. Medics go through months of advanced training, countless hours in emergency rooms, ORs, and class rooms. Then we spend hours and hours riding around in the back of an ambulance with a specially trained medic that mentors and evaluates our skills.

And then one day you get blessed, your physician advisor signs off on your qualifications to do the job and you go to your duty post and you are The paramedic. No fallback position for you anymore, no supervising paramedic watching over your shoulder and making suggestions, asking you if you have thought about this or that.

It’s just you, by now you have shoved hundreds of IV needles into arms, hands, feet, necks, anywhere you can get them. You have pushed plastic tubes down countless throats and injected gallons of medications into those IVs.

And you have watched countless lives depart this world, and not all of them peacefully. You have seen what a gun of pretty much any caliber can do to a body, you have seen what a person looks like after a train, semi-truck, car, or bus has squished, crushed, and mangled them. You know how easily skin comes off in your hands when a person gets burned up. You know the look in a person’s eyes right before they die, as they stare at you with those pleading eyes, save me, do something I don’t want to go.

You know the kind of grip a parent has when their child is hurt, you know they squeeze your hand so hard it hurts and you know the sound of anguish and hurt so well that it wakes you at night in a sweat.

And like Bob Marley’s ghost these things visit you.

So I had picked up the bad habit of pouring booze on those things and for a long time it helped. I thought I was getting rest when I was passed out when in fact all I was getting was quiet for a few brief hours, and they would rush back in like the waters of a broken dam.

They won’t leave you alone and that hurts. I can’t explain to you the utter sensation of total powerlessness that I felt in those situations. Maybe I was too caring, maybe I was too sensitive. I saw others unaffected by similar events, why and how could they walk away with ease, when I couldn’t.

We have little sayings to try and make us feel better, we say things like, we didn’t cause what happened we were just there afterwards trying to make it better. We did everything we could it was just their time, God’s will.

So I tried suicide as an escape, and was snatched away from that effort by the hand of God. I was thrust into a system designed to help what I consider normal people. Normal alky’s and addicts.

I am most decidedly an alcoholic, but I’m special, I’m a firefighter alcoholic. Now all drunks like to think they are special and are in their own ways, I’m not discounting the disease of others, I am saying that emergency workers (and soldiers I’m sure) suffer from the same condition, but to a much greater degree.

The support systems for treatment and rehab are designed for the average addict/alcoholic, not for us. This must sound arrogant but I am dead serious. Think of it this way maybe.

Let us say you own a very expensive, powerful, exotic, and specialized automobile, and something is wrong with it mechanically. You have a lot of money invested in this vehicle, a lot of time in it, and it isn’t easy to replace or repair.

But the cheapest and easiest way to repair it is to take it to some small local one car garage. Is that where you take it? Or would you look for someone trained and specialized in repairing that kind of car?

Well governments and other kinds of employers pick their health care providers based on their cost and their ability to treat the majority of normal people, not on their ability to treat special cases. I don’t claim to be an expensive sports car; I do claim to be a different kind of alcoholic. I’m a firefighter alcoholic.