A Glimpse of My Glimpse...

During my last tour at work, my department sent my squad to a vehicle extrication training exercise in a neighboring jurisdiction. This drill was sponsored by an insurance firm, which was generous enough to donate a vehicle that had been totaled in a car crash, as well as dinner and drinks for all the area firefighters who attended the free training (who could ask for anything more?). Such training is offered as an altruistic public service of the private sector insurance company to help firefighters prepare in advance for the obstacles and dangers they may face in the course of extricating a person from the heap of wreckage that could once be described as an automobile. A car can be a tricky thing to navigate when it has sustained an impact with a stationary object after traveling fifty-plus miles per hour. It becomes a crumpled puzzle that takes some ingenuity to unravel. This drill also helps increase our situational awareness to the dangers that exist during extrications, such as undeployed airbags, which pose great risk to our own personal safety.

In my department, the reality of it is this, when the police need help rendering aid they call for the firefighters, when the firefighters need help rendering aid they call for the rescue squad. The specially trained rescue squad sweeps in and with a bevy of tools and hydraulic machinery (such as the 'jaws of life'), they quickly dismantle the car, piece by jagged piece until all that is left to do is lift the patient to safety. As a firemedic in my department, it would be a rare occasion that I would be called upon to operate such machinery. I will more likely find myself tucked under a wool blanket inside the vehicle compartment, providing soothing words and emergent medical care to the injured patient who is the focus of our rescue efforts. So, for me the drill was interesting but what happened after was even more so.

After the car was broken down into several pieces and the drill concluded, I returned to my medic unit with my Lieutenant. Just as we were doffing our turnout gear, a thin 30'ish, light-skinned African American man and his 13 year old son approached us. He asked that his son be checked out as he was complaining that his heart was racing. Racing it was, the young boy had an elevated heart rate of about 145 beats per minute. The father explained to us that the boy was suffering from anxiety and stress due to his mother dying only two months before. The young man started crying as his father explained this to us, and the father confided in us that he and his son were seeking counseling to deal with the loss of the boy's mother. The father also looked like he was under considerable stress as he explained that he had been a single, part-time father who loved his son but had not been prepared to care for him on his own. He was trying to find his way as a full-time father while also being a support for the boy that sat hunched over in tears on my cot in the back of my medic unit. Within less than five minutes time I was given a most intimate glimpse of this father and son's life and relationship. We were outside of our jurisdiction, but my partner and I conducted a thorough check of the young boy, even hooking him up to our cardiac monitor, to ease his mind. After several minutes of calming reassurance the boy's heart rate slowed down considerably. He was a well spoken young man, going through a very difficult time and he needed a few minutes of attention and an opportunity to talk about his feelings. After a short while, the boy climbed out of the unit with sense of relief and higher spirits than before. The father thanked us for all that we had done (although in truth it wasn't much) as he shook our hands before walking back into the night with his arm around his son. I know time would be the only thing that would truly ease the boy's pain.

This job gives us a glimpse into people's lives, often at most trying and vulnerable times. We see people when their guards are down and their emotions are raw. This glimpse is what I feel gives me perspective - perspective to understand the depth of emotion that life can entail. I am fortunate enough to gain this perspective without having to experience the raw emotion first hand. I am invited into the bedroom of the dying affluent 38 year old female who seemingly has all the finer things in life except her health, I am called upon to tend to the 4 year old little girl who smiles at me from her wheelchair as she shows me the pictures of heaven that she drew because she has a rare form of muscular dystrophy and knows she will not reach adulthood, I try to start the IV on the 6 year old child with cerebral palsy wearing fire truck pajamas as he seizes in his bed, I check the vital signs on the intoxicated alcoholic mother who is in stage 4 liver failure as her 14 year old son looks on. Sometimes I feel enraged by things I see, sometimes I feel humbled and frustrated by my limited ability to assist, and often I want to rescue those I treat (especially the children) from the situation they are in. I'd like to save them from the sadness and chaos, and bring them to my home and tuck them safely in amidst the soft pillows and clean blankets in my guest bedroom. I have learned that I have to accept that everyone has a road they must travel, and lessons they will be faced with along the way. This is part of their journey, and I am but a momentary observer. I truly believe that everything happens for a reason, although when you are in the middle of the storm the reason may not be so clear. In the moment, we see a little girl dying of a debilitating disease, but perhaps what we can't see is that her brother will be so motivated by her loss that he will go on to study and find a cure for the illness which stole his little sister. Subscribing to this philosophy is what helps me, and probably many in my field, accept the things we see without being totally crushed by them. Blogging about it all doesn't hurt either. :-)

I am grateful to have these glimpses, and that is why I pass them on - a glimpse of my glimpse as it were. It reminds me of how appreciative I am of my life. I am fortunate to be able to come home and hug my healthy little girls and loving husband. I feel life has so many layers, and it is easy to be distracted by the superficial things that seem so important on a daily basis. Such experiences help to remind me to "not sweat the small stuff". I feel a great connection with life, I feel that I am truly plugged into the highs and lows that life holds, and the lows make me appreciate the highs all the more. This is all part of my journey, and I am trying to learn as much as I can along the way.