Public safety partners quiz . . .

Take the following quiz and give yourself a point for every answer you can say "yes" to:
(The partner can be your husband/wife/significant other/or your work partners)

You've ever been hung up on preceded by any of the following statements:
a. We've got a run.
b. I've got a call.
c. Some dumbass just about took off the front of my cruiser.
d. I've got to go help this unit/person.
e. WHAT THE F*CK WAS THAT?!

You've ever been the last one in the restaurant of your party and ever had to say:
a. They're on duty, they have a call.
b. Sorry, we're on call.
c. Could we have that to go?

You've ever been woken up to a phone call that starts:
a. Did you know I had court?
b. What are you doing right now? (Extra point if the answer has ever been, "SLEEPING.")
c. I forgot something, can you bring it to work?

You are perfectly comfortable with long silences in phone conversations due to:
a. Someone running a tag.
b. Answering the radio.
c. The other person typing/eating/yelling loudly at traffic.

Any of the following is in your personal vehicle/work vehicle:
a. Disposable gloves.
b. Extra handcuff keys/handcuffs
c. Extra uniform parts.
d. Anything your partner has had to move off of their seat and rolled their eyes about.

More than five? Congratulations, and welcome to the edge of reality.

Uncommon criminals and other myths . . .

This is starting to be my new least favorite line from new prisoners: "I'm not a common criminal, quit treating me like one!" Guess what? I treat everyone who comes through my doors the same. Just because you've never been to the county jail does not mean you're special. You have to follow the same rules as everyone else. Sorry. I don't care if you're innocent, that's the court's problem. Don't complain it's not fair that you have to go through the same processing as the girl we've arrested five times for prostitution. Five times this month.

Landfill fires are not "cool" they are not "a training opportunity" or anything else you might try to make them. They suck. The last one took me two months to get the stench off of everything I own. Let's just call a spade a spade . . . it's flaming garbage.

You can not answer medical assessment questions during an actual seizure. If you are faking however, you definitely can. Try harder, we're like American Idol, we've seen it all.

What you do matters . . .

Recently, I was in one of those annoying funks where you're fairly certain your supervisor wouldn't pay attention to you if you were on fire. Then amazing things happed. I wrote a memo. Someone read that memo, and, wait for it . . .

DID SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

I think I'll be in a good mood for the rest of winter now. Sometimes that's all you need, a shot in the arm of "What you do matters."

So for all of you out there with the winter blahs, what you do matters. Thank you.

For every CO that's ever been spit on, for every cop that's ever done their best and still got complained on, for every 2am call EMS has responded to for an earache and for every "structure fire" that's a tiki torch; thank you for what you do.



BROTHERHOOD

Amazing . . .

Sometimes I feel like this is my life. The only warning I give is there is some bad language, and remember this is a joke. I don't want any nurses coming after me with pitchforks and torches.

Firefighter vs. Nursing Home
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k6yRpnkPlzg

Why did you have to go and do a thing like that . . .

It has been awhile. I did not think the following was appropriate to post during the holidays. I think it needs to be said though.

Every time someone brings up that our profession has one of the highest rates of suicide, you might think: "Not our department. Not my friends. Not here. Maybe some department 500 miles away of people I don't know."

And then one day someone wakes you out of a dead sleep and sends you flying headfirst out of your little land of denial. It is your department. He was your friend. You do know him, his family and all of the co workers. You spend about two weeks wrestling the question that won't leave: "What the hell did I miss?" Along with a few others. "Why didn't he talk to me?" "What could I have done?"

Eventually you start to understand that it was their choice that they made. Maybe you'll always have those questions unanswered.

If you find yourself in that deep dark place that you cannot escape . . . please, I beg you, come talk to me. Please. Please talk to me.

BROTHERHOOD

Geodon speed loaders and other things I'd like to see . . .

These are a collection of "I wish they really made that" products from my various coworkers.

From the SWAT doc of a major city: "Geodon speed loaders. Walk in the room, shoot one in the patient and two in the family. Everybody is suddenly happy. Thunk, thunk. Maybe in blow gun form . . ."

From our jail doc: "Prozac in aerosol form. Definitely."

From my shift commander: "Disposable uniforms. This is my second pair of pants today."

From my probie: "Scented N95 respirators, I hate the plastic smell."

From my fire Lt: "Biohazard bags large enough to wrap a patient in, or plastic wrap with that printed on it. Sometimes the hospital deserves to know what they're getting into."

From my intake partner: "Febreeze for humans . . ."

Ideas? Feel free to share . . .

What's stuck in a tree?

When my buddy told this story at first I thought he said they got dispatched to a cat in a tree. What he really said was they got dispatched to a kid in a tree. Slightly confused I asked if the child had climbed up and then been scared to climb back down. Oh, no. He was stuck, in the fork. Apparently this child was what my grandmother would have referred to as "husky."
The firefighters couldn't lift him out of the tree. After using the ever popular chainsaw to remove the offending piece of tree, they couldn't lift him on the ladder. Enter the webbing harness and carabiner. Attach aforementioned harness via carabiner to ladder and lift. Presto, freed child.
Bless his heart at least he was playing outside for the day.

