It
was a beautiful day to ride my motorcycle. Riding in the early
fall is the best. The bugs are gone, and the ambient air temperature is
somewhere between crisp and warm.
I have found that on a back of a
motorcycle any turmoil in my head or heart evaporates. My belief is
that this happens somewhere between 60 - 80 miles per hour. I ride with
Chris, Gary, and
Christopher on group rides but on any given day I opt to get out on my
own for an
unscripted trip. This might include stops at every wide spot in the
road or stops only for fuel and a TruckStop hotdog.
Today
I am heading north, I will need to get gas (and maybe a TruckStop hotdog) to fuel 3 hours of nonstop riding. I love the feel of the
wind, I am without a helmet today and enjoying the freedom of wearing
nothing more than my leather jacket.
I pulled off on the
Highway 52 exit and give a very cautious look for oncoming traffic. I
am starting to get back up to speed and never did see the van that
pulled up next to me and hit my motorcycle. The vans passenger door
hits the handlebar, and the front of my motorcycle starts to shake
uncontrollably.
Worried that I will go over the front of the bike headfirst I make a quick decision to lay the bike down. Purposely laying a
bike down is terrifying in way that is hard to explain. When I do that, I
will no longer be in any kind of control for an event where I can be
hurt badly or killed.
Time does not slow down, there is a moment of a
kind of total panic that I never have experienced before or since. I
have in my fire service career been in tough, difficult situations where
the potential to get hurt or seriously injured was there.
My faith in
the crew was complete. What passes for bravery in the face of tough
circumstances is nothing more than belief in your training and your
crew. Here on this fall day, it is just me and I am terrified, that I
have run out of luck.
I do not think in real life
anyone wants to die doing what they loved. I do not want to die in the
line of duty, on a motorcycle, in the arms of a woman or doing any of
the other things I genuinely love.
I have been to a hero's funeral and
know that I don't want a hero's funeral. My plan is (and has always
been) to die in my early 90's with a full diaper in my sleep after I
have seeing and doing as much as I possibly could.
I have attended a
hero's funeral and know the best case is a just the opposite. A small
funeral with a group of old people and middle-aged couples with children
that only vaguely remember you were a firefighter.
Everything
has a shelf life. As much as I love being a firefighter, the day will
come when I have to stop and retire. I hope to leave at the top of my
game. Most of us will leave in the middle of our game and this is
because a love like this is hard to leave. I will try to be the guy who
did not stay 1 or 2 years too long. As I get older my heart seems to
grow stronger, but my body is starting to act my chronological age.
When
the bike went down, I was completely terrified. My first and most
immediate thought was that this was going to hurt a lot (it did). I hit
hard and could not catch my breath; it was a hard hit that my mind was
not at all prepared for. My foot got stuck under the bike for a moment
and I had a sinking feeling that I was going to end up under a car or
truck in this two-way traffic.
When
I am laying in the road and the traffic has stopped, it is quiet for a
minute. I feel like I have to sit or stand up because I cannot breathe laying down. It feels like I have broken a rib or two. I am trying to
pull the stocking cap off my head, worried that I have a head injury
that has not surfaced. My wrist feels broken, and I am worried about
what I will see that
I don't feel yet. A young woman with a cell phone in her hand comes
running up and looks down at me.
"Are you hurt?" she said with genuine concern in her voice.
"I didn't see you." she said and I can see her hands shaking
I had a flash of anger that bordered on rage.
"FUUUUCK" I yell in a deeper and louder voice than I knew I had.
I
did manage to stand up and take a couple of steps towards her van that
is parked about 10 feet behind me. I grabbed the hood of the van to
steady myself and raised my good hand to hit the hood.
There in two
seats are two wide eyed kids staring at me. My anger just evaporated; I
walked over to the side of the road still worried about what I will
find when I take a longer look at myself. There are waves of pain, and
it is hard to focus on what is next, I am fighting to stay calm.
I
can hear fire engines in the distance, and it occurs to me that the guys
who will come to check on me will be friends of mine. I start to think
about how I will look to them and that is what lets me start to focus
again. The sirens are starting to remind me of the sensibilities I have
as a firefighter. I am calmer but not yet focused.
I have never really been on this side
of the fence before - I am going to be a patient.
A worried Hispanic man is standing in front of me and trying to put on a pair of rubber gloves.
"Sit Down" he says with a little too much authority. His hands are really shaking.
As
a public service announcement here, I want to thank the people who stop
to render aid. Take time to get through basic first aid courses and do
what you can to provide the assistance you have been trained to provide
until the professionals arrive.
Having
said that, it is here that I am going to omit in detail the things I
said to my Good Samaritan. The Hispanic gloved guy who stayed close to
me and watched over me after I was so terrible to him.
