Mistaken Identity

San Francisco is a melting pot of people. We have every nationality in our city, ever gender, every non-gender, every anything-you-can-imagine. But what it all boils down to is that they are all human beings that deserve respect and concern.

Two very specific incidents come to my mind. Two I will never forget:

On a very warm summer night, we got a call for a possible heart attack or stroke. The Dispatcher wasn't sure due to the language barrier of the Asian man on the phone. But he was hysterical and we responded to the call with lights and sirens.

Arriving at the apartment building, we realized we had to climb 5 stories. The building was old and there was no elevator. 60 pounds of Bunker clothes, all our equipment (if this was indeed a heart attack, we couldn't waste time running back down to our Squad to retrieve it).... not to mention the heat. All this was not in our favor tonight. By the time we arrived at the fifth floor landing, we we pretty much out of breath. Carrying all that weight is not so easy, believe me!

The man answers the door when we knock. He is truly in a state of distress. Through broken English, he is trying to tell us that "she" (his wife? his daughter? his mother?) is in bad shape. The woman must be in cardiac arrest or in this stifling heat, perhaps suffering a heat stroke.

We are ready to revive this woman. We have all our medical equipment; we are highly trained for this kind of emergency. The man leads us into a bedroom to the patient. We all rush in prepared to do our jobs. We stop in our tracks in the doorway though.

Lying on the bed is a limp and obviously recently dead chicken. We look at each other in disbelief. So this is what I was "trained" to do? Revive a chicken? I don't know if I want to break out in a fit of giggles or be angry at the false 911 call. I refrain from the giggles but can't muster the strength to be angry since I am desperately holding back all my laughter. My Captain tries to tell the man that the bird is dead and we can't do anything to help it. The man is so distraught. He NEEDS his chicken alive. I have to leave the room before I die of laughter. Later I find out the man was planning to serve the bird at a dinner party for his brother's anniversary but the bird was not big enough yet an needed to live longer to get fattened up.

I became a vegetarian that night.


As I was saying... We have many different kinds of people in our city. I thought I knew them all. Perhaps I was wrong on this one particular night. A call from Dispatch for a woman in labor on the street send us scurrying to the scene. One thing we can't tolerate is losing a patient... let alone a baby.

Upon arrival, we find a very pregnant woman lying on the sidewalk writhing in pain. She looks to be a full 9 months pregnant. She is crying and complaining of "the pain." The police move back the crowd that has gathered around us. We drape covers over her. Since she is wearing a dress, it makes it easy for me to exam her. I proceed to examine her. Even I can't believe the words that come out of my mouth.

"We have BALLS here!"

My Captain looks at me in a panic and asks, "She is giving birth to a baby boy???? ALREADY?"

"No," I say. "We have BALLS."

Everyone looks at me strangely.

I know that no matter WHAT I say now..... it won't make sense. But I try. "She is NOT a woman. She is a MAN!"

"WHAT?" my Captain asks loudly. I think he can't hear me so I repeat it even louder (perhaps a bit TOO loud!)..... "This is a MAN!"

My patient was an overweight drag queen. Looked pregnant. Complained of abdominal pain (which we so innocently took as labor pains considering the whole scenario!)

What we had in the end was a man......... (whatever!)........ who had a painful kidney stone and bladder infection.

I stand corrected on this one.... and still trying to stifle the giggles.

:-)))

Thinking outside the Bunker Coat

It isn't that I am dumb... or at least that is what I think. And it isn't that I can't handle myself in stressful situations. What I DON'T like is having "all attention on me" when I am in the public view. I have often turned over the "glory" to one of my men in the Firehouse because I could not deal with the attention the media tried to give me. My partner, Rick, has been a "HERO" more times than I can count (combining his and my own "accomplishments.") I don't feel like I am a hero when I save a life. I just feel happy and grateful that that person will be here tomorrow to enjoy the sunrise. This is my reward.... nothing else.

So it is an ordinary day..... with ordinary things happening. I was trying to forget the previous day that I got an illegal parking ticket for parking on the sidewalk on one of San Francisco's streets. I mean.... the parking situation is BAD there...... most every parking spot is a PREPAID parking place. What was I to do when a 911 call sent me out to the city???? I parked on the sidewalk to avoid blocking traffic. The call was a stroke victim. As we were rushing our patient to the squad..... there it was....... ON THE WINDSHIELD UNDER THE WIPER. A ticket. A ticket for illegal parking on the street. Now..... tell me please! What kind of police officer would TICKET a city Fire Department Rescue Squad??? Well, as far as I was concerned......... a drunk one.... or tired one........ or one who was a stone's throw away from a brain.

That was yesterday. Today I am still trying to ignore it. We get a call for a "domestic violence" incident. The scene is not secure yet so we wait by our Squad waiting to run in and save the day. I live for this.... I long for these moments... my adrenaline is going....... I am waiting.

I get out of my Squad and close the door. I take a step away to start gathering our gear.... "just in case".... and something is holding me back. It seems that the back of my Bunker Coat got caught in the door when I slammed it closed and I was pinned to the Squad. Damn! To top it off, I had locked the keys in the squad.... a bad habit of mine even in my own personal vehicle (but at least I have a "spare" hidden under the bumper!