I remember . . . Never Forget

This morning as I enjoy the quiet darkness of my neighborhood, I only ask one thing of you today. To say a prayer for those who we lost, those who survive and those who are serving.

The FDNY's 343, the men and women of the NYPD and PAPD. The countless emergency service workers who served at Ground Zero, the Pentagon and in that Pennsylvania field.

Your men and women of the armed services who fight for our country. Those who have come home, those who will never come home. KIA, MIA, POW, you are not forgotten.

For those who wear memorial bracelets, and permanent scars on their hearts.

"Let's raise a glass to those that have passed / Raise them for the finest that we knew / Going Home's been played / And the pipes all put away / Let's hear it for the boys and girls in blue"
- The Moonshiners, Boys and Girls in Blue

Thanks Lt . . .

Occasionally in passing in a post I will mention my all time favorite fire Lt. to work for. This is the man that got me started at my first "real" fire dept., who helped get me my job at the SO and who once saved my life (literally). Labor Day weekend he invited me and some of the boys from the FD to come have a beer at his new house. As we sat on the back deck watching the kids play, there were some reflections.
I have been at this FD for five years, I was getting horribly burnt out for a variety of reasons. My Lt. had the wisdom to temporarily give me up to another unit day with brand new firefighters. Not just any probies, but a girl willing to learn and a guy that catches on quicker than most. I will never know how my Lt. knew that the way to combat my disgruntled and tired self was to give me hope. Hope in the form of probies. Who knew teaching them to cook their first firehouse meal or helping them with the EVOC could change my feelings. I miss working my Lt's unit, but I know why he did what he did.
Two years ago, my Lt. saved my life. I would not have survived without his intervention. You can never repay that debt.
This Labor Day as we sat on his deck and traded stories I thought of all the people I have ever worked for. He is by far one of the best supervisors and leaders I have ever served under.

Thanks for everything Lt.

Shift Log . . .

Sorry about the delay in posts . . . took the parents on a trip and took my first vacation from the SO in two years. Still on vacation from another week or so, spending most of it picking up extra shifts at the FD. We have a new probie, and she is fantastic. I wish I had caught on so quick . . .
So today's shift has gone two different ways today, depending on who you ask. I had a great time with the probie and my buddy back from when we both worked for rural volunteer departments. The shift commander however, is throwing a fit. We hadn't even hit the twelve hour mark yet and we had already knocked out seven calls. Car v. pedestrian, several fire alarms and two calls to two different trailers . . . for the the same patient. Mix all of this with five or six commercial fire inspections and lunch and we have stayed busy most of the day.

Speaking of fire inspections, here's a professional tip to all of you. The place to store paint is NOT on the shelf beside the fireplace. Yes, we found this. Also the thing NOT to say to the fire inspector is that; "That is the most fucking ridiculous thing I've ever heard of. Why do my fire extinguishers have to be in plain sight in my business. They're ugly. Besides it's not like it's going to catch on fire." WTF?

Protip to all of you college kids on bicycles out there, courtesy of our truck crew and your local police. You have to follow all the same traffic laws as a car in this state. Yes, that means YOU. And if you don't, don't cry when my friends ticket you or cite you in an accident. Also, do not tell the cop, "How the hell am I supposed to know that? It's not like anybody tells you!" Just a suggestion, you might want to go look at that driver's ed book you largely ignored . . . just saying.

So we've got that going for us . . . which is nice

So after I posted about wanting a quiet night at the firehouse, God laughed at me.

At two in the morning, the power went out to half the city. Followed by the inevitable alarm drops. Followed by a man calling 911 because his air conditioning won't work; because we have no power. Seriously. I can't make this stuff up.

My friend in the comm center texted me with this. "I cannot believe how many f'ing people call the police when the power goes out. Like I freakin know when it will come back on."

Literally all the the comm center did was tell people to call the electric company. Who then argued with the comm center about how they'd been on hold with said electric company for twenty minutes. As if the police department knows who does and who does not have power.

And then we had the "male hallucinating with violent behavior" call. Direct quote from him: "I have done Ecstasy before, and this does not feel like Ecstasy." As if Ecstasy is regulated by the FDA . . .

I love my job.

Really? . . . I mean, really?

So as a nice addition to this post we have the following. A friend of mine parked his cruiser sideways across a two lane road at an injury accident. We landed a medical helicopter in the field beyond. Someone drives around three other cruisers, our fire department staff car, a rescue truck and a tow truck to ask him a question. The question?

"Can you move your cruiser so I can get through?"

As my Sgt. would say, "What are the odds?"

That's not a structure fire . . .

We get dispatched for "fire moving up the side of a building" at a rather large condo complex. Upon arrival we discover no moving fire . . . except two tiki torches out on a patio. Nice.

True friends . . .

How to know someone in public safety is really friends with you:
"I would give you CPR without a mask."

Brothers that always have your back . . .

