Chapter 24 - The Other Side of the Fence

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. 

And yes, I wear a helmet all the time now.