duh

Apparently I have been living under a rock. Late last night we had a call where a bunch of teenagers who had taken their mom's minivan for a ride,decided to get stoned on koosh. Now forgive me if I have misspelt that word but up until that call I had no idea what that word meant. I thought koosh was some sort of exotic tobacco. But the way those kids were wigging out and carrying on I assumed it had to be something else. When the police rolled up I asked him if he knew what koosh was. He rolled his eyes and said 'it's marijuana' and gave me the I-can't-believe-you-didn't-know look. Lol. In that moment I totally felt old and out of touch. I was a child of the seventies and while I didn't smoke it back then it was called pot, weed, ganja..... So kids, here's my little public service announcement. If on a Friday night you feel like taking your mom's dodge caravan and getting high on koosh with your teenage buddies......just don't. Because in this case you will wig out, literally pee your pants and your heart will start racing to the point you are asking everyone on scene if you are dying, which of course you are not but you're paranoid so you're freaking out while the cops and the medics are trying to act professional and stop themselves from laughing at this somewhat comical scene.  I do have to admit that much to my chagrin I broke my own professional code of conduct and let out a chuckle..... when the teens asked the coppers to stop by McDonald's before they went the hospital.  Must have been some damn good weed..... uhm... I mean koosh.  ;)

tantrums

I am used to them.  Or rather, I have developed somewhat of a tolerance to them.  My children have gone through their challenging moments and I have learned the best way to deal with them is to be calm and remain cool and the eye of the storm and they spin about me.......

So it is without question my children have been good practice for me in dealing with some of the more difficult 'customers' I come across in my work.

There was the combative 85-year-old male who kept trying to hit, bite, kick, and scratch us.  Believe it or not, it took four of us firefighters to hold him down in a manner so he wouldn't be a danger to himself or us.

There was the woman who would not stop yelling obscenities and spitting and us.

There was another woman who was faking her symptoms so poorly we didn't know whether to laugh or roll our eyes.  When my children do the 'fakies' I have to do my best to stifle a big giggle while act concerned.

Some days at work I feel like I should win an Oscar for the roles I have to play with patients.  But maybe it's the patients who are vying for the trophy as they put on quite the production.  Minute fender benders often produce the most comical efforts in pretend neck and back injury.  We just package them up and breathe a sigh of relief when the ambulance arrives to take them off our hands.

The other night I had some huge dude scream at me as I tried to pick him off the floor.  He was yelling to 'get this broad outta here!'.  So I did what any good broad was supposed to do:

I picked him up from under the armpits and strapped him to the stretcher.  If I had a muzzle I might have decided to use it as well.  But I am too much of a lady to do such a thing.  Booyah.

rookies

I have a soft spot for rookies.

I was raised in the firehouse culture under the 'old school' style of captains where the rookies were barked at, did not move or make a sound unless told to, and basically weren't worth their weight in the gear they were wearing until they became first class firefighters. My first two years were a struggle of self-doubt and a bundle of nerves. I felt like every move I made was under scrutiny and dissection, every mistake I made was magnified and broadcast. My first captain would have me stand out in the middle of the winter and pump water from the engine till my fingers and toes froze. He would almost make me cry. It actually got so bad that there were moments I questioned my decision to become a firefighter in the first place. I mean, what was I thinking trying to actually fit into this all boys club? I probably would have flourished under a gentler, more understanding captain. But in hindsight, this old crotchety captain did me the biggest favour imaginable: he made a fireman out of me. I would never be the biggest, nor the brawniest, nor the best.... but I learned to be very good at what I do and think things through methodically, and push myself even when I felt like quitting. Those first hard years in the school of hard knocks taught me to dig deep. In some ways, I feel like a rookie all over again. In my new position as Acting Captain, I feel the pressure even more because I have a crew I am responsible for. And if I am first on scene, I am in charge of the call and in command which can be daunting when multiple crews are hanging off your every word waiting to see what you will tell them to do. That's when I pray I don't choke and stutter under the pressure. So I have to remind myself to just breathe and be confident that I know my stuff...... and my command presence will grow with my experience, which you can't gain overnight.

