Chapter 13 - Big Feet

It is just barely 4 AM and I cannot sleep another minute.  I love the quiet of Station 3 in the morning.  In a couple of hours (barring a call) everyone will start waking up and the station will come back to life.  I am going to go down to the kitchen and start one of the pots of coffee and finishing enjoying the quiet of the morning.

I can't wait for the shift to end today.  Today is Father's Day and it is my favorite holiday of the year.  When I get home, the entire day is going to be about me.  

I have lived an amazing life.  I graduated from high school early and left to pursue a career as a Professional Rodeo Cowboy.  I traveled the western states with a group of dear friends who were chasing the same goals as I was.  As time passes, it is a lot easier to remember the freedom and fun of living a life outside a normal 9-5 job.  

After a couple of years, the reality of a career as a Professional Rodeo Cowboy started to come to light for me.  I decided it was past time to join the ranks of the fully employed and insured.  I still remember the look of joy on my mom's face when I told her I was returning to the fold.  Announcing to any mother that you are going to try and be a Professional Rodeo Cowboy is the same thing as announcing you are running away to join the circus to be a full-time clown.  Mom was incredibly happy that I was retiring from my Circus career.

I am the second oldest out of 5 siblings.  My mom was already at grandma 8 times over and I was the only holdout that had not provided her with a grandchild.  Mom, would chide me from time to time and remind me that I was the only sibling who had not given her a grandchild.

At the tender age of 29, I became a father for the first time.  I still remember with a clarity that is nothing short of amazing, holding Megan Marie for the first time.  When those brown eyes looked at me, they looked all the way through my soul.  Being a dad, felt like (then and today) the greatest accomplishment of my life.  I only met my biological father twice and the meeting did not produce anything much except for satisfying the curiosity of who he was.  My stepfather and I had a very contentious relationship that never did get resolved.  I promised myself that when the time came, I would work every day to build a strong relationship with my kid(s) and be the father that I wanted to have growing up.

When at the age of 31, I looked down into the brown eyes of Jacob Michael, there was a second set of eyes that looked all the way through my soul.  I was over the moon, being a dad for the second time was as powerful as the first time.  Every time I walked in the room and those faces broke out in genuine smiles, I became even more focused on being that dad that I had always wanted.

Neither Megan or Jake are early risers, shift ends at 7 AM and I am 30 minutes from home.  If I make it back home by 7:30, I will have time to crawl into bed, so both kids can come busting the the room to wake me up for Fathers day.

I have gotten a glimpse at almost every gift that I will be given today, and they are gifts that only your children would give.  I do not want or expect gifts that are practical or things I want or need.  I want to get Lego kits that the kids will open and build while I have another cup of coffee and tell them how much I wanted those Lego kits.  I love opening these gifts with a flourish in front of my kids.

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 breakfast will consist of toast and Honey Nut Cherrios on a TV tray.  Most of the delivered breakfast will end up on the comforter and both kids will watch while I take big bites of the homemade breakfast they have made for me.

I am sitting at the kitchen table, sipping my first cup of coffee when I see the green overhead light come on and hear the familiar voice of the dispatcher. 

Beep, Beep Beep.

Engine 3 respond to rollover accident I25 & Mile Marker 245

No one will be up for another 3 hours, so there is still time to get home in time for Fathers Day to start.

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 and reheat this really bad coffee.  I should still be able to slip between the sheets before the house is fully awake.

Chris is walking down the stairs with a pack set in hand.  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 know he is going to be driving the engine. 

"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 in route status 3, 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 off 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 rainstorm 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 calling 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 3 firefighters strong and if we have anything at all, we will be painfully shorthanded. 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." I tell Christopher

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.

There are badly wrapped gifts lying next to the SUV.

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 paramedics 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." Chris says.

And for a minute, we are not on the Interstate on Father's Day.  The inane, helping to take the edge of the scene that is unfolding in front of us.

He has huge feet, with unlaced high topped 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 the gear we brought over from Engine 3.  The paramedic completes the call with the Emergency Room and a field pronouncement with a time of death is announced.

The coroner has been dispatched and per our protocol we will stay with him until the coroner arrives.  We will cover him and do what we can to keep him intact as much as possible.  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 does a quick thorough investigation and asks for our help to get him loaded on the pram and take him back 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 do end up pulling both of his socks up before he is put in the bag and transported.  Pulling up his socks is a complete dad move and no one on the crew or the coroner says a thing to me about doing that.

The state patrolman had pulled the boys wallet and has it opened and is looking through it.  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 there is another dad, like me who 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 Father's 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 we get back to the station it is about 6:30 AM and the oncoming crew is already there.

I am glad for the noise and the work to check the engine to make sure everyhing is there and in place for the new shift.  I don't want to spend time in the quiet contemplating the morning on the Interstate.

It is 7:20 AM when I get back home.  There is a pair of huge tennis shoes (Jake wears a size 13) and I pick them both up put them aside.     

There is a very specific protocol for the house to take up.  The dogs stir first, and head to the kitchen to position themselves in front of the sliding glass door. They will prance around until someone wakes up to let them out.  I peek in the bedroom and see both dogs asleep at the foot of the bed.  I give them a gentle nudge and they wake up, shake their heads and head to the sliding glass door.  I will turn on the coffee pot at home while the dogs are outside.

Like clockwork, the dogs come back in and before they start to wake the house up, I crawl into bed and put my head on the pillow watching the door.  About 30 minutes later, the house is awake.  I hear the kids banging around in the kitchen, and I can't help but smile.  I am ready for Fathers Day to start.

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, on our fire calls, regular time does not stop. Sinks back up, kids need rides, the normal day to day business of navigating the week does not stop.  Today, I am very appreciative that regular time has not paused or stopped.

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

The bedroom doors burst open and I hear "Happy Fathers Day Dad!"

I am so happy to see those two laughing facings spilling Cheerios and Toast on my comforter.  Fathers Day is in full swing now.  Lunch will be banana splits and dinner will include too much chocolate and more ice cream.    

The kid with the big feet did a couple of things for me that I still have today.  I hug my kids a little harder and longer on Father's Day.  I appreciate the hell out of a badly wrapped gift on any holiday.  And last but most important, I remember how deeply I love Megan and Jake every time I smell summer rain on hot asphalt.