Well I'm up to almost 11 years in Fire and EMS.
Demons?
Yeah I got 'em.
Bad Dreams?
Oh hell yeah.
Calls I regret running?
Just one
Eleven years and only one call I really regret. It was a bad night but sorry for the gore hounds but that one isn't going up yet it's only been a year and a half and may still be going to court. I want to kind of explain what the Fire Service has done to me.
First off I'm the guy that's always cool under the gun. I always say in interviews and such that I'm at my best when the shit hits the fan. Give me a ten car pileup with ejections and an overturned bus over paying my power bill. Sick? No I just know my wheelhouse.
I work full-time as an EMT now and Part-time as a Firefighter/EMT with a specialized company that works exclusively on race tracks. I love my job.
Yeah I left Law Enforcement because now I'm a father and honestly I was so burned out I did not care anymore about doing a good job. That's another story for when I have time to write a very long entry.
I decided to write this post and now I can't come up with anything to say. I mean the service is just my life now. The calls don't really stand out anymore. I've run thousands of calls. I don't know how this effects my life I guess because I've gotten jaded or it's just life.
I do know some things that have been changed by the service.
I can drive anything in any weather.
I don't trust anybody entirely
I am a glutton for punishment. (Car wreck in a driving hail storm=my cup of tea)
I have a iron stomach even when I'm already quezy
I watch people vomit to see whats in it
I clean up after myself at work
I can wash a fire truck front to back in ten minutes
I can handle anything or at least pretend to
People can yell at me all they want. I still don't care
I'm still scared of snakes
I know that I can do anything I need to, just need to take a deep breath and do it.
Work is work it's good and I love it but it's a job
Thursday, December 29, 2016
So that happened
So I've been in Law Enforcement for 4 years this month. When I started I found a mentor very early on in my career. Over the years he has given me a lot of good advice and told me what to expect as my career progressed.
About the second day out of training he told me "If you stay in this business long it's gonna happen one day. You're going to be in a knock-down drag out fight for your life and when it happens just don't lose."
Well this past week that happened. An inmate walked up and told me he was going to beat my ass literally. Well in 4 years this has happened a lot. There's always some new guy that wants to test me. I have a reputation being an officer who takes care of the inmates but is always ready to fight and always prepared.
I stood up to make my rounds and he grabbed me around the waist and picked me up. I weight 250 pounds and am a pretty decent fighter but there's nothing you can do when someone grabs you around the waist. He then threw me down and smacked my head against the concrete.
I felt us falling and I braced but the lights went out for just a split second.
My head hit the floor and I had the thought "You're on the ground. You own the ground! End this!"
He was behind me trying to get me in a choke hold I broke the hold and tried to reach my OC spray.
I then realized that he had somehow gotten my belt off. I grabbed for my spray and finally found it I brought it up to spray him knowing that it would spray both of us. I closed my eyes and squeezed the instant I squeezed I felt him grab my hand and break the can I was holding.
A couple of seconds later as I was coming up with a new plan while fighting off another choke hold. Another officer had seen it on camera which was good because I hadn't been able to make the "man-down" call. He came in and tased the guy
About the second day out of training he told me "If you stay in this business long it's gonna happen one day. You're going to be in a knock-down drag out fight for your life and when it happens just don't lose."
Well this past week that happened. An inmate walked up and told me he was going to beat my ass literally. Well in 4 years this has happened a lot. There's always some new guy that wants to test me. I have a reputation being an officer who takes care of the inmates but is always ready to fight and always prepared.
I stood up to make my rounds and he grabbed me around the waist and picked me up. I weight 250 pounds and am a pretty decent fighter but there's nothing you can do when someone grabs you around the waist. He then threw me down and smacked my head against the concrete.
I felt us falling and I braced but the lights went out for just a split second.
My head hit the floor and I had the thought "You're on the ground. You own the ground! End this!"
He was behind me trying to get me in a choke hold I broke the hold and tried to reach my OC spray.
I then realized that he had somehow gotten my belt off. I grabbed for my spray and finally found it I brought it up to spray him knowing that it would spray both of us. I closed my eyes and squeezed the instant I squeezed I felt him grab my hand and break the can I was holding.