For those of you who are noticing a reoccurring theme in my posts about loyalty/brotherhood; there is a reason or two behind that.
Aside from the unwavering belief that someone should always answer your call for help, there are a few other motives for my life in public safety. One of them is family. I joined the fire service because I wanted a family. Same with the sheriff's department. I love my families. I cry when they cry, celebrate when they celebrate. I hurt when people let the family down.
My fire lieutenant saved my life once. Literally. That is a debt I can never repay. I can only hope to have a positive impact on other lives.

Yesterday I got the best news in a long time. My partner, the brother I never had in real life, is returning. After a brief two year hiatus across the state, he is coming back home. There are not enough words or space here to explain what this means to me. Anyone reading this who has ever been fortunate enough to be assigned with a permanent partner that they like, knows. He is literally the male version of me. I can order for him a restaurants. He can tell what I need during a trauma call before I can. We were inseparable. I'm glad he's coming back home, squad has never really been the same without him.

Welcome home. We'll be in service shortly.

BROTHERHOOD.

The North American Emergency Response Guidebook . . .and you

Are you good with primary colors? Can you locate information in a table? Are you smarter than the book itself? Congratulations! You too can operate the Emergency Response Guidebook!!
Ugh. That was definitely eight hours of my life in the academy I want back. NIMS and HAZ-MAT was boring enough the first time around in the fire service. Only four more to go . . .

"Do you know what the best indicator at a Haz-Mat scene is?"
"No."
"A cop. Send him in with a flare. If he drops over or blows up it's not safe."

(Sorry MotorCop and all my brothers and sisters out there . . . but I couldn't resist.)

Bad days . . .

When I was hired on as a firefighter my chief told me, there will be hard days. When I took the National Registry for EMT class, my instructors told me there will be horrible calls. When I took my oath to serve my county as a deputy, my FTO told me you will see things no one should ever see.
As I sit here at work, I dedicate my shift tonight to a friend of mine. I cannot express in words what needs to be said.

I love you, be safe.

May the Lord bless and protect you all.

Rollovers, telephone poles and you . . .

An hour before shift change we get toned out mutal aid to assist a neighboring FD with a semi truck rollover because their squads are tied up. Upon arrival we discover one downed telephone/electric pole and another broken off half way up. The semi is lying on its side and the cab is in pieces. No one from the neighboring FD is paying attention to the fact that the cracked pole could break and drop live wires on everyone at any time. We yell at them to get the hell out of the way before we all die, and move the patient to a safe location. We then discover half of the other department's personnel has walked through the diesel leaking out of the truck. What the hell?
It was like everyone on scene took a vacation day and forgot any training/scene safety they had ever learned.
The other genius moment came when our patient started coughing up frothy blood. EMT of the Year candidate (note the obvious sarcasm) from the other FD tells me this . . . "He's fine he just bit his tongue." WTF?! No jackass. He has a hemopneumothorax. Which was confirmed by our assessment, and the ER. He went to the trauma center against EMT of the Year's best protests of, "You guys are so paranoid, he's just a little banged up." Yeah. About that. That's why we had to intubate and assist ventilations en route. Because he's fine. God, I hope this kid never treats me.

Where the hell is building "G" . . .

So I mentioned in "Let's remember one key point . . ." about fire alarms and poor building markings. Last night was yet another fine example of this. Also the point I made in the same post about people flagging you down (or not) was proven.
Since I work in a college town, at least ten percent of my shift is dedicated to fire alarms. University fire alarms and apartment fire alarms, most of which are malicious false alarms. We have several complexes that have multiple buildings; some complexes span multiple city blocks. When you have multiple buildings that look exactly alike, you have a problem.
Enter last night's adventure . . . "Respond for the fire alarm/First floor pull station/Building G"
This is a newer complex, so they keep adding on while we keep updating our map books. (Side note 1: The officer in charge of our map books is a little behind.) We head to said complex, and I'm manning the radio/map book in the squad. (Side note 2: We carry airpacks and gear on our squad because our call volume is rapidly outgrowing our number of personnel.) Suddenly I realize "Building G" does not exist on the map. Ok, well, whatever. It must be new, I know my alphabet, it can't be that hard to find. Right? Yeah not so much.
Our station covers a large area, part of which extends beyond the city limits. Thanks to contracts, politics and other problems we have quite a bit of rural area to cover. This complex is out far enough that it has its own streets, kind of like its own housing development. The elusive "Building G" is on its own street, not accessible from the street the engine turned down that had "Building F," go figure. . . So the few college students who have bothered to evacuate for the alarm are staring at us, from the other street, quiet for once in their life. Awesome.
So back to my original point, there are NO exterior markings on these buildings visible from the street to denote what is what. The only markings are on the entrances, by the door, about the size of a 5x7 card. Yeah, good luck with that. Hey Lieutenant, hand me the binoculars . . .

CVSA fun . . .

A friend of mine took a CVSA (computer voice stress analysis) for the city to move from part time to full time firefighter. He is the definition of Type A personality. He is also the most anxious person EVER. He called me almost in tears with this . . .
"It told me I beat the wife that I don't have!!!!"
Poor kid . . . he had to go talk with the fire chief. But he still got the job at least.