An Honor...I Think

Found out today that my crew and I had our picture published in a magazine. It was kind of a nice story about a couple of boys (one of which was blind) that came home and thought their house was on fire. They called their dad on the cell phone and he called 911. When we arrived, we found that an attic vent fan had started an attic fire. We were able to crawl up into the attic and put the fire out with minimal damage to the house. It turned out that he was a magazine publisher and asked if he could take our picture since we saved his whole home/office based business from going up in smoke. He took the picture with the boys and then published it (the photo is scanned from the magazine). Unlike the caption indicates, I am am the one in with the red helmet and not Jon the firefighter who actually did all the hard work in a very hot attic on a very hot day.

Well, today we got our copies of the magazine which is called Traditional Lowriding a features a lot of show cars and SoCal pictures of the lowrider scene. Only problem I have is that the issue we received featured a lot of very very scantily clad females draping themselves over the cars.

So, although it was an honor to get our picture published, it is not likely that I can show it around to say...my mother?

Why Did You Call?

We have had a rash of weird reasons for calling the emergency 911 system recently. Actually, it is an on-going problem and a woman was recently prosecuted for calling 911 to have a police officer come to her house because she thought he was "cute". Some of the not-so-cute calls we had in the last few days were:

• Emergency response for a headache - admittedly, the so-called patient thought that if he would not have drank some much beer, he would not have the headache.
• Complaint of allergic reaction to medication - but on our arrival the complaint changed to "hurting all over". Somehow the patient decided he was now "allergic" to his anti-psychotic medication that he had been taking (and doing quite well) for about 6 months. He suddenly decided he was allergic and stopped his medication. Surprisingly enough, he was having significant issues with paranoia and anxiety.
• Code 3 emergency response for an overdose because a lady thought the prescribed single pill of Vicodin was not doing the trick and took two. Never mind that the last time she had the same prescription, the label said "take one or two every four hours."

I have to keep reminding myself, just because it does not appear to be an "emergency" to me, it still might seem that way to the person calling 911...

Retold Story

The following is a story I wrote a few years ago when I was asked to submit "street stories" to be published in a fire fighter's text book. This particular story did not make it to print, so I will publish it here:

Bill was a bully. It was a well-known fact. As I prepared to move to his station (I was the young, new Lieutenant) the departing officer and others warned me of his temper. It was not that Bill was a bad guy, he was an exceptional engineer, knew his area, and was willing to teach others his trade. It was just that he pumped iron all day like a prison inmate, never smiled, and used every opportunity to perpetuate the idea that he would physical assault anyone who crossed him. Rumor had it that he was no longer a paramedic because he threw a less-than-cooperative patient out the back door of the ambulance.I do not even remember the source of the conflict that put me squarely in Bill's crosshairs that day. It might have been anything that struck him wrong. The bottom line was that I was going to do something and Bill was certain that I should not. Without either of us raising our voices, I was suddenly too close to a glowering, muscle-bound, angry man. As he clenched his fists and stepped into my "personal space" I did the only thing that came to mind - I simply stepped a bit closer and tilted my chin to make a great target for him. I never did find that technique in any management book on personnel conflict, but it worked. He immediately backed down and apologized. I was amazed. In retrospect, and once my knees stopped shaking, I realized that I had simply called his bluff. He knew that one simple contact with his fist and he would no longer be working with me. He had too much to lose. By standing up for what I knew was right, I indicated that I was not going to play the game he used so often. He had no choice but to back down. In looking back at this incident, I realize now that Bill respected what I did and we actually became friends.Sometimes a company officer needs to stand up for what he or she believes is right and be willing to take the hit. I believe this sort of risk taking is an important aspect of leadership. Even if you deserve respect, it will not come automatically by taking the easy way out.

You're Only as Old as...

I have come to the conclusion that age is really relative to how old you think you are. I have met very old people (physically and emotionally) that were in their mid-forties. I have also met people who were young at 80+. Working with the geriatric crowd used to really depress me. I was getting to the point that I did not want to get old and everything associated with age was horrible. Granted, in my line of work, much of what I do revolves around the elderly and there associated ailments and complaints.

A few years back I was assigned to medical standby a Master's track meet. It was one of the most encouraging, attitude changing events in my life. We were surrounded by many athletes, the youngest being about 55 years old. They were all having the time of their lives. One little guy in a hot pink suit jogged up to talk to us and while jogging in place, stated that he could see how those "old" people could do the distance events, since he felt he really could not do that any more. When we asked what event he was in, he stated, "the hurdles!"...at 88 years old! A few minutes later, we watched the hurdles and on the third jump, a very tall 74 year old man caught the hurdle and went down in a bleeding heap. As we grabbed our gear, we watched in amazement as he staggered to his feet, ignored the bleeding, and finished second.

This was a quiet shift with only two calls. Our average patient age was 95. One was old at 92, and the other was a spry young gentleman of 97. Apparently, he is sharp as a tack and works at least two crossword puzzles a day. If only we all could be that young...