A couple of seconds later as I was coming up with a new plan while fighting off another choke hold. Another officer had seen it on camera which was good because I hadn't been able to make the "man-down" call. He came in and tased the guy
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Things I wish I could forget
I'm not much for telling war stories but these two have been bugging me for a couple of months. I don't think anyone actually reads this Blog but I'm getting these demons off my chest they've had enough time to play around in my head.
I had been a Volunteer First Responder for about a year and my nickname was "Ready to Go Joe". I worked hard to prove myself on every call few as they were. I was doing my homework one night in the dead of winter at about 10:15. When the tones dropped all they said was "female vomiting blood". I went to the station and we rolled out the door within 3 minutes. We walked into what I still maintain could have been the cover for a horror movie. I remember the scene like I just walked out of it. I wonder if it's still frozen in time like it was that night?
When I walked into the room the patient was seated on the other end of the room at the dinning room table with a small juice glass in her hand and a bottle of store brand grape juice to her left. Behind her, her Grandson was holding her head at an angle, her daughter to his left and her son in-law to her right all staring blankly at us. The kitchen behind them was clean and homey, pictures of the family on the walls and fridge. It was warm and cozy throughout.
It didn't click at first and then I realized she was gone that's when it hit me. Everything in front of her for about 8 feet was covered in blood. My mind had put grape juice in her glass but it wasn't juice, the napkin her grandson was holding under her mouth was red. My partner, a seasoned veteran was the first one in the room maybe the world to speak. He told me to go hold her head. He then explained to the family that there was simply nothing we could do and as he rambled I wiped her mouth and told her I was sorry but I was glad I didn't get there any sooner.
After the fact we cleaned her up and put her back in her bed and let the family come back to say goodbye.
I can't describe the feeling of sadness I had at that point it was the first time it sunk in to me that when I get back to the station after a bad call we talk about it and go home. Once the doors close on the station it's over. I saw that night that the family will never be the same again, ever.
About a year ago while typing a blog post we got a call to assist EMS on a cardiac arrest call about 50 feet from the outer edge of our district. I hustled my butt the 10 miles to the house to find the medics already on scene. I walked in to find a very large man on floor and he was in a flat-line rhythm, no chance. He laying halfway on the floor and half on the bed his pants around his ankles and nothing else.
His daughter and her boyfriend were there and they had called 911. I had to stop the daughter from going in but she seemed to have accepted it or at least knew that there was nothing she could do. At that point I heard a blood curdling scream from outside. His wife came in at a full run a pack of Pall Malls in her hand.
"I just went to the store I've only been gone 10 minutes!"
I stepped in front of her to keep her from going in the room she ran straight into me, she tried to push me to the side.
"I'm so sorry" It's all I could say.
Then I left her and my body standing in the middle of their small kitchen. I watched from the corner as she screamed at the man standing in her kitchen. She beat on his chest with both fist wailing in sorrow. I saw it all from the corner of the room. I couldn't hear a thing, couldn't feel anything but a sucking vortex under my feet.
Why wouldn't he move? Wrap his arms around her? Comfort her in some way? At least say something?
Why wouldn't he let her see her husband?
WHY THE HELL WOULDN'T HE MOVE?
Her daughter came in and tried in vain to comfort her. Then the boyfriend came in and lead her out of the house.
My perspective changed again. My chest hurt and the sucking hadn't stopped.
He was a rather large man in a very small house at first we thought we were going to have to cut a wall out of the house to get him out but after the longest 2 and a half hours of my life. We pulled him out the bedroom on a blue tarp and 8 of us loaded him onto the funeral home's gurney. The gurney had a cover and when we took the body outside the whole family was standing there to watch us load it up. There she was again she said her goodbye and turned and cursed me for not letting her into the room. If I live to be a hundred I'll never forget the hatred in her eyes. Or looking down at the bruises on my chest every time I took my shirt off for a week and a half.
I still get that sucking sense when I look back on this one.
I've said for years the dead don't bother me. Sure they come visit me sometimes when I close my eyes but they don't ever do anything. Even the poor bastard my own age that I tripped over that night on the interstate other than the boot print on his white tee shirt he just kind of says "Hi".
