Rambling thoughts of Firefighters/Paramedics

Many people have made comments over the years about how they could never do the jobs we do at the Fire Station. We've even been told we are a "crazy breed" of people. I suppose this is true. You HAVE to be nuts sometimes to run into a burning building that is filled with such thick black smoke that you can't see but you have to check for possible victims, and all the while you must keep your wits about you so you'll remember how to get back out safely. Many times it is like looking for a needle in a haystack but in this case you have fire nipping at your butt while you're trying to do so. Yep. I can honestly say we probably ARE that "crazy breed" of people. Still, there isn't a single one of us who would ever trade our jobs for anything else. This is our life. And these are reflections from the past years. These aren't just MY thoughts but rather thoughts and emotions from all of us.

I fight fires, I climb ladders, I have rappelled down the side of a building, I have fallen through the roof of a building. I have ignored direct orders to attack a fire in a certain part of a house when my intuitions got the best of me and I have pulled my men out just before the roof collapsed.

I have been stuck with needles and been made to wait anxiously for the HIV test to come back. I have thanked God the tests all came back negative.

I have been bitten by a dog trying to protect his owner when we were treating a patient diagnosed with a heart attack.

I have spent Christmas and most every major holiday at the Firehouse. I have gone without meals many times because we were called out of the Station. There are just as many times I never got to finish a meal for the same reasons.

I have played jokes on my fellow Firefighters and Paramedics and have been the victim of their pranks. We are still trying to outdo each other even after all these years.

I have held a small child, a burn victim, in my arms and had her skin stick to my shirt when I went to lay her down to treat her burns. I have seen a child burned twice within 3 years and watched the Father be arrested for attempted murder (he got away with it the first time for unknown reasons).

I have pretty much driven on the sidewalks in San Francisco when cars refused to pull over for us even with lights and sirens on. The men in the Firehouse swear they will sue me for hip dysplasia one day since they always think I am going to hit a car or pedestrian so they lean to the side with their right leg crossed over the other one "just in case" I do.

I have had women honk their horns at us trying to show off. They would speed up and drive along side of us only to see a female Firefighter behind the wheel. Then they would act all upset. One day I will make a sign to hold up that reads, "Disappointed?"

I have performed CPR, I have intubated people, I have stabilized compound fractures. I have delivered babies of women who did not want to go to the hospital because they couldn't afford the costs. I have seen the tragic outcomes of women who had no prenatal care for the same reasons of no money.

I have had a fellow Firefighter crack under pressure after a few years and when he was admitted for psychiatric evaluation, he was found dead. He had hung himself.

I have listened to the cries and screams of young children as they watch their parents being loaded into ambulances. I have held their hands, tried to comfort them.

I have treated the homeless and poor in San Francisco. I know many of them by name. I know which streets they tend to hang around on. We often do "checks" on them when we haven't seen them for awhile.

I have found myself in a fit of giggles (for many VALID reasons, at least in my own opinion) while trying to treat a patient who was a known hypochondriac and I couldn't believe the new "problem" she had this time. As much as I tried, I could not control myself. It has something to do with peeing in her bed and being naked and saying she couldn't complete her tax returns. Possibly if she got DRESSED and didn't pee in bed she could????

We have been caught in the cross-fire while treating a gang member for a stabbing and the rival gang decided they didn't want the boy live, let alone be treated for his wounds.

I have climbed up an aerial ladder and half way up lost my footing, only to fall to the ground after taking down the two others who were on the ladder just below me. I have cursed as to why I ended up at the bottom of the pile with the other two on top of me when I was at the TOP to begin with.

I have had to lift a 450 pound man into an ambulance. I have been punched and/or kicked by patients who were whacked out on Crystal Meth. I have done CPR and had patients vomit while breathing into their mouths. Thank god for one-way valve resuscitation masks!

I put out house fires, car fires, trash fires. I rescue people from burning houses and buildings. I rescue people in the ocean, in swimming pools and over the embankments of freeways.

I risk my life for the drunk drivers who drive over the cliff on a dark road. I have seen what damage they have done to property and human life in their inebriated state. I have wrestled with the emotions of why they should be treated for their injuries when the victims of their drinking and driving are dead on the side of the road.

I have saved patients and lost patients. I have been chewed out by doctors in the ER who thought I took too long to get a critically injured patient to the hospital. They had no idea the patient had to be extricated from underneath a tanker truck and the patient was confined to the space of a sardine can!

I care about my patients. I listen to them. I talk to them. I do all I can for them. When I have terminally ill patients who have their DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) orders in place and they tell me they want to die, I have to grant their wishes despite the fact I want to help them stay alive. I can only calm them and hold their hand. I cannot do anything else.

I take blood pressures, I read EKG's, I stop profuse bleeding, I administer life-saving drugs. I splint and patch and bandage what I need to to get our patients to the hospital.

I laugh with the men in the Station over funny things that have happened on one of our calls out. I cry when the emotions of losing a patient become too much. I pray a lot. My heart skips a beat when I call the ER to see if the critically injured patient we brought in earlier is still alive.

We wear 60+ pounds of bunker gear and equipment when we go to a fire. We work in the intense heat. We also work in the cold. We get calls in the middle of the night. We don't have the option to push the snooze button when the alarm goes off in the Firehouse. We have to be ready at all times.

I teach Paramedic and Firefighting classes. I train constantly. I am required to take classes to keep myself up-to-date in the Medical and Fire industries. I strive to do my best at all times.

