The telephone game played out in real life

Well, that month just flew by.

Apparently whatever secret muse it is that controls the writing portion of my brain left town, cause I really haven't had much to consider sharing here.  Meh, it happens, you know?

In the mean time, not much has gone on for the last month.  A family birthday (s/o to the Quiet Child), some softball games for the Reigning Princess, a new crop of new guys at work (there's promise for future material there) and, tomorrow, another birthday, this one for the Great Vincenzo and there's DEFINITE potential for material there.

Just sayin...

So, if you come by here regularly you may recall my retelling of the last in-ambulance birth I was a part of (brief editorial note: When did people become incapable of telling the difference between "a part" and "apart"?  They are distinctly different, people! C'mon, pick up your social media game would ya?) and I referenced how, often times the information gets lost between what happened, the caller, dispatch and us.  And again, I'm not throwing stones at anyone in that chain, stuff happens, adrenaline gets pumping or there's some minute miscommunication that throws the whole thing off kilter.

Sometimes, however, it's easy to identify the weak link in the telecommunication flowchart that is inherent in one of our emergency responses.

Like, for instance, yesterday.

In the typical swirl of activity that takes place between lunch and dinner at the firehouse, we had a brief calm yesterday afternoon.  Our Lieutenant was going over some things with our current new guy, the guys on Fightin' Medic 3 had just gotten back from another life-or-death emergency and I was left to my own devices.

The tones went off and we were dispatched to a "partial roof collapse of a building with a person trapped under debris."  The dispatch included our Station, Truck 2, the Battalion Chief and the Safety Officer, a typical response for this type of incident.  Now, this is not a common call for us to respond to.  But as we rolled into action (conjures up a very heroic image, no?) all the thoughts were going through our heads of what we might possibly encounter.  I knew the building we were being sent to, it once housed a motorcycle dealership, and has been vacant for quite some time.  I hadn't driven past it for a while, but the thought that some construction or renovation for potential new tenants was going on made sense to me, so in that respect nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  When we were around two blocks away our Safety guy requested PD to block off the street in front of the address.  This also made sense to me since it could quickly escalate into a big deal, a large scale incident and quite frankly, it wouldn't have surprised me if someone had activated a Technical Rescue response.  I anticipated also some type of update from our PD once they got on scene since they always beat us to larger incidents.  They are, after all, already out on the street and they get the information almost simultaneously to us.  But I didn't hear anything from the coppers.  We were directed however to enter through the overhead doors and as we pulled onto the scene I saw an open overhead door on the west side of the building and drove to it.  I also saw marker ribbon around the perimeter of the roof, indicating some type of work on the roof of the building and squaring, in my brain at least, the increased potential for collapse.  We looked in from the cab of the engine and saw nothing to suggest a collapse had occurred.  This immediately kicked in the "what did we miss?" response in our collective brains and we agreed to check the next building down since that business was mentioned in the dispatch.  I backed away from the building and as I pulled past it the three of us looked through the front windows trying to see some indication of collapse.  We saw none and I drove around the corner to check the next building.

The occupants there were looking back at us, probably wondering what the commotion was all about.

I drove back to our original position by the overhead door and we went in to investigate.  The Lt. and our new guy went straight in and I peeled off to the right.  I noticed several interior walls were still in place, so I thought the collapse must have happened somewhere that was shielded from our view by those walls.

As I made my way toward the front of the building I heard a voice calling out feebly "I'm over here" and started heading in the direction of the voice.  I was looking for some sign of collapse the whole time, since I would've done no good for anyone if I got trapped too.  As I walked to the front there was a row of small offices on my right, formerly sales offices I think.  And, as I got to the last one I heard the voice say "they're here now, ok, thanks" and as I looked in to the last office I saw our patient lying on the floor with one leg bent underneath him.

And four acoustic ceiling tiles on top of him.

Yes, that's right.

You know them.  Two feet by two feet square and about a half inch thick.  Each one weighs roughly twelve ounces.  You may have them in your home or place of business.

Acoustic.  Ceiling.  Tiles.

And, as I looked up to the ceiling I saw the underside of a completely intact roof about three feet above the dropped ceiling he had been trying to remove when the ceiling tiles let loose and landed on him.

All four of them.

I pulled the tiles off him and asked where he hurt.  His response?

"I've got dust in my eyes."

Now, I have to admit right here that, in the past, I haven't always been as sensitive to what others might find offensive and have used terms that I'm not particularly proud of when describing certain individuals.  But, I think I've made great strides in this attempt at self-improvement.  I am, however, still exercising great restraint when it comes to what I desperately want to say in describing my feelings toward this individual.  Let's just say that, in my personal opinion, this was perhaps the single-most inappropriate use of emergency resources in quite some time.  Possibly in my entire career.

And there have been some doozies.