The living are the ones that never have anything good to say.
I'll never quit running these calls, I'm not afraid of the images that I let in or the stories forever changed by the very fact that they had to call me into their lives for a brief moment. I will be there when people are in need it has been my honor and calling to serve. If I stop running then these memories will never leave me alone. It's not that I have to feed the beast inside, it's that I know that there will always be people in need. I'm not going to stop because I can't leave those people. My conscious will not let me. I'll never stop running those calls.
I had been a Volunteer First Responder for about a year and my nickname was "Ready to Go Joe". I worked hard to prove myself on every call few as they were. I was doing my homework one night in the dead of winter at about 10:15. When the tones dropped all they said was "female vomiting blood". I went to the station and we rolled out the door within 3 minutes. We walked into what I still maintain could have been the cover for a horror movie. I remember the scene like I just walked out of it. I wonder if it's still frozen in time like it was that night?
When I walked into the room the patient was seated on the other end of the room at the dinning room table with a small juice glass in her hand and a bottle of store brand grape juice to her left. Behind her, her Grandson was holding her head at an angle, her daughter to his left and her son in-law to her right all staring blankly at us. The kitchen behind them was clean and homey, pictures of the family on the walls and fridge. It was warm and cozy throughout.
It didn't click at first and then I realized she was gone that's when it hit me. Everything in front of her for about 8 feet was covered in blood. My mind had put grape juice in her glass but it wasn't juice, the napkin her grandson was holding under her mouth was red. My partner, a seasoned veteran was the first one in the room maybe the world to speak. He told me to go hold her head. He then explained to the family that there was simply nothing we could do and as he rambled I wiped her mouth and told her I was sorry but I was glad I didn't get there any sooner.
After the fact we cleaned her up and put her back in her bed and let the family come back to say goodbye.
I can't describe the feeling of sadness I had at that point it was the first time it sunk in to me that when I get back to the station after a bad call we talk about it and go home. Once the doors close on the station it's over. I saw that night that the family will never be the same again, ever.
About a year ago while typing a blog post we got a call to assist EMS on a cardiac arrest call about 50 feet from the outer edge of our district. I hustled my butt the 10 miles to the house to find the medics already on scene. I walked in to find a very large man on floor and he was in a flat-line rhythm, no chance. He laying halfway on the floor and half on the bed his pants around his ankles and nothing else.
His daughter and her boyfriend were there and they had called 911. I had to stop the daughter from going in but she seemed to have accepted it or at least knew that there was nothing she could do. At that point I heard a blood curdling scream from outside. His wife came in at a full run a pack of Pall Malls in her hand.
"I just went to the store I've only been gone 10 minutes!"
I stepped in front of her to keep her from going in the room she ran straight into me, she tried to push me to the side.
"I'm so sorry" It's all I could say.
Then I left her and my body standing in the middle of their small kitchen. I watched from the corner as she screamed at the man standing in her kitchen. She beat on his chest with both fist wailing in sorrow. I saw it all from the corner of the room. I couldn't hear a thing, couldn't feel anything but a sucking vortex under my feet.
Why wouldn't he move? Wrap his arms around her? Comfort her in some way? At least say something?
Why wouldn't he let her see her husband?
WHY THE HELL WOULDN'T HE MOVE?
Her daughter came in and tried in vain to comfort her. Then the boyfriend came in and lead her out of the house.
My perspective changed again. My chest hurt and the sucking hadn't stopped.
He was a rather large man in a very small house at first we thought we were going to have to cut a wall out of the house to get him out but after the longest 2 and a half hours of my life. We pulled him out the bedroom on a blue tarp and 8 of us loaded him onto the funeral home's gurney. The gurney had a cover and when we took the body outside the whole family was standing there to watch us load it up. There she was again she said her goodbye and turned and cursed me for not letting her into the room. If I live to be a hundred I'll never forget the hatred in her eyes. Or looking down at the bruises on my chest every time I took my shirt off for a week and a half.
I still get that sucking sense when I look back on this one.