So yes, I have a soft spot for rookies.

Because I know how new beginnings can be daunting. I do not coddle rookies and I am firm when necessary. And I try to be fun. But I will never ever bark at them or make them feel small. Because it is all about team building..... and not ego bashing. And whenever I have the privilege of having a rookie work with me at a fire, I make sure that the more senior guys hand over the nozzle to the rookie. Because there is nothing more priceless than seeing a rookie's eyes light up the first time he puts out his first battle with fire. This is our duty as senior firefighters, to pass on knowledge and skills to others, and I thank those who have taught and shared their knowledge and experience with me so that I may continue to learn and to never stop growing in this incredible career that still humbles me to the core.

warning: graphic

Last shift was brutal. A guy decided to take his life and set himself on fire inside his car. I was first on scene and the words out of my mouth upon seeing him were "oh buddy what did you do?". There was nothing me or my crew could do except declare a Code 5 and wait for the police, fire investigator, and the coroner to arrive. And try to console the family members who found him the best we could.

If you've never seen a burnt body, I hope you never do. It is ghastly. And I didn't sleep very well that night in the dorm. Because every time I shut my eyes I would see him , what was left of him. As odd as it sounds, I was thankful and comforted by eight snoring and farting men around me while I lay awake struck with insomnia. My blissfully asleep crewmates made me feel safe and I reminded myself the images in my mind would fade with time, and counted the hours till shift was over so I could hold my children in my arms and tell them 'I love you' a thousand times over.

tears....

.....of joy.

I was called an angel on earth by a woman regarding the work that I do.

Not sure why I felt this surge of emotion but if this is the work that the Big Guy Upstairs has given me while I walk this planet then I will take it.

So I continue to promise that at every call I will muster up all my courage and give my commitment and compassion to each and everyone I meet. I have no idea really how a small town girl like me ended up in the big city doing what I do but I guess this is where the wind blew me and some huge inner voice told me that this was my calling.

Thank you to everyone who has helped me to get here.

heat

As much as it kills me to work when it's hot and summery out, I love being at work when it's hot and summery out. Especially on those hot humid nights when all is still and quiet. When it's just you and your crew and the firetruck cruising the streets you feel like you own the town. That sweaty feeling we get wearing full bunker gear while doing our job (while joe public in their right minds are wearing shorts and flip flops) makes you feel like you've earned your keep.

We've had unseasonably warm weather this past week and I'm on cloud nine. I can't be unhappy in the heat..... Which is perhaps why I became a firefighter. There is nothing that makes me feel more alive doing what we do. There is no better and crazier feeling than standing in the middle of a fire and feeling like you are somewhere halfway between heaven and hell. Soon as we punch in at the beginning of a shift we hope the alarm sounds and we can feel again what it's like to stand in the middle of a blaze of glory. To touch it for a sec before we put it out.
And wait for the next one so we can feel the heat once again.

keep your mouth shut

One thing that I never ever say at calls is "He/she/it is going to be fine" because that is between that person and their god and the team of doctors or their insurance company to decide. How can I say they will be fine when I don't know their history, their life story, how they deal with things? And what their pain tolerance might be? How can I make a promise like that?  I have seen people walk away without a scratch after  being extricated from a car that looked like a crushed soda can.  And I've also seen people perish from a small bump on their head when they tripped on the sidewalk.

