For Sam over at On the Clock

Sam posed the question of women in EMS and firefighting.

Firefighting is hands down a physical profession, for everyone. Most would say comparing men against women is unfair, it's apples and oranges. The concept that men were biologically designed with larger muscles and stronger skeleton, women being smaller framed with less muscle mass. Everyone assumes then that women could not possible perform as a firefighter. Now I know I will catch a bunch of crap over this, but the women that I've worked with and the women I've been to class with were all more then capable. When using proper body mechanics I've seen women perform the exact same functions as men. During class I've been "rescued" from a ladder by a gal who probably weighed in at 110. Now being roughly six foot tall and on a good day weighing in at 270 in full turnout gear, I'm quite the victim to rescue. The gal performed perfectly, using the techniques she was taught. There is only one act that I think some women might not have the brute strength to tackle, the rescue of a down firefighter. Now, do I believe that anyone man or women is dragging my 270 pound ass out of a burning building, absolutely not. I have never had a problem working with women in general, of course I've had attitude conflicts but none related to gender. My personal exception is women that are on the fire department for the wrong reasons. Systems that run both fire and ems, like mine, seem to have women that are there strictly for the ems portion and not the fire. Firefighting is a due that they pay for be able to work in ems. These are the people in my experience that do not put in the effort and sometimes don't seem fit for the job. Don't forget, the physical tests are the same for both sexes, at least where I'm at.

As for EMS
I shall choose my words wisely as my lady is a full time paramedic for a large private ambulance company in town. I would prefer to ride with at least one women on the crew, that way the ambulance has someone to clean it, I'm just kidding so settle down. I can recall many runs where having a women aboard was a huge benefit. Setting aside the issue of skills as anyone can learn to read the monitor or start an IV and with hydraulic stretchers no one has to lift anymore. I will say a women's touch is a real thing and not just for calls with "women's issues." I don't think anyone would disagree with the notion that women have a greater nurturing effect than men. Lets face it, does a small child whose scared from a accident on his bike run to a man in uniform or a woman. Does an out of control drunk patient not play nice if he thinks he's going home with his female caretaker. I'm not insinuating that women should be used to distract a patient simply because they are female, but there seems to be a certain calming effect. Could one hypothesis that that might be a reason that historically most nurses are women? Just a thought. Having a women partner just makes sense to me, you have the best of both worlds.

My One True Passion

Firefighting might be just another way to earn a paycheck for some. It consumes me. I really live for it.

I sit, always ready to jump when the bell rings. Kissing my lady goodbye as I run out the door, knowing I have her as my personal medic to put me back together, she's usually right behind me. Even in my bedroom my pants lay on the floor with my boots pulled through the legs, socks tossed over the top, a shirt floats above in the breeze of the ceiling fan. My gear sits completely prepared for me as well. Everything is hung in the order of it's donning. Pants and boots below, hood on the outside hook, coat on the back hook, mask beside it, helmet on the top shelf, gloves strapped to the coat. Granted I operate the apparatus quite frequently, But I jump at the chance to ride in back, as one of crew that will eventually enter. Crawling in the darkness, searching for that warm glow. You can't see the fire, but you can feel it. The heat tells you where to go. Up the stairs, down the hall, now you can hear it. It crackles like a camp fire and roars with the wind. You might even crawl right on top of it, the golden flicks of light crawling up you mask, never fear you've got your gear. Just back up and let loose.

As the pump operator your job is primarily over by the time the firefighters start theirs. By the time they have pulled their hose to the front door, I've flipped all my switches, turned my cranks and pulled my levers. I've given them their holy water by the time they hit the door. If all goes well there is a hydrant close. After establishing a water supply my job tends to slow down. I babysit a $500,000 truck for the duration of the call. I stand in the freezing rain and snow, walking gingerly on the ice rink I've turned the street into. Myself and old man fire will not visit today. Not without virtue, the operator plays defender to the firefighters. Against oncoming cars on the freeway, dark alleys and muddy swamps and with water, their life blood.

I'd take either, in a minute. Now if only there was a call.

Did you unplug the toaster?

We might have lost this one, but look at the proud papas getting their pictures taking.

I survived another live burn with the endless supply of over zealous rookies who're more than eager to battle the sinister Old Man Fire.

I of course did my best to train these monkeys with the dreadful thought that someday I might have to actually expect them to put out fire, without peeing themselves, mind you. We'll wash your gear if you get dirty from a fire, not for soiling yourself. No one went running frantically when the fire barely licked my helmet. They zigged and zagged appropriately and managed not the hurt themselves in the process.