I've said for years the dead don't bother me. Sure they come visit me sometimes when I close my eyes but they don't ever do anything. Even the poor bastard my own age that I tripped over that night on the interstate other than the boot print on his white tee shirt he just kind of says "Hi".
The living are the ones that never have anything good to say.
I'll never quit running these calls, I'm not afraid of the images that I let in or the stories forever changed by the very fact that they had to call me into their lives for a brief moment. I will be there when people are in need it has been my honor and calling to serve. If I stop running then these memories will never leave me alone. It's not that I have to feed the beast inside, it's that I know that there will always be people in need. I'm not going to stop because I can't leave those people. My conscious will not let me. I'll never stop running those calls.
Friday, June 15, 2012
The Strange habits of those who live by the pager
Six years of jumping up every time that horrible squeal goes off, literally at every conceivable hour and during every event in my life. It has happened so much that the response is literally automatic; I get up, head to my truck, buckle in and hit the ignition, throw it in drive and head to the station (progressively slower I might add). Its funny; I have times where I tell myself to hurry up now. It used to be that I was running, but hey, "firemen don't run".
When the tones drop a lot of things all happen at the same time: depending on the time of day a bunch of guys scattered out across an area either drop what they are doing or roll out of the bed. Then they make their ways to their respective vehicles (typically pickup trucks or older SUVs). Guys who have jobs to do and people who depend on them take their precious time off and rush to the aid of someone who they don't know. Decisions are made in the blink of an eye ( do i have time to go? is this something I can take care of if I'm the only one who is around or should I go ahead and call for help?and literally dozens of other things). Trucks rumble to life, neighbors are woken up by sirens of fire trucks rolling out of the bays. Medics are rolling from one corner of the world, firemen from every corner and cops from wherever they come from. Within a few moments we seem to be coming up out of the ground.
We have things that come so automatically you'd think it came as naturally as a second basemen making the throw to first. Like flipping the master switch most people would never find that powers up the truck. transitioning from driving a small passenger vehicle to a forty thousand pound truck and doing so with the precision of a fighter jet pilot. Sliding into bunker gear that when we started we could get lost in so fluidly we don't even know we did it. We pull hose lines like they don't weigh a pound. we move in 60 pounds of bunker gear just like we do in our jeans and tee shirts.
When we get calls for help we have families and people who expect us to be around the next day but calculate the risk and we are people who literally cannot not help. We have little things that we do things for luck some would say. We get a kiss on the way out the door. We have pictures of our loved ones in our helmets so that if we have the most unfortunate should happen we can say good bye. We have letters in our wallets and vehicles for that same reason, letters we never want to be read but they exist because we have given our time and efforts to make our communities safer, to be there for those who can't help themselves, to be the only hand a person with no hope has to grasp. I'll never say we don't think about it but we do things that change and save lives so we calculate the risk and reward.
Friday, May 18, 2012
First Product Reveiw CAIRNS 1044
The CAIRNS 1044 Structural Firefighting Helmet
I have had my helmet for alittle over a year it is broken in pretty well so I think i can give it a good review.
I'm going to scale my reviews based on a 1-10 basis. 1 being I would not buy this product. 10 being beg borrow or steal what you need to get it.
For this product I'm giving it a 7 meaning I would buy it but I'd rather have it issued to me.
Mine is yellow which has held up surprisingly well. It's a well made and very tough piece of equipment. my only real complaint is it is extremely tall for a structural or rescue helmet I hang it on stuff alot it sits on top of my head not around my head. The other members of my department have the same complaint.
Mine has the retractable visor I both love and hate this feature. I love that when I go to jump into a car or cut a tree thy're just a flip of the thumb away. I don't like that if the helmet shifts the glasses kind of dig into my lower nose. They are beveled so it doesn't hurt but they do have to be readjusted.
Also I am a believer in carrying a picture of a loved one in case the worst should happen I don't like that for a honkin' big as this product is it doesnt have a place that is smooth enough on the inside to attach it. I think that the makers of personal protective products could respect some of the traditions our field is built on. We have always been supersitious and we use certain things to more or less build our mojo while en-route or whatever so if you make these products please try to see things from our side.
I'm not huge on the usablity of New York style helmets this is a good looking one and it works as well as can be expected. Ithink it is definetly my favorite of the ones that I've had issued to me.