Ah
Hispanic gloved guy, thank
you from the bottom of my heart. I was not really going to pull off
your arms and beat you to death with them. I am not a boy scout, but I
usually do not swear like that. To this day I have not ever strung
together a string of profanity like I was able to do that day. Thank
you for not leaving me, you did the right thing that day.
The
Engine from the neighboring Fired Department arrives and I feel like
the 5-year-old who fell off his bike and was rescued in the street by
his family. I recognize the Lieutenant and his crew; they are looking
as wide eyed as me.
"We will take good care of you Cap" Jack says.
"Jack
I am good, a couple of ribs maybe an wrist. I don't want to take your
bus out of the district for a non-emergent transport" I tell him.
"Let
the medic's check me, but I am alert and oriented x4, no obvious
trauma, no difficulty breathing. Call Chris for me and if your medic's
clear me I will ride into hospital with him."
Adrenaline
is mothers' milk for idiots and I am an idiot. Jack takes a long look
at me and says to the medics to give me a very thorough check.
The medic's is a new guy, and we recognize each other but I cannot seem to remember his name.
"Hey Cap, we are gonna sit in the back of the bus (ambulance) and take a look at you."
"OK" I say and I am frustrated, that they are not listening to me - I am OK.
"What
is the day? About what time of day is it? What day of the week is it
and what month are we in?" he asks me a series of four quick questions.
I know it is Saturday, it's a little after 8AM, and it is September
8th. I know he is asking me these questions to determine if I am alert
and oriented to person, time, and place. I am not sure why the
questions I have asked people a million times sound so stupid right
now. I can feel myself getting more frustrated and notice that my hands
are shaking. I can't seem to take a deep enough breath and orient
myself enough to calm down.
"I am gonna take your jacket and shirt off, take a look and my partner is going to get a baseline set of vitals" the paramedic tells me.
I
want to take my own jacket and shirt off and I can't do that. I feel
helpless in a place where I am always so confident and self-assured.
"Don't
cut off my jacket, you can cut off my shirt but not my jacket" This
jacket, this faded leather jacket is my talisman, it is the reason I am
alive now, but I can't tell him that. I have turned into that guy that is
such a pain in the ass on a call like this. What kind of guy is more
concerned with his old jacket instead of his immediate health?
I am that guy today.
After
carefully taking off my jacket carefully and cutting off my shirt the
medic is looking at me.
"Any problem breathing, looks like you may have a problem with a rib or two" the medic tells me. he says.
"Sore
as hell, but no trouble breathing" I say. How many times have I told
the guy sitting on the bench that when things settle down and your
adrenaline stops kicking in that you may be in significantly more pain?
That does not apply to me today for a reason I am still not quite sure
of. He is doing a thorough head to toe assessment, and I am getting
frustrated every time his gloved hands touch me.
He
is calm, professional and is explaining everything he does and he is
doing in the quickest most thorough way possible. I want him to be
done, so I can start picking up the pieces of the day. My hands are
still shaking.
"Your vital signs are way on the high end, but you are breathing OK" he tells me.
"I am still not done being scared shitless" I tell him with a smile.
Chris opens the back door to the ambulance and says, "Where are you taking him?"
"He wants you to take him, and right now he can refuse transport, but he should go with us" the medic says.
"I refuse transport" I say and look over at Chris.
"He is not going to go with you, I will get him there" he says.
I am sitting in his truck, relieved and really starting to hurt. He is headed to the hospital about 20 minutes away.
"Dumb ass" he says exasperated.
"Call Laura and tell her there was a fender bender and you are taking me to get checked out." I tell him.
I
remember looking up from a hospital bed in the Emergency Room in a fog
of pain medications and seeing Laura and Jake looking down at me. They
both have a pained patient look on their faces and I feel like hell for
scaring them.
The
view from the other side of the fence has given me a different
perspective on the people we help when they really have a bad day. I
have a lot more patience with people who are frustrated at what is
happening around them. While my social graces are not legendary, I am
continually learning how to put people at more ease with small talk that
is genuine. I explain what I am doing more to everyone in and out of
the Firehouse. If you are being a jerk, I am a lot less likely to
assume that is your normal demeanor.
I
can still be an asshole; I am just a more introspective asshole now. I
continue to learn the lesson that everything is black and white when
you are seeing something from a distance. The closer you get the more
shades of grey there are and what is so cut and dry is far from cut and
dry.
The
guy at the boot shop told me how to cut a leather coat off in a way
that it could conceivably be put back together. I had a patch on put on
my jacket that says "crashing sucks". On the inside of my jacket, I
have them sew on my name plate from my bunker coat.
No comments:
Post a Comment