Mistaken Alarm

Many times when we get dispatched, it is apparent that the call taker and the dispatcher have no clue as to the real nature of the so-called problem. Sometimes these are defined as a "Mistaken Alarm". This includes the famous car radiator overheat that gets dispatched as a car fire, the occasional steam from a clothes dryer, the ever exciting low cloud / building on fire confusion, and my all time favorite - flames showing with the actual dispatch details explaining that this was reported by a passing motorist with bad eyesight (it was of course...the "Eternal Flame" in front of the sports complex). Often we get dispatched to something like "an unknown problem" which is the technical term for "send the fire department 'cause we have no clue as to what is going on and there might really be an emergency but we not sure but since we cannot get a straight answer from the intoxicated or otherwise impaired caller...We HAVE to do something because the caller sounds really really upset...So there might be a problem that could be fixed by a well-equipment and trained firefighter".

The other night, we went out siren screaming, lights flashing, to a young female who was upset about the love triangle she was in. Well, not really a love triangle...As near as I could calculate, it was more like a love tetrahedron or some other equally confusing geometric shape. I was not inclined at 0315 in the morning to try to sort all that out, but it was apparent that she felt that someone in this relationship(s) did not have her best interest in mind. Somehow that triggered a call to the 911 system which then translated into an "emergency" (see above). When we arrived, she promptly stated that she did not want an ambulance or a firetruck to show up since that was not going to fix her problems. We agreed and once again questioned the decision making algorithm employed by the 911 dispatchers.

So soon after trying to recoup from the confusion of the previous call, we were dispatched to a 92 year old female trying to die peacefully in a nursing home. When we arrived, the on-duty nurse stated that the patient, her daughter, and doctor had done the right thing. They had completed the paperwork that stated she did not want to be put on life support, given CPR, etc. Since the old gal was winding down, the paperwork stated she could only be given "comfort measures" which did not include an IV or medications. The nurse wanted an emergency transport to the ER for the doctor to prescribe "comfort measures". I wanted to say (but restrained myself), I can write you the prescription for an extra blanket and a glass of water. There is nothing that would be done for the lady at the hospital and nothing was going to change the outcome, other than that the old lady would be moved out of her living space surrounded by her friends and thrust into the chaos of the ER to live out the last few hours of her life.

Firehouse Food

After dinner we were sitting around talking about the amazing eating habits of some firefighters. One guy in particular seemed to create the most stories and examples of power eating. Since this guy is only about 175 pounds, it makes the quantities even more startling. One example given was an occasion when he opened a new jar of strawberry jam and ate the whole thing on his waffles. A quick check by the ever-observant fellow firefighters pegged the caloric intake at just over 3000 calories for the jam alone. Of course you could not have just waffles without a few glasses of milk and orange juice.

Ice cream is considered a staple a firehouse, much like salt or flour would be in some other kitchens. In this fellow's case, a half gallon is good for only about one serving. Just to make sure to infuriate the other firefighters, you have to leave about one spoonful wilting on the bottom of the container before returning it to the freezer. Ice cream is standard fair if you work a shift of overtime, have a birthday, get your picture in the paper, or about any other excuse your crew might make up.

Speaking of ice cream, a story is told of Keven, one of the senior firefighters, when told he had to go do a physical fitness test on a stationary bicycle, took a half gallon of ice cream to eat during the test. This legendary firefighter has an amazing story which I shall try to relate more at a later date. In one case he did a training video about rescuing large victims in which he played the victim. As the two other firefighters in full gear (likely about 260 lbs each) introduced the video segment, after about 3-4 minutes of intro, the camera pans back to show the two heavily laden firefighters had been sitting on Keven's shoulders throughout the intro presentation. Keven was simply standing there with 500+ lbs on his shoulders and a huge grin on his face. More about Keven later...

Sad Lives

It always amazes me to see how some people live. Whether it is the chain smoker sitting in a small hot room, to the huge mansions with a lonely lady all by herself. Last night we went out on a medical call because an elderly female was going "downhill". We arrived to find a 60 year old female in a hospital style bed. The caretaker identified herself at the patient's daughter-in-law and stated she had not been able to get the patient to eat or take her medications. The caretaker had made some minor attempts to clean the patient but the patient was protesting loudly at any motion, possibly due to the lack pain medication. The patient was covered in feces and when we rolled the patient over, we discovered significant bed sores and a discarded hamburger infested with maggots. Meanwhile, I looked around the tiny apartment and realized that the stuff on the floor was a literal carpet of spilled food, with mold working its way up sides of the dirty couch. A little girl showed up and began screaming for attention. She continued screaming for the entire 15-20 minutes that we were there. The parents were trying to calm her, but it was obvious that she was in control.

I was proud of my crew. I did hear one of them tell another, "I will pay you $50 if you take care of this call for me!" They managed to not "toss their cookies" on the scene, even though the stench was like a physical assault. There was a lot of suttle gagging and choking, but everyone was very professional and treated the lady with all the gentleness they could muster. Everyone went back the station, took showers, and tried to wipe that odor from memory.

The funny thing about odors - for some reason they seem to live forever in the brain. One whiff of something like that years later will bring the memory rushing back.