I panic when I can't get through an intersection because cars either can't hear or see the sirens and lights or because they just don't know what to do. I know I have to get somewhere and somewhere fast. I sometimes get angry at these people. When I finally blow the horn to get their attention to move out of the way, they usually move. And I am constantly amazed at the ones who have the nerve to flip us off for disturbing them!

Often at the end of a difficult shift, when I finally get to go home, all I want is a hug from family or friends. I don't want to recount my shift to them. I just want a comforting hug. And when I am home, I feel guilty for not being at the Firehouse.... to watch over the other Firefighters and Paramedics when they are working. All I can do is say a prayer to keep them safe.

Like I have said before, we wouldn't give up our jobs for anything in the world. It's in our blood. It runs through our heart and soul. It truly IS the toughest job we could ever love.

OOOPS, my bad!

For some reason I had a difficult time in Paramedic school. One would think the Fire Academy was hard but it was the opposite for me. I had trouble at first in Paramedic classes.

First of all, I was shy and self-conscious. And the classrooms were so very quiet during lectures. This was not good when my stomach had the habit to make god-awful noises at the most inappropriate times. And it happened a lot. I remember from grammar school to high school, I would get into so much trouble because I would get the giggles over any noise in those quiet classrooms. Mostly is was ME but Heaven forbid when it was someone else!!!

I thought I outgrew bursting into fits of laughter.... and over "nothing" really. But I didn't. Somehow I managed to get through it all. But not without the consequences.

On this particular day, we were training in CPR and ALS (Advanced Life Support). We were learning to use the defibrillator. This machine has always intrigued me. Our patient was a manikin. He/she was "dead" already. At least I could do no harm if I messed up. Right?

Our Instructor was going over the last details before letting us practice on the manikin. I watched as each the students before me used the defibrillator on their "patient." I cringed each time I heard the zap of the machine. Then it was my turn. I positioned the paddles with precise accuracy over my patient's chest.

"Clear!" I yelled. I guess I got a bit carried away in my nervousness and didn't see the Instructor's hand on the chest of my patient. He was jolted with a defibrillation energy level of 200 J. (Thank god it only got him in one finger!)

"Oooops, my bad!" I said as he flung his hand back out of the way with a look on his face that told me he had no idea where the heck he was at the moment. Uh oh. The whole class was stunned at first and no one dared to laugh. At least not at that moment. Our Instructor was still alive. See??? That machine DID work! (I tried desperately to convince myself of this!)

Out of the classroom, I got such a ribbing from all my classmates. I was never able to live down that incident. My birthday cake later that month was in the shape of defibrillator paddles.

I suppose I passed that class just so the Instructor wouldn't have me there as his student again.

:-)

He is still alive today.

Thanks to ME??? One will never know.....

What did you say?

I am Sheena's partner in the Firehouse. We have worked together for quite a few years now. When you work so closely with someone, you get to know them quite well. For as long as I have known her, whenever she doesn't understand what someone is saying or isn't quite sure she heard them correctly, she will turn her head to the side and just stare at them. When she does this with Captain Harold, he will scowl at her. It drives him NUTS when she turns her head sideways like that.

One of the guys here in the Station came across a photo and added names to it. He then made an enlargement of it and hung it in the Firehouse.




Amazingly enough.... the expressions on the faces in the photo look EXACTLY like Sheena and Captain Harold during one of those "moments."

Revenge

Ok, I will admit I find farting really funny at times.... especially when those times are "unpredictable" or in public, and especially when they shock the very person who MAKES the fart!

One case in mind that makes me laugh every time is the woman on the Canadian Idol show. She was tooooooo funny and really comical about the whole thing.

You can watch her here:




I showed this video to the guys at the Firehouse. All day long some of the men walked past my office, stopped and said, "I totally just farted!" Some of them even brought "sound effects" with them.

After an entire day of this..... I decided to get my revenge. I planned my strategy all afternoon and knew it HAD to have something to do with SMELL.

That evening I finished dinner first. I cleared my plates and loaded them in the dishwasher and went to brush my teeth. I had taken a syringe out of my medical bag earlier and drew up some juice from a bottle of Schilling's garlic juice. Now I don't know if anyone out there has ever used this stuff but it is potent beyond belief! A little drop goes a long way in recipes. And now, also in toothpaste! :-)

I injected some of the tubes of toothpaste with this garlic juice. I only tampered with the toothpaste tubes owned by the ones who came past my office and truly made the sound effects. I then disposed of all evidence and went to the living room to watch TV. They were still eating and having coffee at this time.

The worst part about playing a joke on someone is the "waiting." Time seems to go by so slow. Sometimes it is almost unbearable.

It was about an hour later when a few of them went to brush their teeth. I could hear someone blame one of the other guys for the joke. And that guy blamed another and another and another. Gosh, I did better than I thought! No one was blaming ME! This was my good fortune! I must have timed it all correctly!

So I thought.

A call came in. Hit and run. I hate those calls. How could anyone drive away from the scene?

We arrive. It was a young woman who had been riding her bike. We assessed her condition and while the guys and I were leaning over her taking care of her injuries, that strong SMELL of garlic burned my nose. The woman kept looking at me. She actually asked everyone to "back up because she couldn't breathe". I darn near laughed my head off but had to control myself. She was released from the scene and seemed all too happy just to get some fresh air.

On the ride back to the Station, they guys kept accusing each other of the prank. That smell lasted for another 12 hours. They threw away the toothpaste, brushed with new toothpaste, used mouthwash, took antacids, drank milk, but nothing worked. Those who got off work before those 12 hours didn't dare go near their wives or girlfriends.

Ahhh.... the power of revenge!