On a side note if you would like to see a product review or torture test let me know. I would love to get some stuff to do torture testing but I'm not gonna sugar coat it I ain't buying something this expensive to try to destory it.
I have had my helmet for alittle over a year it is broken in pretty well so I think i can give it a good review.
I'm going to scale my reviews based on a 1-10 basis. 1 being I would not buy this product. 10 being beg borrow or steal what you need to get it.
For this product I'm giving it a 7 meaning I would buy it but I'd rather have it issued to me.
Mine is yellow which has held up surprisingly well. It's a well made and very tough piece of equipment. my only real complaint is it is extremely tall for a structural or rescue helmet I hang it on stuff alot it sits on top of my head not around my head. The other members of my department have the same complaint.
Mine has the retractable visor I both love and hate this feature. I love that when I go to jump into a car or cut a tree thy're just a flip of the thumb away. I don't like that if the helmet shifts the glasses kind of dig into my lower nose. They are beveled so it doesn't hurt but they do have to be readjusted.
Also I am a believer in carrying a picture of a loved one in case the worst should happen I don't like that for a honkin' big as this product is it doesnt have a place that is smooth enough on the inside to attach it. I think that the makers of personal protective products could respect some of the traditions our field is built on. We have always been supersitious and we use certain things to more or less build our mojo while en-route or whatever so if you make these products please try to see things from our side.
I'm not huge on the usablity of New York style helmets this is a good looking one and it works as well as can be expected. Ithink it is definetly my favorite of the ones that I've had issued to me.
On a side note if you would like to see a product review or torture test let me know. I would love to get some stuff to do torture testing but I'm not gonna sugar coat it I ain't buying something this expensive to try to destory it.
Chapter 1
"You're under arrest for murder. Please come with me." I whispered in her ear as I flashed my badge another 10 feet and she' d have been through security and well on her way to the great nation of Vermont. She'd been running from me since killing that US Senator from our side of the line why she didnt run I'll have to ask her.I never like Micheal Besley but the guy didnt deserve the arrow she lobbed through his skull.
Ihave been on her tail for over 6 months and have been close enough to grab her several times even have a nice little conversation with her about the different beauties of a Vango and Kinkade. Being in the middle of Atlanta airport during a particularly busy thursday in middle of January, made a poor time to lose her back across the border. I could just call the VT. feds but im not real big on leaving them the press and the little old thing of their broken "corrections system". I also just couldn't let my friend here go.
She was a pretty young thing only 22 her father and brother killed by the U.S. FBI during the war. Besaly had been the one who decided to make it a police action. I guess she felt he deserved to die. I never disliked him that much it seems strange to me to decide someone should be be killed with no outside factors. another thing to ask her when we get to the truck.
I stuck out my arm like love sick puppy took it and we began our way out of the building. I didn't want to make a big scene I mean she is still a person and will get enough embaressment er the next three or four weeks. We walked through the large building and she stared up at the high ceilings from day one I've wished she was on our shide shes so very good at blending in. when we came to the door a man offered her an umbrella said he was headed for a warmer climate and a fishing boat. I gave her a look and she took it thanking him. We walked through the light snow not really enough to cause the panic that had engulfed Georgia only 2 days before. Amazing how the South still stops at 3 inches of snow. The sun was covered as it often is during these wintery flurries just peaking out every now and then.
As we walked into the parking garage I saw my truck parked in a dark corner, while I couldn't ask for a better under cover truck they're only stayb under cover if you don't show them off. A black ford F-250 dark windows and a roll out lightbar that makes it look completely different. Its in my name so the tag is even under cover. I have it loaded heavy 2 ARs a12 gauge and of course all the built proofing anyone could want.