So there I am...... "attached" to my Squad with no escape. I call out to my partner. He is laughing hysterically. I tell him to shut up and have some respect and all he can say is, "Whatcha gonna do? Come AFTER me???" I hate my partner right now. Really I do. He tells me he will call our Captain. He does, and Captain Harold says he will be there in 20 minutes. I am ready to die of embarrassment. So many people are gathering around the Squad. The lights are still flashing. I can't even get into it to turn them off. I have noticed the "public" loves sirens and red flashing lights. I can relate to them. I get the same "high" even after all these years when I see those lights or hear that wail of the siren. I know.... I am strange. But to me....... so are those people standing around..... and multiplying...... around us.

THIRTY minutes later......... Captain Harold arrives. He looks at me...... assesses the situation....... looks around........ does some strange inspection. I am ready to scream at him to OPEN THE DOOR but I don't want to push my luck. This is not the first time (or last, I suppose) that he will save my butt.

He walks up to me and tells me I don't need him.

"WHAT???" I ask.

"You don't need me."

"Yes I do," I tell him. "I need you to UNLOCK the door!"

He looks at me again and claims I don't need him. I am ready to strangle him.

"YES I DO! UNLOCK THE DOOR!" I (quietly) scream.

"Have you not considered this?" he asks. "You could have UNBUTTONED your Bunker Coat and just walked away from all this!"

Well......... DUH!!!!!!!!!

Animals in the Firehouse

I woke up this morning to find the cat sitting in the corner of the recreation room, facing the wall. He just sat there looking at the wall as though he had been punished.

"Ok, WHO put the cat on TIME-OUT?" I shout.

I ask this because we have a Firefighter here who actually put two fish that were in the tank on time-out. Seems they were those Indian Kissing Fish and they kept kissing and chasing each other all through the tank. HE thought they were fighting. So he threw one of them into a glass bowl to cool off. Go figure.

We are not a normal Firehouse. We don't have a Dalmatian.... the mascot of any normal Fire Station. No, no, no. We have a duck. Yes, a duck. We acquired him against our wishes. Some time ago, we were finishing up at the scene of a fire and lo and behold... sitting there on the back of the rig was a duck. Since there was a nearby park, we figured he got confused in all the confusion and smoke and ended up on our rig. My partner picked up the duck and walked him across the street to the park and left him there.

As we were driving away, that duck flew next to our rig and landed on the top. We pulled over and removed the bird and continued on. That duck caught up with us two more times and both times he was removed. Feeling he got the message, we headed to our Station. Unfortunately, so did that darn duck. He wouldn't leave. He made himself at home in our Station and has been with us ever since. He was named Seguace (meaning "follower").

That duck is not normal. Obviously! He lives in a not-normal Firehouse. He drinks from my coffee cup (I know this because there is always duck slobber in my cup). He is "potty trained" (he quacks to go outside to do his thing). He eats spaghetti. He has a fit if he sees us eat chicken. Like I said, he is not normal. What can I say? Perhaps one day we will have duck for dinner. At least it would be much quieter around here. ;-)

So the cat is not normal and the duck is not normal. Neither are the 16 men who work here.... ok, minus Captain Harold. He is in charge. Wait, he can't be normal if he is still here in charge of all of us. I am second in line. Most would think I am not normal either. Well, this might be true.... but at least I have an excuse: I am blonde. (Good enough excuse as any!)

Thinking outside the box

Seriously, there were days in my life when things were normal. That all changed when I joined the Fire Academy. Things got strange then. I said things I didn't remember.... I couldn't remember what I knew. I literally became an idiot in hours. I thought I knew everything. In reality I knew nothing and yet, years later, the "teachers" of that Academy tell me I taught them a whole lot. They never said what I taught them as a student...... perhaps it was that there was no limit to what God could produce in this world to make others stand in one place with their mouths open in disbelief.


I remember in the Academy, there were 9 of us "wanna-be-Firefighters" who were standing in a 12 foot by 12 foot square box that was marked in white paint on the concrete. We were learning about fire extinguishers and which ones work on various types of fires. I have always been nervous in public. I hate being the center of attention. So there I am, being questioned about the use of fire extinguishers and WHICH one did I think would put out the fire in front of me.... (it was an electrical fire). Unable to think, I panicked and therefore did nothing. (You wouldn't have wanted ME to come to your house to put out a fire during these days........ believe me!)

The more the Instructor shouted for answers, the more nervous I got.

"THINK QUICK! Which extinguisher would you use to put out this fire?"

(No answer from me. I am thinking)

"The house is on fire. What will you do???"

(No answer. I am still thinking. I don't see a house....)

"The house is TOTALLY engulfed in flames! Think OUTSIDE THE BOX! What would you do???"

In my nervousness, I ran "outside the box"....... outside the perimeter of that 12 x 12 foot painted area.... to THINK.... like I was told.

"What the hell are you doing???" the Instructor shouts.

"I am THINKING OUTSIDE THE BOX, sir!!!" I shout back.

If this was my job at that time, I am sure I would have been immediately fired. The laughter from my other classmates didn't help me at this time. Nothing could.