I shall of course take this time to boast on my many victories of the day. I won my first instructor a drink at the bar. (The betting instructor had hid a second little fire that would have blocked my exit and made for some real fun. Sneaky bastard that he is.) Granted I took the bait way down into my stomach.

With nozzle in hand I open the front door, the kitchen to my right is only smoky, I continue right past it as nothing peaks my interest. I round a corner to find a dining room fully involved. Flames cross the ceiling above me, like a sunny day in the mountains I can feel the radiant heat through my gear. I soak the ceiling, wet it down until I can see water actually hitting the floor again, remember the ceiling will reach temps of around 1000 degrees without breaking a sweat, meaning when I shoot water up there it might not come back down. Only after the I've applied enough water to dissipate the heat will the water not convert to steam instantly.

"We've got fire behind us!" yells the young crackly voiced newbie.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've got fire in front of me too." "Let me know when you can't stand up anymore, than I come back and put it out." I retort with.

I finally turn around and shower off the kitchen (The hidden fire), then it's back to business with the inferno of a dining room. Wetting the ceiling will only do so much, you have to get in the room and actually attack what's on fire. Splash the ceiling one last time for good measure and run, I drop to my knees as it's bad form to stand directly in the fire rolling over the ceiling. I eye up my target and let loose with a nice straight stream that will knock the fire out. As the fire dies down the flames retreat from the ceiling as they have no additional heat to keep them ablaze. Mop up the kitchen on the way out and dinner is served. It was a fantastic fire. Granted for training the structure is already ventilated with the windows being broken out already. This provides a huge advantage as you can see. Normally in a house fire you can't see your hand in front of your face. I can personally guarantee most will never be able to appreciate how utterly alone you feel. Never mind that your knees burn as your crawl through the lava the carpet became when it melted, your shoulder sting as the radiant heat seeps right through your gear. If you are in there long enough the air in your will super heat and feel as though you are breathing from a blast finance. Other than that it's a walk in the park.

Remember folks, you never take your mask off, when you run out of air you better get really friendly with god, because if take one breath of 500 degree air, well, you just cooked your lungs and there ain't no coming back from that.

Better to pass out with your mask on and hope someone can drag your ass out, at least you gave yourself a chance at being revived.

And you thought firefighting was all about getting chicks while in uniform.

That and I will have the chance to work as a fire instructor, which of course kicks ass.

Cold Meat?

Just a little food for thought to all the EMS folk out there.

I've been reading a little regarding the potential benefits of clinically induced hypothermia in sudden cardiac arrest patients. The studies that I have found were primarily performed on lab animals, however I did stubble on to a study performed in Europe that was in hospital with actual humans. Silly Europeans, the world's lab rats. Their study had certain prereq's for the patient to be used of course. Based on downtime, witnessed or not and a few other factors. The benefits sound quite fascinating for cardiac arrest but also some spinal injuries and possible CVA incidents.

Basically I'm wondering if anyone else has run into this procedure, in the field or in house.

In the frigid north we might just start working grandpa on the icy sidewalk out front. Suppose we'd need inline IV heaters then, so never mind.

Keeping Up

Sorry gang,
There just isn't much to comment or rant about these days. Well at least not anything you'd care to listen too; my mother asking why I don't see her as much as she would like, my girlfriend throwing the "M" word around, the AAA surgery my grandfather will endure tomorrow

I have a visitation and funeral to attend tomorrow evening and Friday morning. We will lay to rest a retired firefighter of 35 years, a father to two chiefs and a grandfather to one young firefighter. His lineage will live on though, through a new grandson who will one day try to tame the beast with the rest of us. We can only give our best effort and continue in his footsteps, trying to fill boots larger than our own. I never had the pleasure of fighting with this man, but I have had the pleasure of his company. Company that is now treasured in only memory and hindsight. We will stand tall in our pressed uniforms, ride proud in our sparkling red chariots and salute an old friend. I'll miss you, you grumpy old bastard. We'll still answer every call, just as you'd have wanted, but with a heavier heart.

Pin Cushion

I finished up an IV variance class not to long ago. The class itself was mainly painless(pun intended), the instructor was competent and well informed, he had good instructional material to pass along to the students, hell even sticking each other really was not that bad. It seemed as if everyone had practiced on the side prior to taking the class, so's not to look foolish while you're taking the class to teach you things you shouldn't know yet. As if you're going to get into trouble for learning during your class. I found that I have rather tough skin, as a few needles were bench trying to breach the iron wall that is my skin. That and apparently I tend to keep my veins a little farther from the surface. Pretty much no one could land a line on me, which was fun, as everyone had to try. I was the hard stick, and I of course retained my title throughout the entire process. And I walked away with only one bruise to even whisper about.

