When duty calls
Have I mentioned my new husband is a firefighter?
In addition to being a high school world history and BCIS (business computer integration systems) teacher, my honey is the first assistant chief of our local VFD (volunteer fire department), and a certified ECA (emergency care attendant), which means he is also a First Responder. Not only does he fight fires, he's first on the scene at MVA's (motor vehicular accidents), downed power lines or trees across the road, and anytime someone calls an ambulance.
Now, this is a volunteer position. Not only does he NOT get paid for any of this, he's on call 24 hours a day, except when he's at his day job. It's his hobby. He loves it, and it's one of the things I love and admire about him the most.
This morning, his pager went off a little after 3 a.m. (I'm sure he knows the exact time, forgive me if I'm fuzzy.) It's not the first time this has happened, it won't be the last, it just comes with the territory. But, wow.
He jumped up, threw on the clothes he keeps ready on top of the chest of drawers for just such an occasion, kissed me and flew out the door. I was left alone with a house full of sleeping kids, the dog and the pager. The kids never woke up, the dog kept me warm, the pager kept me apprised of what was going on with the call.
It was a structure fire in a partially completed house, venting through the roof and threatening nearby woods. The second assistant chief arrived first and took command of the scene, Dalt went in route with a tanker truck from Station 2 (the one nearest our house), followed by crews on the engine and tanker from Station 1. Another nearby VFD was called to assist with their tanker. The county fire marshall was called in but couldn't make it, so a county arson investigator was contacted. Dalt had to refill his tanker twice, a stop was put on the fire before it got to the woods, and by the time our alarm went of at 6:15, everybody was going back in service (which means things are wrapped up and ready for another call if needed.)
I slept for about two-and-a-half minutes.
The worst thing about all of this is that I used to get to go on these calls, too - as a reporter. Dalton and I met when I was covering a brush fire story. I know what it's like to feel the rush of running to a fire scene, not knowing what you're going to find when you get there, the camaraderie between emergency workers. Now I'm relegated to armchair quarterback.
Dalt came home, soaked in a hot bath I drew for him, drank some coffee and left for work.
Maybe armchair quarterback ain't so bad after all.
In addition to being a high school world history and BCIS (business computer integration systems) teacher, my honey is the first assistant chief of our local VFD (volunteer fire department), and a certified ECA (emergency care attendant), which means he is also a First Responder. Not only does he fight fires, he's first on the scene at MVA's (motor vehicular accidents), downed power lines or trees across the road, and anytime someone calls an ambulance.
Now, this is a volunteer position. Not only does he NOT get paid for any of this, he's on call 24 hours a day, except when he's at his day job. It's his hobby. He loves it, and it's one of the things I love and admire about him the most.
This morning, his pager went off a little after 3 a.m. (I'm sure he knows the exact time, forgive me if I'm fuzzy.) It's not the first time this has happened, it won't be the last, it just comes with the territory. But, wow.
He jumped up, threw on the clothes he keeps ready on top of the chest of drawers for just such an occasion, kissed me and flew out the door. I was left alone with a house full of sleeping kids, the dog and the pager. The kids never woke up, the dog kept me warm, the pager kept me apprised of what was going on with the call.
It was a structure fire in a partially completed house, venting through the roof and threatening nearby woods. The second assistant chief arrived first and took command of the scene, Dalt went in route with a tanker truck from Station 2 (the one nearest our house), followed by crews on the engine and tanker from Station 1. Another nearby VFD was called to assist with their tanker. The county fire marshall was called in but couldn't make it, so a county arson investigator was contacted. Dalt had to refill his tanker twice, a stop was put on the fire before it got to the woods, and by the time our alarm went of at 6:15, everybody was going back in service (which means things are wrapped up and ready for another call if needed.)
I slept for about two-and-a-half minutes.
The worst thing about all of this is that I used to get to go on these calls, too - as a reporter. Dalton and I met when I was covering a brush fire story. I know what it's like to feel the rush of running to a fire scene, not knowing what you're going to find when you get there, the camaraderie between emergency workers. Now I'm relegated to armchair quarterback.
Dalt came home, soaked in a hot bath I drew for him, drank some coffee and left for work.
Maybe armchair quarterback ain't so bad after all.
posted by Cas at 10:04 AM
1 Comments:
Doesn't sound like fun but at least they contained the fire from being worse than it could have been and he arrived home safe and sound. Fires can be such tricky little things, especially with weather conditions not always in favor (winds, et cetera). So thankfully he did what he needed to and came home to you -as did the other men and women. Sounds like no one was hurt or anything but definitely could be possible arson. How's NaNo going? Getting lots of words in? Probably not since you are in training for Walgreen's supervisory positions - lol - keep me posted - E :)
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