So, as it turns out, our "patient" was using a piece of the aluminum framing or track that the tiles rest in to pull the ceiling tiles down.  And this action caused them to, of course, fall down.  And gravity being what it is, they fell straight down on top of our plucky little survivor.

You've got to watch out for gravity, it'll get you every time.

There you have it, a perfect example of the single weak-link in the communication chain that leads up to a 9-1-1 dispatch.  And the difference between what is perception and what is reality.  Kinda helps illustrate why we try to take our dispatches with a grain of salt.  And why we sometimes don't, even when we should, lol.

Oh, I almost forgot my favorite part.  As the guys on the ambulance started assessing his "injuries" I heard him mention to them that he was (or *shudder* is) a firefighter.

Sigh.

Peace

August is the cruelest month.

With apologies to T.S. Eliot, I really don't know what to make of August.

The current month, over the course of my life (specifically the last 21 years) has brought towering joy and crippling pain.  Probably everything in between too, but me being what (who?) I am, these are the markers I follow.

August of 1995 was not easy.  Dad passed away on the 31st.  His last several months had not been easy for him.  He had COPD, a heart attack about ten years earlier had weakened him too.  That in itself wasn't easy for me to accept, in retrospect.  Here was a man that, although I stood about six inches taller than and outweighed by close to thirty pounds, I never doubted could kick my ass if he chose to.  Not that he ever exhibited that temperament though.  Dad was (still is) the most laid-back, even-tempered person I've ever known.  And that's made all the more remarkable by being married to Mom for 52 years, lol.  To say nothing of my siblings and I.

Well, them at least.

I never gave them any trouble...

Ahem.

So to watch Dad in this condition, to see him, in his last weeks, confined to a hospital bed after a devastating stroke, was something so foreign to me, well all of us really, but since I'm the one writing this, you know.  One of my most lasting impressions, one that comes fresh to my mind every time I let my (now) greying beard go for three or four days between shaves, is of Dad, unable to do that for himself.  He asked me if I could shave him.  Of course I did, gladly.

I also remember Dad's cardiologist, after the stroke had left him unable to speak clearly, which frustrated him to no end, commenting on how Dad was an angry old man.  Never in my life did I want to punch someone as much as I did this doctor.  I refuse to capitalize those words btw.  I don't know where he's practicing now.  He was pretty young so I'm sure he's still in practice.  Hopefully he's learned some bedside manners.

My most lasting impression of that time though, is that Dad wouldn't let Mom call for the ambulance if I was at work.  He'd tell her "Wait.  Joe will be home tomorrow.  You can call then."  That happened four or five times his last year.  The first couple times I was able to function as his paramedic as well as his son.  After that, I couldn't do both.  I had to be his son and let the crew perform what needed to be done for him.  That was a difficult reality to come to grips with.

Let's move ahead now to August of 2000.  And the birth of the Heir to the Throne.  What an amazing moment.  My first grandchild.  He was perfect in every way.

Now?

Wellllllllll...

The truth of the matter is he really is a pretty great kid and I count him among my blessings every single day of my life.  He's growing into a fine young man and I couldn't possibly be more proud of him than I am.    I remember how thrilled Diane was to go in to the delivery room with the Oldest One.  And how she wasn't sure what to make of this whole "Grandma" thing she was experiencing.  She did kind of dig it though when people would tell her she looked too young to be a Grandma.  She also doted on the HttT every chance she could get, right up to the end.

Which, btw, came in August of 2006.

Diane picked him up one morning, the week before he was supposed to start Kindergarten.  We were going to keep him for a few days and just goof off.  Whatever he wanted to do, that was our plan.  Life, of course, got in the way as it usually does.

That afternoon we were playing in the pool we had in the back yard.  Diane got out, said she had some stuff to do in the house, so I got the HttT out of the pool and dried him off.  We went in to the house and Diane told me she'd experienced some discomfort in her chest while she was in the pool and again climbing the stairs.  She said she felt fine now but had never felt anything like that before.  We talked about the dozen different things it might be but agreed the smart thing to do was to get it checked out.  We called the Boy Child and asked him to come over and hang out with the HttT while we went to the ED.  I vaguely remember calling him a few hours later and telling him they were keeping her overnight and calling the Oldest One and making up a story about why we had to bail on our plans.  At that point Diane didn't want anyone to know what had happened.  At her request I didn't even call the Quiet Child to tell her any of this yet.

When I say the week spiraled downhill from there it doesn't begin to describe the next six days.  Let me just say that it ended with me, sitting cross-legged on the floor; in the bedroom at the house of one of my nieces; trying to explain to my five year-old grandson why the Nana that adored him, that he worshipped, was never coming home.  The memory often brings tears to my eyes, even today, ten years later.  It is the single most difficult thing I've ever had to do.

