Once a Hero

    I don't think I can stand! he exclaimed, when the MRI technician asked him to step down from the patient tray.  The feeling in his left leg had been replaced with excruciating pain and a vague sense of pressure.  The tech left the room to summon the nurse on duty and retrieve a wheelchair.  He sat there in the subdued lighting of the large, sterile, cold MRI room thinking of the life that had brought him to this new challenge.

    Once upon a time he had been a high school athlete a little over weight, but none the less in prime shape.  Life in the small town that he grew up in consisted of school, church, the gym, and home.  Satisfying memories of letting it all out on Friday night football fields were never filled with true physical pain or the anguish of failure, even on nights when his team had lost.  He now knew the crushing helpless feeling of severe chronic pain and the bitter slap of reality that his life would no longer be the same.  He had been as strong as a young bull and on more than one occasion had been described as built like a "brick shit house".  Back then he could bench 450 lbs and press over 900 pounds on the leg sled, but the thing that had made him unique was his speed and agility.  Although as a young man he weighed in at 275 lbs standing at a mere 6'0", he could run the 40 in under 6 seconds!  I know that’s not that impressive but for a man his size it was and he could turn on a dime. 

    His early life certainly was filled with strength, ability, and a blessed lack of real pain.  For the last 10 years however chronic pain had begun to trickle into his active life, now pushing 40 he was facing some tough decisions that did not seem fair at the moment. 
             
    The tech returned to the room with a wheelchair and an very agitated looking nurse in tow.  The very site of the wheelchair chilled him to the bone, in his career he had seen many patients in those cold lifeless contraptions.  He had even had to use one for 6 weeks when he broke his leg.  It was the lamest story of all, with all the dangerous heroic situations that he had been in and came out without even a scratch, this was laughable.

      It was just after another snow storm, the kind that close everything down except for those civil servant jobs, that people take for granted.  The day started like any other, him and his partner were checking their equipment for the start of the shift.  The Rocky boots that most of the medics wear have a very aggressive lug on the sole and tend to hold some residual snow, even after stomping the hell out of the rug in the ready room. 

    The ambulance check sheet was completed and their rig was ready for another shift.  He started to exit the back of the ambulance and one of his size 13 boots caught up on the guerny that is securely latched to the floor.  His right leg was already at the end of the guerny firmly planted, or so he thought, on a stainless steel plate set in the ambulance floor.  The next few seconds were as if in super slow motion, his left leg stuck in the guerny mechanism and right foot planted made him do the splits across the guerny.  However the snow that was in his boot soles was just slippery enough to make the stainless steel plate like standing on ice.  His right leg broke loose and shot out of the ambulance and he pitched forward on his way to a very painful header into the unforgiving cement floor 4 feet below. 

    With years of rough housing with his brothers, wrestling, and football, he knew how to take a fall.  In mid air his large frame was already instinctly rotating to let his backside take the brunt of the kinetic energy that he had loosed.  There was only one problem, that right boot with its aggressive lugged sole had found a purchase on the rear bumper somehow as it exited the ambulance and was pulled down by gravity.  He was now rotating his considerable bulk around that planted leg, his brain had just enough time to think, oh! shit! this is going to hurt. 

    The pain is very distinctive its a very intense burning sensation, not unlike someone driving a red hot 16 penny nail into the center of your leg.  The sensation was made further unsettling by the snap of the bone as it reverberated through his body and to his ears from the inside.  One positive out of this, if you're an optimist, hitting his hip, shoulder and backside on the cement did not cause any sensation at all. 

    He looked up to see his partner first with his usual broad smile, which in these kind of circumstances is usually followed by a generous helping of laughter and a "walk much" comment.  Except the smile faded quickly because his partner could see in his eyes that things were not okay and a concerned look overcame his usual laid back surfer look.

    His partner was a transplant from Los Angeles and was one of the calmest, friendly, caring souls that he had ever met.  The surfer medic jumped down from the rig and helped him to his feet while asking if he was okay.  A wave of nausea roared over him and speech was impossible for a second, as he attempted to hold things together.