I opened the passenger side door but I wasnt gonna let her ride shotgun without cuffs and a pat down. When I pulled the door open she bolted I knew she would it was just a matter of time. I turned on my heel with our there was absolutely no way I'd catch her. As i drew my weapon I let a silent prayer for her cross my lips and that my round would find its mark true. She wanted me to I shouted or more or less begged "Stop or I'll shoot!" three times. She turned and ran away from the crowds toward a concrete wall that much had been fifteen feet tall. When she crossed the curb she was little more than 30 feet away I had my weapon trained but as always a little shakey, this was truly the worst part of the job. I fired one round training say to pull the trigger twice but i didnt have the heart. The spray I'll never ever get use to that part man its so strange to watch that like panit but so much different. Before she hit the ground some woman was running to her screaming murder. By the time I got to her a crowd of very angry people had formed, its amazing how fast street lawyers appear and want to inform me how I have infringed on someone they never knew existed 10 seconds ago. I held up my badge like a life preserver and waded in. A young guy maybe 18 shouted "My dad fought to end police brutality." But having been on the front lines of the war I knew why we were there so I didn't think correcting him was worth it. By the time i saw the scarlet so dark in places that it was almost black until the sun peaked out. The holes it ate in the sugary earth made the scene all the more eerie.
A man the size of a Mack truck walked in my gut turned to solid iron terrified and a little emboldened then he turned showing a 375th tattoo on his left are he spoke softly and with conviction. "I fought in the war and this man did too. He did what he was suppose to and if you still want to threaten him with your big talk come on we'll chat"
Having friend you never know about its a blessing
She was a pretty young thing only 22 her father and brother killed by the U.S. FBI during the war. Besaly had been the one who decided to make it a police action. I guess she felt he deserved to die. I never disliked him that much it seems strange to me to decide someone should be be killed with no outside factors. another thing to ask her when we get to the truck.
I stuck out my arm like love sick puppy took it and we began our way out of the building. I didn't want to make a big scene I mean she is still a person and will get enough embaressment er the next three or four weeks. We walked through the large building and she stared up at the high ceilings from day one I've wished she was on our shide shes so very good at blending in. when we came to the door a man offered her an umbrella said he was headed for a warmer climate and a fishing boat. I gave her a look and she took it thanking him. We walked through the light snow not really enough to cause the panic that had engulfed Georgia only 2 days before. Amazing how the South still stops at 3 inches of snow. The sun was covered as it often is during these wintery flurries just peaking out every now and then.
As we walked into the parking garage I saw my truck parked in a dark corner, while I couldn't ask for a better under cover truck they're only stayb under cover if you don't show them off. A black ford F-250 dark windows and a roll out lightbar that makes it look completely different. Its in my name so the tag is even under cover. I have it loaded heavy 2 ARs a12 gauge and of course all the built proofing anyone could want.
I opened the passenger side door but I wasnt gonna let her ride shotgun without cuffs and a pat down. When I pulled the door open she bolted I knew she would it was just a matter of time. I turned on my heel with our there was absolutely no way I'd catch her. As i drew my weapon I let a silent prayer for her cross my lips and that my round would find its mark true. She wanted me to I shouted or more or less begged "Stop or I'll shoot!" three times. She turned and ran away from the crowds toward a concrete wall that much had been fifteen feet tall. When she crossed the curb she was little more than 30 feet away I had my weapon trained but as always a little shakey, this was truly the worst part of the job. I fired one round training say to pull the trigger twice but i didnt have the heart. The spray I'll never ever get use to that part man its so strange to watch that like panit but so much different. Before she hit the ground some woman was running to her screaming murder. By the time I got to her a crowd of very angry people had formed, its amazing how fast street lawyers appear and want to inform me how I have infringed on someone they never knew existed 10 seconds ago. I held up my badge like a life preserver and waded in. A young guy maybe 18 shouted "My dad fought to end police brutality." But having been on the front lines of the war I knew why we were there so I didn't think correcting him was worth it. By the time i saw the scarlet so dark in places that it was almost black until the sun peaked out. The holes it ate in the sugary earth made the scene all the more eerie.
A man the size of a Mack truck walked in my gut turned to solid iron terrified and a little emboldened then he turned showing a 375th tattoo on his left are he spoke softly and with conviction. "I fought in the war and this man did too. He did what he was suppose to and if you still want to threaten him with your big talk come on we'll chat"
Having friend you never know about its a blessing
Sunday, April 22, 2012
For Public Safety Pros
I also want to use this blog for help public safety pros so I will be posting stuff like product reviews and training ideas
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