Friday, January 13, 2012


It may not get harder but it certainly doesn't get any easier. 

I held a dying woman in my arms last shift.  

To put it into very unpoetic words:  that call sucked ass. 

And as we packed her up onto the stretcher she whispered to her husband :  'good-bye my baby...I love you', a piece of my heart broke off then and there, and dropped right onto the rainy-soaked pavement.

No need to say there were extra hugs and kisses for my children when I got home.

No matter how bad a day I think I might be having, I must remember everyday above ground is better than the alternative. 

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

courage, my love

I could just cry. 

Maiya wept her  big brown eyes  out last night saying 'I want Daddy to come back and live wif us together'.  I rocked and held her sitting cross legged in the laundry room floor silently praying and hoping one day she would understand.

How was I supposed to explain to a barely three-year-old the intricate workings of two grown ups who are trying to find their way?

So instead of saying anything, I just continued to rock her and murmured softly into her tousled hair that she was ok. And that we were all ok. 

But I think those words weren't  so much for her but for me. 

Courage my little Maiya. Courage, my Love. Mama is here and I love you. 

Monday, January 9, 2012


Oddly these days, there is an ache that took me by surprise and encircles my ring finger. A phantom pain from the wedding band I once wore. It's weird. Because half the time I never wore it anyway because of my job and all the sports I play. Now all of a sudden it aches.

Perhaps it's because the tendons in my hands are messed up from of all the rock climbing and bouldering I've been doing lately. But more likely it's because I was cleaning out a long-forgotten chest of drawers and came across a a jewel encrusted ring of gold that I once called my engagement ring..... a symbol that held so much promise, so much hope. When I saw it, in its perfect Tiffany-blue box, I just about stopped breathing..... not so much out of sadness, or from wanting, but from all the happy memories that came flooding back to me that I had somehow forgotten about as my marriage slowly dissolved over the years. Because I was too caught up in my own misery to remember the beautiful times. Now that I have had time to heal and breathe, I can see how we did love each other, and still do, in our own quiet way, even if it means we aren't together as husband and wife. We've all made mistakes and there is no blame. It is what it is, and I embrace everything that has happened to me as part of my life's story.

shut out

Another shut out yesterday on shift. Pumper went out to a few calls but I was on the ladder truck and we didn't turn a wheel. While some guys love a once-in-awhile shift of not running around, this gal likes to move, and run like the wind............ and feel like she has earned her keep by going to as many emergency calls she can get her hands on.

I'm no altruistic saint and I have to admit, running calls is not necessarily for the satisfaction of helping people or for being tagged with the label rescuer or that ridiculous word 'hero'. Rather, running calls is often a way for me to settle down and quiet my mind on those days that I am not able to attain stillness because the gears are spinning too fast up there. A tough call can snap me back to reality and help me see all the things that are beautiful in my life. This is why I have always said that I am grateful to be of service to the public in any way, shape or form, because as much as they think I am helping them, I wish they could see how much they are helping me..... they take away the raw edges of whatever I happen to be going through in my life, and smooth away the sharpness of any pain or sadness I might be feeling. They help me get outside of that self-centred part of my head..... a place where we all often reside way too much.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

sweet slumber

Oh I need it. Sleep that is. Just dragged my sorry arse into the loft after a long 24 hours at work. Well 25 if you include the commute. I don't like to whine or complain how tired I am because we all lead busy, hectic lives and we are all spent to some degree or another but right now, yes, I must whine and say I am tired. To the bone. It was all I could do to take my gear off the truck at the end of shift.... everything weighed a ton. Shoulders feel like they are going to pop off. Job is still the light of my life but man, wish it were easier on the ol' bod.

I have about half an hour to enjoy a hot shower, a cup of tea and some toast then switch gears and head into mommy mode. Another 12 hours and I get to sleep!

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

turned to stone

OMG. What a way to ring in the New Year. 

I just saw an eighty year old snatch.   

And I may have to seek crisis counseling.   Or yell at my rookie for not covering her caboose. 

Why oh why whenever we have to do a lift assist at 3 am people tend to not have their panties on?  I mean, don't they know the cardinal rule is to always wear your nice gitch in case the fire department arrives?  I mean, I am guilty of wearing my fugly Fruit of the Looms instead of Victoria's Secret but who wants to run around in itchy lace all day?  Regardless of the brand, make or style, I am still wearing something  called underpants

God help me.  That old gal's privates are forever  burned in my head. 

They do not pay me enough for this.