Chapter 6 - Big Feet

CHAPTER 6 Big Feet


Today is my day, Fathers Day and it is more excruciating to lay in bed and be quiet today. I have gotten a glimpse at almost every gift that I will be given today and I want to open those gifts. If I wake the house up, the start of the day will be strained for everyone. The dogs stir first, and head to the kitchen to position themselves in front of the sliding glass door. They will prance around until I let them out. While they are out, I will reheat a cup of coffee, while making a new pot. The dogs will come back in and wake the kids and Laura up. About 30 minutes later, the house is awake. A gradual start to the day is easier on everyone in the house, especially me. All of my charm, wit, and humor cannot alter the order that the house needs to wake up in.

Father’s day means breakfast in bed for me. Megan will want to make sure I am still in bed for this to count as breakfast in bed. The dogs are in the room and are sound asleep. I try to stare them awake, tap the headboard quietly, but they are both down soundly sleeping.  No longer able to take it, I roll over and scratch the dog’s head that is on the floor on my side of the bed. Her eyes open but she does not raise her head. I pull on her ears, poke her so she will stir and start the process. If she wakes up and goes the to sliding glass door I have started to process. The dog gives me a disgusted look and goes into the living room to lie down in front of the couch were I will not follow her.  I am reaching over to nudge the other dog, he has one bleary eye open and is looking at me.


Beep, Beep Beep.
Engine 3 respond to rollover accident I25 & Mile Marker 245

No one will be up for another hour or so. I shut off the pager slip on my pants and head out the door.
I always believe in worst case scenario, it is always worse than they say, more people involved, tools break, radio’s go dead, and there are never enough firefighters on the engine. This morning feels like the exception, it feels like nothing. I will go out, it will be nothing and I will have killed an hour or so, have cup of coffee at the station and still be able to slip between the sheets before the house is fully awake.

As I pull up to the station I see that Chris’s truck is already out front. He is already in his gear as I walk through the door. Chris is calm, measured and methodical in his approach to everything. We work together, play together, and ride together. Exceptionally cool under pressure, it is always a relief to see him at the station.

"Happy Father's Day" Chris says

"What you got planned..." he is interrupted as the station radio comes to life. 

Engine 3, Colorado State Patrol on scene is reporting party has been ejected.

Engine 3 en route status 2, please put Air Life on standby" 

 I acknowledge the radio transmission I am mentally kicking myself. NOTHING is routine. How many times and how often do I tell this to my crews? Complacency & routine calls kill firefighters; you always plan for worst case. Today is already worst case.

The Interstate never does seem to take a holiday and Father's Day is no exception.

It is a busy morning. Engine 1 is 10 minutes away and the ambulance is just coming back from Longmont. We are going to be the first engine on scene.

It is a clear June morning and a brief rain storm has just come through, making the smell of the asphalt more distinct. As the engine pulls up on to the top of the overpass I see a white SUV in the field next to the Interstate and a state patrolman walking towards something I cannot quite make out.

We arrive a minute later. 

Engine 3 Arrival, Single Vehicle Rollover 245 Command
I am going over the list of what I need to do quickly in my head. The incoming ambulance and engine crews will be listening to the radio for an update. They will be able to tell how bad it is by the tone and inflection of my voice. Calm, measured tones can carry the unmistakable sound of how bad thing are at the scene.

The list in my head continues. There is a patient with significant trauma and I will need to launch the helicopter to get the driver to a level 1 trauma center within 6 minutes. Almost immediately after call for Air Life, the dispatcher will come up on the radio and ask me who the ground contact will be. I have no one at the moment and it will have to be me. The incoming engines will be listening to the radio traffic and what I don’t say is as important as what I do say. They will listen to the tone of my voice and try to interpret what I am dealing with. They know we are only 2 firefighters strong and if we have anything at all, we will be painfully short handed. I am conscious of this as I give updates on the radio to dispatch.

We pull up on the shoulder next to the field. From here the white SUV looks heavily damaged.

