Fire and Rescue

~ Maryland Task Force One ~

Posted on November 3, 2012 by mamaboe

Here’s the thing.  I’m a writer.  Ipso Facto, I have boatloads of imagination and creativity.  Sure, I use obscure Latin phrases inappropriately to sound smarter than I really am, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have boatloads of imagination.  It certainly comes in handy when I’m writing heavily exaggerated to the point of absolute falsehood in order for it to be funny  stories.

But it doesn’t come in handy when I’m home alone waiting by the phone, or computer, or toilet, to hear from My Captain when he is deployed on a rescue mission.  My Captain is the Rescue Manager for Maryland Task Force One’s deployment to New York and New Jersey for Hurricane Sandy…aka Frankenstorm.  I haven’t seen him for a week.

This is nothing to military wives, I realize.  But guess what I ain’t, and never signed up for?

That’s right.  Being a military wife.

I just don’t have the patience or fortitude to live life constantly waiting.   I hate waiting.  I’m the one who stands in front of the microwave, yelling at her instant oatmeal, “HURRY!”    I sure as hell could never be a military wife.

So when My Captain gets deployed for Urban Search and Rescue…whether it be a collapse rescue as when he served at the Oklahoma City Bombing, or at the Pentagon, or in Mississippi during Katrina…I squirm.  I cringe.  I whine.

He left on Saturday for work at the firehouse at 5:30 am.  He worked a full shift, and the next day, his rescue team got activated ahead of the storm.

Then came Frankenstorm, unleashing all its Hell and Fury.  We had purchased a generator ahead of time because we always, ALWAYS lose power during big storms.

Guess what I never lost?

That’s right, power.  Why?  Because we bought the generator.

So listen, he’s gone from last Saturday on, right?  The storm comes.  I’m feverishly bailing out parts of the basement that are leaking.   I’m mitigating the flow of water around the mud pit.  I’m filling water bottles and putting candles everywhere in case I need them.  I’m eating everything in the fridge.

Not because I had to, more because it was, well, there.

My munchkins were at their Dad’s house, because it’s made of brick, not straw like mine.  (I obviously was never read The Three Little Pigs as a child. )

And that is when it kicked in.

My Awe Inspiring (to me, anyways) Imagination.

In all its glory.

I began imagining My Captain in all kinds of debacles.  I began to see him drowning in some flash flood in the middle of Long Island, calling my name ever so romantically before he went under for the last time.  I began to picture him being mauled by a pack of angry, starving looters in Queens.  And with his dying breath, he whispered, “Just tell her I loved her.”  I saw him getting run over  and trampled to death by his own men and women as they raced to the mess tent for their ration of hot Spam.

Really, I can’t be left alone for long periods of time.  It’s just not healthy for me, frankly.

Last night….Thursday!….I finally had a chance to talk to him in detail of where they were and how they were.

Turns out they are ok.  Tired.  Fairly battle-weary.  Frustrated.  But essentially, Ok.

He told me bits and pieces of his last few days, and I listened.  I heard of the mess and the challenge ahead of those states as they rebuild.  I heard of the strength and perseverance of the people there and the team that went with him.  I heard the fatigue in his voice.

And then he asked me how my week had been.

“I think some acorns dented my car!”  Was all I could come up with.  My life is, as ever, incredibly mundane.  If it were not for my verging-on-diagnosable-in-the-field-of-psychology imagination, I’m not sure I’d survive it.

Turns out he needed a little mundanity.  A little something to ground him.  Something to reset his compass.

Oh don’t worry, I didn’t inundate him.  I didn’t tell him about the cat puke I stepped in this afternoon, or the way I stapled one of the fourth grade bulletin boards in my son’s classroom so perfectly, or the infinitely interesting details of my shopping trip for Varmint’s friend, Alexis’, birthday gift.

I’m saving those little nuggets for when he comes home.

Categories: Fire and Rescue, Urban Search and Rescue | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

~ Is Something Burning? ~

Posted on October 22, 2012 by mamaboe

We were at our new friend’s house tonight.  They had bought a wonderful hundred-year-old farm-house on a few acres, complete with a big red barn worthy of any children’s book.  (Go find The Big Red Barn if you have never read it.  Then come back to this post and go “AH!”)

It was a cool, crisp, clear night…one that was supposed to be full of shooting stars due to a rare meteor shower.   All of us had lifted our eyes to the stars, sipping Hot Cider that Jackie and Dave had ever-so-kindly warmed for us in a Dutch Oven over the bonfire.  The dogs were out running around the barnyard with Critter and Jeremy and Jesse.  Varmint and her friend Julia cuddled near and were, like us, searching the night sky.

The crickets chirped and sang.

Wood smoke wafted through the air.

And then…

“AUGH!!!”  Varmint rocked back too far in her campchair trying to better see the sky, and fell (as my Dad would say) ‘ass-over-teakettle’.  All we could see were her feet flailing wildly in the air as we gasped and laughed.

