We are starting our new series, “The Firefighter Chronicles: Stories About Firefighters, For Firefighters and Those Who Love Them.”

These stories are inspired by you – for those who proudly identify yourselves as ‘Firefighters, EMT’s and First Responders’, about the heroic actions you do – day in and day out and for those who support you in everything you do on the job, in your community and as family.

[Disclaimer:  All stories in this series are considered fictional.  Material, such as names, places and incident details are being used fictious, to obscure actual events that may or may not have happened in the past or present times.]

 

UNSUNG HEROES

 I remember the day, as if it were yesterday, when I was faced with my first official aid call – a few blocks from the fire station.  My adrenaline pulsated through my veins – anxious to get out to the scene but knew I had to keep everything in check.  Focusing on our future tasks at hand, would be key to our patient’s success to their survival. 

Responding to the scene, I remember our sirens blaring, as we cleared each intersection cautiously – with our red lights flashing to get drivers to move to the right.  However, as we train for and sometimes find – some don’t heed our warnings and can’t see the obvious happening around them.  Some are distracted for whatever reason, can cause us to have a delayed response or, in this case – become involved in a MVA.

I remember the violent impact vividly striking the passenger side of the vehicle, exactly where I was sitting.  In an instant, everything seemed to grow dark – then silent.  Things seemed to stop in motion.

I must have been knocked out for a period of time – for however long it must have been and came to in confusion.  The aid unit was on its side, leaving us out there in the middle of the intersection.  We were vulnerable like sitting ducks.  The mangled tin box survived and so, had we – barely.  My partner asks if I am okay. I remember thinking, I should be the one asking if he is alright.  He looks way worse than I do.

Dangling from an odd position in the passenger seat, I remembering the blood rushing to my head and later finding I needed to tend to my injured partner.  Some how, I had cut myself loose without managing to fall down directly on my partner.  He says he saw a vehicle hit us, causing us to flip numerous times.  He says he’s okay and demands to be pulled from the wreckage – not to be treated himself, but to check on the injured all around us. 

At that moment, I realize we are both injured but with only minor cuts and scrapes.  He knows there are other cars involved, possibly more serious injuries than we have suffered ourselves.  I agreed.

We managed to climb outside of the rig, stumbling to our feet, taking in the view of pile crumpled up metal with a total of five vehicles involved, including ours suffering some major damage.  The perfectly sunny afternoon is quickly turning into a nightmare for some, turning all of our focused energy and undivided attention on those who are counting on us.  We kick it into overdrive selflessly. This is what we live for and what we do.

We check on “our” patients triaging them, leaning on our basic EMT skills, treating the wounded until more advanced resources arrive.  Some have minor injuries.  Others more serious.

Sirens screamed in the distance get closer and closer, until they have reached our destination.  We were relieved by arriving crews and good thing, because we suffered more serious injuries than our own conscience would allow us to believe. 

Transported to area hospitals, I felt nervous riding in the back of that medic unit.  However, I am thankful that both myself and my partner have lived through that almost fateful day, knowing how many people we were able to help.  We would later be hailed as Heroes for our actions and saving lives of many on that day.  The person who hit us was texting and driving, completely clueless, dying as a result of her actions.

Some say we are Heroes in how we showed our unconditional compassion for others and blocking out the fact we were injured. I say we were just doing what we were originally called to do – to help those in their greatest need; on their worst day in life. 

We are not in it for the recognition of our actions, but for the love of living the dream of being a firefighter.  It is who we are. It is what we are made of.  And, most importantly, what we are called to do.

(c) 2013 The NW Fire Blog

(c) 2013 LR Swenson/Author of Seattle Mourn