"I will get medical and O2 bag" I tell Chris
"Get backboard and collar bag"
There is a wide path of debris leading up to the crumpled white SUV. Clothes, CD’s, papers and books. The closer we get the worse the SUV looks. It looks bad, but this may be one of those times when the laws of physics are ignored. What you see and what it turns out to be are not always the same.

"Keep an eye out for another patient" I remind Chris and he nods.
The walk towards the SUV seems too long and too quiet. The only sound is the noise we are making is the sound of our bunker pants against the tall wet grass. The State Patrolman is about 30 feet from the SUV and is looking down, he must have found the driver.

We get to the SUV and the damage is extensive. I stick my head in the window and look around. Nothing, there is nothing in the SUV. We turn our attention to the State Patrolman who is still looking down at what must be the driver. We start walking towards him again and I am struck by the fact that he is not squatting down or bending over. He looks down for a long moment then looks over at us approaching him, he isn’t animated. He does not have a sense of urgency.

WAVE…I want him to motion me over to him, ask me to hurry. I want him to lean down and not raise his head back up. I want him to be impatient that I am walking in a deliberate way towards him.

I am getting nothing from him at all.  He looks down again and does not look up until we reach him and at the young boy he is standing over. The injuries are massive and traumatic; there is no way to perform basic life support functions on him. I understand why the patrolman did not say anything. As you look at him it is clear that he is dead. I reach down and feel for a pulse on his neck and due the extent of the injuries, even this is hard to do.

I get back on the radio.

Engine 3, Continue Ambulance, Cancel Engine 1, Possible Code Black.
Code Black is radio call sign for a death in the field. The paramedic’s arrive, park behind the engine and walk over to where we are standing. After a brief glance, they are calling into the emergency room doctor to do a field pronouncement.

"I can help you deliver that chair tomorrow" I tell Chris. This is a delivery for the business runs.
"Cool, thanks, I will buy you lunch for that"

And for a minute, we are not on the Interstate on Fathers Day. The inane, helping taking the edge of the scene that is unfolding in front of us.

He has huge feet, with unlaced high top tennis shoes. One his shoes is halfway off his foot and the sock is pulled way down. I have to resist the urge to reach down and pull his sock up. My guess is he is not much older than 16.

We quietly help pick up the gear the paramedics and our own gear. One of us will stay with him per our protocol. Staying with him is more than protocol, for the brief time we are with him, he is our brother, our son and we treat him that way.

The corner arrives and we are working with her to get him to her white van that is parked on the Interstate. He is wearing only one huge tennis shoe and for inexplicable reason I cannot bring myself to put his tennis shoe completely on his foot. I feel compelled to pull up both of his socks before he is transported.

The state patrolman has pulled the boys wallet. I notice for the first time there are temporary tags on the SUV. I walk away before I can hear how old he really is or what his name is. This is my best defense against carrying him with me for an indeterminate amount of time. I do not want to take him home with me on this day most of all. Father’s day every year has been about what I gained when both my children were born. I do not want to pause to contemplate that I man, a father like me will hear the most horrifying news of his life in an hour or two.

It is a quiet ride back to the station. I talk to Chris about the specifics of the chair delivery, careful to stay away from mentioning that it is Fathers Day today. The inane coming to the rescue for huge elephant in the cab of the engine on the ride back to the station. 

When I get back home the dogs are pacing in front of the sliding glass door. There is a pair of huge tennis shoes (Jake wears a size 13) and I pick them both up put them aside. I let the dogs out and back in and climb back into bed.

In another 15 minutes, I hear the kids banging around in the kitchen, I am glad the transition back to home is quick and busy. I have learned that when I am witness to those intimate, compelling events, regular time does not stop. Sinks back up, kids need rides, the normal day to day business of navigating the week does not stop.

It will always be a delicate balance balancing firefighter time with regular time.

Today, I am glad that the two laughing faces looking across the table from me have tipped the scale heavily on the side of regular time. Father's day is in full swing here. After a breakfast of eggs and pancakes in a way that only kids can do them, we had banana splits for lunch.

The kid with the big feet did two things. I hug my kids a little harder and longer on Fathers Day now and I remember how deeply I love them every time I smell the summer rain on hot asphalt.