So this weekends on call shift will be my first crack at real patient insertions. In the crazy version of an ALS/BLS service I work in, I cannot start an IV without a medic there to cup my balls and make sure I don't freak out and stab the patient repeatedly with a dirty, used needle, taking directly from the sharps box of course. I'm really not that bitter, I promise. But hey it is the tag line under EMSMUTT, working in the shadows of medics. Which I of course I tell myself is short term.

Mainly I took the class to get a head start on the medic class, you know the whole, I have to know everything prior to taking the class train of thought. Anywho, class still starts sometime in January. Right now it's still to distant to really mean anything, I still work for a living and can't give up the day job just yet. Not that I'm not tested from time to time.

How Humbling...

So recently I made the large mistake of driving my favorite ladder truck into a tree. Now it's not as if I lined her up, hit the gas and wrapped my chariot around a 100 year oak. But I came up on the driveway a little "hot," cranked the wheel and and BAM, "there's a fuckin tree branch right there." This is actually what I had said in my head after I hit the sumbitch.

Let's paint the picture:
I'm already late for work as I lay in bed, being a complete slacker. The tones go out for a structure fire, smoke and flames showing. For a second I contemplate my options, get up and go to work which pleases my employer or go to the fire, which pleases me and the pour sap who's house is a blaze.

I decide to attend the fire, explaining to myself that I'm probably the only driver available at this time in the morning, well at least the only one that can drive our ladder truck, yes our ladder truck is our first out, don't get me started. In it's defense it is a tele-squirt.

As I enter the station I hit the repeater on the pager one more time to verify the address, which I can't immediately picture in my mind, not a big deal now, so I thought. I throw on the my gear, somewhat hoping or expecting someone else to arrive and drive the truck, yes it's my wishful thinking that at some point in time I might actually get to play and not drive the damn truck all the time.

Somebody asks "where're we going." I hit the repeater one more time as I walk away to jump in the truck. As I'm pulling out of the station with my rag-tag of newbies, I realize that nobody brought a pager with and the address was not written down for me. It's no loss yet as we recite the address as we remembered it.

We cruise through town, lights and sirens wailing, I travel down the road anticipating that soon I will see the chief vehicles that have arrived prior to me, lighting the runway for me, so to speak. The road forks, East or West, I have no pager, asking for the address will get you nothing but grief and a bitchy response. The crew thinks East. Literally a second after I've turned, the chief is on the squawk box, "Are you on West...?" Me, "No, negative, I'm on East...!"
Chief, "Well the address is... West ...!"
Me, "Copy that, turning around, Sh." as I let go of the mic button.

I whip the truck around at the next intersection and I stand on the gas pedal. I'm livid at this point, I don't make mistakes, I don't fuck up, I certainly don't drive away from a house on fire!

I drive past the deputy's car that's blocking traffic for me, and approach the assistant chief that points out the driveway, I turn and FUCK, I just ripped a damn branch right off a pine tree and it's now hanging off of my ladder truck. My beloved ladder truck, I'm so sorry girl.

With the assistant chief screaming as usual the firefighters remove the branch and I continue to drive forward approaching the "house fire." I was livid when I flipped the coin and guessed wrong at fork, now I'm red hot, blood pressure through the roof I hear my pulse in my ears. As I look forward to what was dispatched as a structure fire and in reality will be much much less, no smoke, no fire. The crews found a little fire in an attic space, dropped a bucket of water on it and called it good.

So let's recap the mornings festivities:
I got up from bed, not to go to work, but to fight the "big one." I drove, which meant no firefighting for me, turned incorrectly and looked rather dumb and to top it off I sheared off a rather large branch from a what was a nice pine tree. All for a bullshit fire. If I had any idea of the amount of bullshit that this fire was I would have either stayed in my fucking bed or gone to work. I felt trapped in the movie Clerks, "I'm not even supposed to be here."

Pisses me off. Listen to your gut people, as I knew I should not have gone to that call, but I did and look what happens.

"Did we learn anything from this call?" was all I got from the cheif.

Then I was of course reminded that the next time this happens I should report to the "branch officer." Great, I can't wait until the annual banquet. Shit.