Another thing I never ever say to someone who is grieving is "I understand". Although well intentioned, the only person who can understand the pain is that person.  I'm particularly sensitive lately when I hear these words uttered at calls. In fact I cringe. Partly because it brings me back to the tough time when my husband and I split. As I signed the separation papers my dragon-lady lawyer touched my arm and said "I understand".  I pulled my arm away and said "Oh do you?  Are you a mother?  Do you know what it's like to have to sit your children down and explain why Daddy isn't living here anymore ". I really wanted to tell her to go F herself but my mother raised me better than that and my lawyer was just going through her lawyerly routine and I was just a number and a damn big number if you knew what lawyers charge these days so I didn't want to take up one more moment of her condescending billable hours.  Bollocks. My pain is my lawyer's gain.

I also hate it when men, upon trying to pick me up say "I get it. I am divorced too". Uhm. No.  You have no freaking clue. Get your head out of your narcissistic ass.  Because first of all if you knew me well enough to even make that dumbass comment, you would know that I am separated and not divorced. Even though divorce is pending and imminent.  And what makes you think that your break up is anything remotely similar to mine?  What makes you think you can get close to me because you happen to think we have that horrible common denominator. Sheesh.

Ok. Rant over. Whew.  Glad I got that out of my system.  lol

DRD

One of the most panicky calls I've had so far when acting as Captain was not a raging inferno but a pretty straightforward medical call. And what I mean by straightforward was that the dude was DRD. As in dead-right-there. We walked into the house, police were already present (said officer coolly mumbled to me 'oh yeah he's done' ). My crew assessed the gentleman and although his body was still warm because he was still in bed under the covers, rigor had set in his jaw and he had lividity on his back. So, I called in a code 5 (obvious signs of death) to dispatch saying we wouldn't be performing any defib protocol. You can imagine my horror when the paramedics arrived and examined the body and turned to me saying that the lividity looked like bruising and his jaw wasn't all that stiff. They were glaring at me as they proceeded to hook up the 12 lead. I knew the guy was dead. I mean I thought he was dead. But self doubt had me going and now I was unsure. I was inwardly freaking as the ECG spit out the reading.

As selfish as it sounds, I never wished until this moment for anyone to stay dead.

Because I would never live down the guilt of failing to provide CPR and due care.

Turns out we made the right call. He was dead. Massive heart attack in his sleep. Although never a happy situation, probably one of the better ways to go.

a gift of healing

One of my dearest girlfriends sent me this poem she came across and I had to post it because with all the changes in my life, the words were so powerful and appropriate.......


After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning 
And company doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong,
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn...
With every goodbye you learn. 

Thank you my Michelle. You have been such a source of strength and one of the most incredible women I know. It is such a joy to be your friend. xo

uhm excuse me sirs but your place is on fire

Question: How drunk do you have to be to stay inside your one room apartment when your kitchen is on fire?

Scenario: We barrelled through the door to find not one but two men having a little party amongst themselves. Dude 1 was sitting in a chair drinking beer and rockin' the tunes. Dude 2 we thought was dead. But once my crewmate started to drag him out his eyes popped open and he immediately reached for two beers. Meanwhile we were trying to evacuate Dude 1 but he wouldn't leave until he gathered up his 40 of vodka and two more beers.

I have never seen anything as funny and somewhat sad. This place was full of smoke and they wouldn't leave until they saved their booze.

I guess you have to be pretty wasted to sit and watch your kitchen burn and not feel the slightest urge to leave. My next question would be what time do you have to start drinking to be completely bombed by 8 pm?!

Life is always interesting that is for sure. I'm just glad the smoke alarms were working and no one was hurt. It could have been a bad, bad call otherwise.

just another day on the trucks...