    Finally when he could speak he said "you need to go find the supervisor and tell him you need another partner and you are taking me to the ER".  Surprised by this response his partner asked him if he had tried putting any weight on that leg and encouraged him to try it.  Still woozy and rattled from the experience, he found himself obeying this command and the nausea rushed back, but even more disconcerting was the sudden tunnel vision and feeling of losing consciousness.  Once again he told his partner that he needed to go to the ER, however still in disbelief, the surfer medic asked him to go into the ready room and put his leg up and ice it first.  After that last taste of pain he no longer had any patience for his partners disbelief.  I am getting into the front of the ambulance!! he shouted and you need to go find the supervisor, NOW!!!  That snapped his partner out of the fog that he was in and got him moving. 

    It's funny how even though together they had performed confidently, coolly, and flawlessly in thousands of other people's emergencies, this had them totally rattled.  They had even been informed the day before this that they would be receiving an everyday hero award from the Red Cross, for their performance on a recent call.

    After an X-ray at the ER, where he accepted much good natured ribbing from the staff, it was determined that he had a spiral fracture of his tibia.  He was placed in a temporary cast, given some pain medication, and sent back to the station to wait for his father to come and get him and his vehicle.

    He was sent to an orthopedic surgeon the next day to determine whether or not this would require surgical intervention.  The Dr. placed him in a permanent cast and made it very clear that his fracture was stable at this time, however if he put any weight on that leg it would very likely need surgery to put the pieces back together.  Ironically the Dr. also told him that the very boots that he blamed for the situation, were the reason that he did not have an open fracture.  An open fracture is when the bone breaks and the jagged ends break through the skin, causing indescribable pain and damage.  He had been a witness to many open fractures and did not want any part of that.  The surgeon explained that the spiral fracture was far enough up the bone that if he had not been wearing the 9" version of work boots to support his leg, he would certainly be going to surgery.

    He was given a set of crutches and told to avoid any pressure on that leg or he would likely regret it.  He attempted to use the crutches as much as possible, however someone offered a wheelchair for his use.  He would use it to go out when he knew that there would be a lot of walking needed.  The picture, at the EMS station where he works, shows him in that wheelchair when he accepted his award from the Red Cross. 

    It is still amazing to him how he got to this career, this calling, this way of life, because that is what EMS is, its a way of life, it takes over every aspect of your life and your personality.  When he had finished high school his aspirations were of the law enforcement nature, he wanted to be a State Trooper.  However after doing some ride alongs and getting acquainted with the inner workings of that career, he decided that it was not for him. 

    He jumped from menial job to menial job and at one time had three jobs at once.  Then one of his high school buddies told him about how being a volunteer firefighter was the most rewarding thing that he had ever known.  His maternal grandfather, Captain Patrick Boice, was a member of the city fire department and was killed in the line of duty in 1968.  He had never met his grandfather, however he always felt proud to tell anyone he knew of his hero grandfather.  He applied to be a probationary fireman on a volunteer township fire department.  That was the start of the journey that had brought him to this place in life. 

    Firefighting is a pure rush, if you have the ability to and want to do something that not only can make a difference in your community, but is extremely satisfying, then firefighting is for you.  He went through all the training that was required to become a certified firefighter in his state and began his stint as a volunteer.  One aspect of training for the department was the Medical First Responder course.  He found that this course was not only interesting and stimulating, but was something that he excelled in.  He had a natural aptitude for the inner workings and malfunctions of the human body.  He quickly became a regular on medical calls to assist the local EMS system and its paramedics.  There was all the action that he could ever want and more.  It was true that not every call was straight out of Hollywood, but the mundane could become adrenaline filled chaos in mere seconds.  When given the chance to increase his training and knowledge he would be the first to sign up and when it was all said and done he was the proud owner of every emergency medical license that the state offered.