Fortunately, in time, August made a move toward redemption.  Last year my favorite gemstone joined the family.  The old saying goes- "Diamonds are a girls best friend" right?  Well, I may not be her bestie but my fifth grandchild and second granddaughter made her appearance to rave reviews.  She, like the Reigning Princess before her, had me wrapped around her little finger from the start.  Her personality is showing more and more each day and she cracks me up regularly.  The Boy Child and my favorite daughter-in-law (still working on an actual nome de plume for her) have become my go to Sophie sitters when I need to go out of town for a few days.  Both of the littles are great with Sophie, but my little Diamond squeals with glee every time she sees Sophie, even if only moments have passed since the last time she saw her.  Literally.  Almost "peekabooish" and it's hilarious.

She's also very watchful of Sophie's dietary intake as this photo clearly shows.

You can see how pleased she is that Sophie is eating.

As plans are finalized for celebrating the little Diamonds first birthday I fully realize that August, fickle beast that it is, is currently a happy place.  Time has taught me that it may only be temporary.  So, I think I have really only one last thing to say, and, while it's hardly an original thought, it's certainly one we should all heed.  Enjoy your commas.  No, that's not it, although I do enjoy them. 

Rather, it's enjoy the life you live.  We all have little to no control over it, so stress as little as possible and embrace the warm fuzzy moments when they present themselves.

Peace

Reigning Princess

Yesterday was kind of a break in the action.  We had a couple events on behalf of one the newest chapters, Central Illinois, in the afternoon/evening so the morning was free.  We got to sleep in!

I made it all the way to 6:18 

woohoo.  

On the plus side, I found a lovely little locally owned coffee shop in downtown Urbana and enjoyed coffee and free Wifi to craft yesterday's work of art.  I'm here again today too.  Cool old building with tin ceilings and 8" heart of pine wood floors.  Of course when it was built I'm sure they never envisioned aging hipsters and college students sipping latte's and listening to new age music, but hey, any port in the storm, right?

So as to yesterday.  The events weren't spectacular, but you can't hit a homer every time, you know?  And, one of the things we do on tour is to help promote chapters, so I think we definitely helped in that regard.  We also took part in the ceremony put together for C IL's first fire truck, soon to be a pink one, donated by the Rantoul FD and that was nice.

But here's the thing about yesterday.  Two of the families involved in the chapter had their kids with us for one or two of our days here in the CU area.  Four little girls, cute as buttons and as sweet as can be.  But there was something more about them that struck me personally and almost immediately.

One of the little girls bore a striking resemblance to the Blond Child.  And another looked so much like the Reigning Princess that, last night, at dinner, when I showed her Mom a recent picture of the RP, her first thought was to wonder where HER daughter had gotten that outfit.  The really funny thing though was that, although the younger daughter also looked a little like the RP, her personality was spot on.  So much so, that about 20 minutes after meeting me, the littlest one came sprinting across the sidewalk and launched herself at me, arms raised, looking for a hug.  

Exactly like the RP does.

The Reigning Princess stole my heart right from the first time I saw her and she knows it, lol.  This is not to imply any kind of favoritism with the grandkids either.  They all have their own truly unique characteristics and each of them charms me in their own way.  Maybe it's a "first granddaughter" kind of thing with the RP, I'm not sure, but that little girl has a special place in my heart and always will.  

So to see these little ones running around the last couple days brought many smiles to my face.  

Many memories too.

Some good, some sad, all cherished.

I'm debating if I want to put pictures up here of my new friends.  I didn't think about it last night while I was hanging out with their parents, so I didn't ask their permission.  But it's not like this mess gets a lot of traffic either.  The only people that would recognize any similarities are my kids and a handful of friends.  

Moving on...

Tomorrow's day includes getting on the road by 6:15 for the two plus hour drive to suburban Indy for day chock full of stuff around Leslie's home town.  

The person, not the truck.

Leslie Hulce was from Fishers, IN and the tour will be there Friday and Saturday.  I'm looking forward to seeing her sister Lisa again and meeting her Mom.  I've been in contact with them since we got Leslie and they've always been very sweet.  I'm so glad we got the opportunity to bring the tour back to town.

One of the events scheduled for us on Friday is a concert.  The headliner is...

Wait for it...

...

...

Eddie Money!!!

Sigh.

I guess Meat Loaf was busy...

Lastly and for the record, Mike is a quitter.  We're taking him to the train station today, his time on tour is done.  Mike's jump on board this particular crazy train was completely spontaneous and a lot of fun for all of us.  He's a really good kid and he did great on tour.  He produced some lovely works of art yesterday, but more than that for the last week he's produced many fond memories and good vibes for a bunch of people that had no clue how loved they were by people they had never met before and may well never see again.  Whether he realizes it or not, they gave back to him as much as he gave out.  He's a good kid and I wish him much success in whatever he chooses to do...

Of course, I'll never tell him that.  Instead, I'll continue to call him a quitter.

It's what we do.

Peace.