And then…

“AUAUAUAUAAHAHHGHGHGH!”

In her descent, Varmint’s chair had caught the camp table behind her…… the table that held the hot dogs and condiments and cider.  And it was all slowly dumping on top of her!

My Captain rushed over to help her.  Jackie and David rushed over to help her.  Even the dogs rushed over to….well, I think they were in truth looking for the fallen hot dogs….but me, I sat where I had been, laughing so loudly and forcefully, it caused my rump to sing.  (That’s polite-talk for ‘fart’.)

Which made me laugh harder. … because I’m immature and love potty-humor.

Don’t judge.

They got her up, brushed her off, and got all the furniture set to rights.  Varmint was, as always, a good sport and I was very proud of her behavior!

But something didn’t smell right.

At first, of course, I figured it was me.  I mean, I was the one who had just had the singing-butt.

But the smell didn’t dissipate.

In fact, the fart stench started to smell like a burnt fart stench.

I glanced down at the fire.  There, in the middle of the blaze, was one of Dave’s fireproof gloves.  It had evidently gotten tossed into the fire in the fray and frenzy of Varmint’s upending.

And, er, it turns out that, well……

They ain’t so fireproof.

They had burned.  Everyone started saying things like, “I WONDERED what that smell was!”  and I was relieved no one actually pointed at me.

Now, what I want to know is this: What in tarnation is in those fire-RETARDANT (because fire-proof they surely are not,) gloves to make them smell like the fart of a middle-aged soccer mom?  Or, conversely, what is in my rectum that makes my fluffies smell like burning fire-retardant-treated leather?

Someone figure it out and get back to me, please.

Thank you.

Categories: Fire and Rescue, Urban Search and Rescue | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

~ A Few Good Medics ~

Posted on April 16, 2012 by mamaboe

One of the seasoned medics in our Recert Class today gets so frustrated with some of the firefighters he works with, because they aren’t as interested in the EMS side of things as they are the Fire Suppression side of things.  He took a few lines from the movie “A Few Good Men” to drive home the point that they HAVE to understand the importance of EMS within their job.  I loved it.

I begged him to let me share it with you, but he said he would only do it on the condition of anonymity.

So, without further ado, for your enjoyment,  Ladies and Gentlemen, May I present to you (…you see, the joke here is that this is all further ado.  Oh, never mind.)

A Few Good Medics

Kaffee:  Colonel Jessep, is EMS the backbone of the fire service?

Judge:  You don’t have to answer that question!

Col. Jessep:  I’ll answer the question!  You want answers?

Kaffee:  I think I’m entitled.

Col. Jessup:  You want answers?

Kaffee:  I want the truth!

Col. Jessup:  You can’t handle the truth!  Son, we live in a world of sick people, and those people have to get to the hospital by men in ambulances.  Who’s going to do it? You?  You, Lt. Weinburg?

I have a greater responsibility than you can fathom.  You weep for the firefighters and curse EMS.  You have the luxury of not knowing what I know.  That you don’t fight many fires, though tragic, is a fact.  And our existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives.  You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about at the firehouse, you want us on that ambulance, you need us on that ambulance.

We use words like Compassion. Caring. Empathy.  We use these words as the backbone of a service dedicated to the community.

You use them as a punchline.

I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very service that we provide, then treat us like the bastard children of the department.  I would rather you just said “Thank you,” and went on your way.

Otherwise, I suggest you pick up an aide bag and ride an ambulance.  Either way, I don’t give a damn what you think you are entitled to.

Kaffee:  Is EMS the backbone of the fire service?

Col. Jessep:  We do the job.

Kaffee:  Is EMS the backbone of the fire service?

Col. Jessep:  You’re Goddamn right it is!

End Scene

Did that give you chills, or what?  It gave me chills.  Maybe it makes more sense to people actually involved in Fire and Rescue, but you get the idea.

EMS is like the red-headed stepchild of Fire and Rescue, and I don’t understand why.   It’s the most important part of what it’s all about.  Maybe it is because so many citizens abuse the system, and use 911 for non-emergent calls.  Maybe it’s because so many people thank their doctors and nurses, but forget about the EMTs and Medics who get them there.  Maybe it’s because mopping up blood and urine and vomit is never as glamorous as you might think it is (DO you think it is?).

You never see or smell the vomit on EMS related TV shows.   And believe me, there is a lot of Vomit in EMS.   Vomit doesn’t sell, apparently.  If it did, you would see more vomit on TV and in the movies.  But vomit doesn’t sell.

And that is all I have to say about Vomit.

Except that the smell is really unglamorous.

And nasty.

And dry-heave inducing.

Hey….now that I think about it, that might be one of the reasons EMS is the red-headed stepchild of the Fire and Rescue service.  They can’t handle the vomit!