    After he completed his Basic Emergency Medical Technician class, he was offered the opportunity to join the very same career fire department that his grandfather had given his life for.  The new battalion chief Bill Fincher was a friend of his mother’s family and had been a probationary fireman when his grandfather was killed.  He once told him of that heroic day, when two of the city's firefighters had drown while attempting to save four teenagers whose boat had capsized near a low head dam.  The fireman’s boat was capsized throwing them into the raging river that was overflowing its banks from a quick spring thaw.  Patrick he said had struck his head and was knocked unconscious and drowned, the other firefighter was caught in a hydraulic below the dam and was pulled under.  Both men had been very strong swimmers and avid outdoorsmen; however the conditions would have overwhelmed anyone caught in that situation.  Bill told him that several firefighters were retiring and with his background and experience he would be a shoe in for the position.

    But fate had a different idea for him and altered his course once more.  While in Basic class he developed chest pain and shortness of breath, thinking that he was young and impervious to anything, he ignored the symptoms for several months before he could no longer dismiss them.  He was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder called sarcoidosis, which primarily effects the lungs.  The late great Reggie White of the Green Bay Packers and funny man Bernie Mac had that very same disorder and passed away at early ages, they say in part because of this strange disorder.  This affected his firefighting aspirations because putting on an airpack and entering burning buildings was now out of the question.  He initially was devastated, his dream career or so he thought was now out of reach. 

  Things changed when he was given the opportunity to work as a dispatcher for the local EMS system.  Once hired, within his first week on the job, the challenges, camaraderie, and unpredictability of the job had him hooked.  He had never in his life felt so right, so needed, so alive! 

    The nurse was rapidly pushing him towards the emergency room through the maze of hallways that most hospitals seem to be made up of.  The realization that his situation was now beyond his control sunk in and his heart seemed to feel as if it held the weight of the world. 

    The ER was particularly busy that day and he watched the ballet that is emergency medicine, it was quite organized.  But to the untrained or uninitiated it must look like pure chaos.  A cold reality had settled over him, making the room seem bigger and even more frigid, he burrowed under the blanket.  I am completely screwed!  What will I do now? I am a paramedic, that’s what I do and who I am.  His thoughts were coming so fast and cruel that the pain in his leg was all but forgotten.

    Just then his long time partner and best friend the surfer medic showed up in the ER with a patient on his cot.  Their eyes meet and the gravity passed between them without a word.  There and then he knew that life was about to change very dramatically for him.  He had now ruptured 6 discs in his back and there was no amount of physical therapy or surgery that could change his situation.   

  This job was everything to him at this point, he was twice divorced and every time his home life got bad, he had immersed  himself in his job to survive.  Being a paramedic was who he was; it was how everyone saw him, people often did not even recognize him without that uniform on, he would be nothing.

    Just then as if handed down from GOD himself, his son burst into the room with his usual exuberance.  His son was a great kid, perfect to him in every way, despite the fact that he suffered from Asperger's Autism.  Life was one challenge after another for his son and yet he continued to be the brightest spot in a otherwise dreary life.  His son jumped onto the ER cot with him, giving him a big hug and looking him in the eye and saying "I love you daddy".  It was in that perfect moment, through eyes clouded with tears of pure anguish, joy, and love that he knew that being a paramedic was not who he was and what he was about.  He was the father of this perfect child and he knew right then that he would be okay. 

    After the hours of waiting in the ER for them to tell him what he already knew, after all his well intending co-workers and friends came by to assure him that he would be back to work before he knew it, he went home with his son. 

    After his son went to bed and the house quieted for the night, he went into his room.  There in the closet were the row of uniforms; neatly waiting for him to put them on and be who he thought he was for too many years.  He quietly took each one off of its hanger and placed it in a garbage bag, thinking of all that he had seen and done while wearing these very pieces of clothing.  His thoughts also went to all the things he had to miss to be that person, so much energy spent to help strangers.  He thought of all the time he had miss with his son and wondered if it had all been worth the things he had given up.  As he cinched the top of the bag shut he quietly said to himself, "I will never put on these uniforms again, but I will still be the same person, with all my positive qualities and faults, I am now a full time father".  In that very moment the weight of the world fell from his broad shoulders and he felt peace spread over him.  He knew then that life beyond who he had made himself to be would be so very sweat and fulfilling, because the love of his child had saved him.