A bit blurry cuz it was taken by phone but how cute are we here? lol.
Just hanging in the back of the truck on the way home from a call... me and one of my favourite crewmates. He's 6"6 and comes in handy when you need someone to get up on a roof without a ladder or something out of the top cupboard.

phew

Surviving! For all the ups and downs I have been going through I am happy to say I am still moving forward and growing, rather than curled up in the fetal position on my couch which is where I would often rather reside. It could be the lack of sunshine this winter that has caused my melancholy blues the past few months but I think I am still recoiling from all the changes in my life. And as such, I have gone into a bit of a hibernation mode with my feelings and need for extreme privacy. Which is why I took down my blog for awhile because I worried that I had become a source of "entertainment' for some. But I realized that I needed to write, and get my thoughts and feelings out, otherwise, they would just keep swirling through my head at 3 am during an attack of insomnia. So here I am. Back. More or less unscathed albeit with a battle scar or two. Sadly, the battle is usually with myself. lol. Like not ok with being single, then knowing the world is my oyster. Feeling like I'm the best mom in the world, feeling like my kids deserve more than I can give..... Feeling like a rockstar at work, feeling like I don't know a thing. Feeling like I understand the word called 'love'. Realizing that I have no clue. But if I am to be honest with myself, I do know love. Perhaps I don't know romantic love, but I do know LOVE. It's all around me and it's in me. And it's unconditional. I didn't understand it until I learned how to love and heal, forgive myself, and really, really take care of my mind, body and soul. Sounds so silly and simple but it's true. I can only love someone as much as I love myself so it's my time now.

Another rambling post but hey..... it's been awhile since I've written so gotta start somewhere.......

sigh

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. 

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. 

life.....

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.

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!

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. 

this is it

It's getting close...... I can't believe another year has gone by. It's been quite the year..... crazy, ambitious, exciting, heart wrenching, soul searching, anguished.... and in all sincerity, it's been perfect, well, in a weird existential kind of way.

Somewhere along the way I made Acting Captain, waved a tearful goodbye to my marriage, explored the potential energy of people and their love, and survived the ups and downs of being a single shift-working mother. I am still in a state of complete and utter wonder at where I am at this point in my life. All I can say is that my heart is still full to the brim with love and room to spare and that despite all the bloodshed of heartache and the tsunami of tears, I wouldn't change a single thing. Because through the heartache and the tears, I found happiness and peace and I am free. I am free from the feeling of wanting or yearning. I am free from the desire of wishing my life or others lives were this way or that. I am free from wanting me to be more than or less than anyone else. I am free because I finally understand that I am enough. Right here right now I am enough...... because I realized I don't have to bend over backwards to fit in someone else's life, or to change who I am thinking that in doing so, I will be loved in return in the way that I need to be loved. And I no longer am afraid of what the future might hold. Because what I have is NOW and the next second from here I needn't worry about because the future will arrive and take care of itself. This freedom comes from accepting that life is difficult and full of inherent suffering simply because we are human and we are flawed. And instead of running away or numbing myself from the pain I can accept it, even welcome it, and then say good-bye to it like a bad houseguest when the pain no longer serves me. In understanding that my pain is transient, pain no longer feels, well, painful. This is huge for me because I fought unhappiness for years without realizing the pain was in the fighting. I have stepped out of the ring..... I no longer choose to fight anymore.

For the first time in my life I feel brave.

coppin' the 'tude (or show me watcha got)

Fuck it. (pardon the language but it just feels soooooo effin good to swear at this time of year)..... So yeah, fuck it. I've been waffling on posting this picture for ages now and decided to just go ahead and take the plunge. Ta da!
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Yeah, we had a housefire that got pretty hot so I just took off my clothes....... just kidding. I'm standing on the tailboard of the first truck I drove ten years ago. Photo was taken for a charity calendar and for some crazy reason I decided to volunteer to be Ms. October. I figured at the age of 41 cruel cruel gravity is going to set in soon so I might as well freeze frame a moment in time when good hair and make-up rules the day and my boobs are still firmly planted on my chest instead of dangling somewhere near my navel. And yeah, that is ink on my back. As in my entire back down to the crack of me bum. Aka mid life crisis. But that is a whole other post for another day.

Merry Christmas. (I keep telling myself if I keep saying it I will magically turn into Tinkerbell and spread my pixie dust cheer or at least grow her boobs). So yeah, Merry Christmas. Screw the eggnog. Headed straight for the tequila.