Categories: Fire and Rescue | Tags: , , , , , , | 3 Comments

~ A Beefy Guy Named ‘Cupcake’ ~

Posted on January 31, 2012 by mamaboe

When I was studying to become a Paramedic, one of my preceptors name was ‘Cupcake’.  Actually, it’s his nickname, but no one uses his birth name.  And, in fact, Cupcake is most often called ‘Cuppy’ by those who know and love him well. He’s got a nickname for his nickname.  Don’t see that too often, do ya?

Sometimes people will ask why we call him this ridiculous name.  I’ll get to that in a moment.

Understand, Cuppy is a BIG guy.  In all ways.  Strapping. Strong. and oddly, Cherubic.  I don’t know how those all mesh together, but he makes it work.

Cuppy has a fantastic sense of humor.  No prank is too big or too small for him.  And he’s no dummy, either.  Graduated from George Washington University.  Is a member of Maryland Task Force One’s Urban Search & Rescue Team.  Teaches Paramedicine.  Teaches Scuba.  Teaches Sailing.  Loves motorcycles.  Loves his Whiskey, and an occasional cigar…but only if he’s been at his whiskey.   Has a laugh and a smile that is more infectious than half the diseases we transport in the Medic units.  (ew.)

So here’s the story:  He was fresh out of the Fire Academy’s Training class…about to embark on his Rookie year at Germantown Fire Station 29.  Knowing it is customary for a Rookie to bring good eats for the whole shift his first day, he stopped by the station to ask them what would be a good food item to bring.  It happened to be a different shift than the one he was joining.  With a smile, a seasoned, leather-skinned, wise-ass Lt. suggested he bring…. cupcakes.

So, in he waltzed on day one, and made his first impression to his manly-man co-workers…. the men and women with whom he would be fighting fires side-by-side….the men and women who would be counting on his manly man-ness to have their backs…the men and women who were currently in a shift-wide weight loss challenge…. with three boxes of cupcakes.  You could have heard a pin drop.  Mouths went agape.  Eyebrows raised. Finally, one of his new shiftmates, in no uncertain terms, let him know, “BOY!  You can’t bring cupcakes to a fire station on your first day!  You gotsta bring Meat!  Preferably Red!  What kind of fool idea is this? Where did you get this hairbrained idea?” (I’m paraphrasing…)  He sheepishly admitted that the other shift suggested it….which explained everything.

And thus Cupcake was introduced to his new fire fighter family as the Dupe to another Shift’s “gotcha”.

And his new name was born.

And he’ll never live it down.

On a more serious note, Cupcake’s real name is actually Chris, and he was always more kind to me, more patient with me, and more understanding with me than anyone else in all the stations I have ever ridden.  I’ll never forget him.

Or the time he tied my bootstring to a patient’s cot when I wasn’t looking.

Bastard.

“.

Categories: Fire and Rescue | Tags: , , , , , | 4 Comments

~ O Captain, My Captain: A Picture Story ~

Posted on January 19, 2012 by mamaboe

See this guy?

He one of the seasoned Captains within Montgomery County Fire and Rescue. He is also a seasoned rescue technician with Maryland Task Force 1’s Urban Search & Rescue Team. With the rest of the hardened, heroic MD-TF1 team, he searched and worked the rubble pile at the Oklahoma City Bombing. The Pentagon on 9/11. Hurricane Katrina. And many others. He’s a Paramedic. He’s a Station Commander. He’s a teacher, a leader, a husband, and a father, but first and foremost, a Firefighter.  Meet Captain/Firefighter/Paramedic Troy Lipp.

See this guy?

This is the same Captain, in the great wilds of Glacier, Montana.  Here he is using one of his newest tools: an ultraviolet light water purifier.  He’s always happy when he has a new gadget.  Rescue Techs are like that.

See this guy?

It’s the same guy, same place, but with neato-cool focus on the glacial melt water of McDonald Creek. He’s humored at the photographer’s artsy-fartsiness.

See this guy?

Here is the Captain on the top of Mount Apgar trying to catch a view of a hawk or pterodactyl or something.  I was too distracted by his muscular back and arms to notice.  It was a very steep, gruelling hike up a jagged mountain.  I think I threw up halfway up.  He carried me the rest of the way, jogging.

See this guy?

This is the same Captain, about to get on a horse named “Shrek”.  I found that hiLARious. He found my hilarity hilarious.

Same Captain, with favorite beverage in hand after breaking the wild and tempestuous Shrek.  It was touch and go for a while.

See this guy?

This is the Captain quietly and patiently waiting for his bride to meet him on the mountain to say vows of love.  True story: just before the vows were exchanged he whipped out his Pocket Knife and picked a piece of parsley out of her teeth with it.  Rescue techs are like that.

See this guy?

This is what he looks like happy and loved.

See this?
mooses1
This is a Moose.

Post Script Note:   This post will most likely be used to tease, cajole, harass, embarrass, and most likely torque the Captain by his Shift.  Life is hard sometimes, you have to be tough.

Categories: Family, Fire and Rescue, Urban Search and Rescue | Tags: , , , , | 9 Comments

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