tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68915380331612270542024-02-06T20:54:39.471-08:00Firegirl FolliesThe not-so-tall tales, and short comings of a female firefighter and her quest through Paramedic school...Mindihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10118604007273120114noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6891538033161227054.post-29138254369396509072012-04-25T15:48:00.000-07:002012-04-25T15:48:18.993-07:00CADDYSHACK<br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Took a blog break and now I'm back!! With some great posts! Todays is a lil story, about a car accident I responded to a while back. It happened on a nice day, mid-afternoon. Home skillet was driving along, and claimed another car hit him head on, and spun him around a few times, and drove off. When I arrives on scene, there was a slew of peeps hanging out with home skillet. I walked a long them and asked them where they were sitting, etc. NONE of them having been in the car. Just a few fellas having a BBQ when they heard the crash. When I got to the driver (home skillet) I asked him if he was ok, and of course he was a little shaken up. I saw no obvious injuries, and checked his car, and told him he was lucky and the usual banter about him wearing his seat belt. I noticed however, that as he was speaking with me, he had brown on his hand. I didn't smell anything, so I ignored it. I moved on to talking with the police officer that responded, and let my partner get some information for our paperwork. I noticed he had some of the same brown ALL OVER the seat of his pants. So, naturally in my assumptions (coming from 12 years of experience) I assumed that he pooped himself. I pondered, that he was probably on some sort of drugs, or crashed, devised his story, and pooped all in the same split second. The times I see a "CODE BROWN" are usually our elderly patient who has been ill, fallen and hadn't made it to the bathroom, or our usual drug or alcohol induced candidate that releases his bowels when he sees the cops with us. Of course that's where my brain went. I decided to look inside the car for any paraphernalia, alcohol bottles, and whatever else I could find to back up my suspicion. And there, plain as day, was a Hershey bar in the drivers seat. Homeboy probably fell asleep, or reached for said Hershey bar, and crashed his car. Thankful it wasn't poop, but then again, what a waste of good chocolate.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FF/Paramedic Jeanie Budge Bihlmaier</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: right;"></div> <span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>It's been said that people come into our lives for a reason. That is definately the case here. I met Jeanie almost 2 years ago, at the North Fork Fire Dept. I had started there, in 1999. I've always worked there off and on, and in this case, was asked by the assistant chief to cover a shift while he was out of town. Jeanie and I were on that shift. We worked all day, and talked and laughed, and while I was going through a very difficult trial, she was supportive and instantly protective after knowing me just a few hours :) </strong></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>At that time, She had just finished her firefighter training, at UVU in the Recruit Academy. I was in the middle of paramedic school, stressed out of my mind. She applied for UVU's paramedic program and was accepted, and also made the class president. I finished medic school, and she carried on with her class. </strong></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeanie and son Lander</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>I visited her occasionally on her ride-along shifts at my station, and we kept in touch daily. It was nice to have someone, to talk to, after a hard shift, or clinical... Someone that was going through it too.</strong></span></div><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>She had been testing, and interviewing for jobs for months. Along came Provo Fire & Rescue. I was with her, when she received the news that she had passed the first test, and was moving on to the next one. We screamed like teenage girls that just got asked to their first dance :) She tested, was interviewed, and offered a position. Again, screaming ensued. We keep in touch now, every shift, every call, every day. It's been awesome, to have someone go through the same struggles and trials in a male dominated job. She claims I am her inspiration, well she is my motivation to keep going when this job gets rough, as well as my inspiration to be a great mom. She is definately a best friend I'll have forever. </strong></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Congrats Jeanie, love you and SO proud of the paramedic you are, and will be...</strong></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeanie in boot camp, training for new job<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">AirMed is an ambulance in the sky. They operate helicopters as well as fixed wing airplanes, accomodating much of the west with medical transport. They transport patients across state lines, respond to various trauma accidents, and so on. I was priviledged to ride along or, "fly along" with them in Februaury. I flew twice in the chopper, and once in the fixed wing plane to Idaho and back. What I experienced, was a level of care that I am honored to pass my patients on to. It was most interesting to see what happens when I transfer a patient to them. I had a great day, and met great, educated and inspiring people. Here are some pics of my day!</span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlkH77PmDgkx7ztwne6_gaxZ9CH-jy2oqt2LXbQblBsSv0U3d-SesCdZ1Vl6QVcFD9dAyJHWugH5Ip0FypprVHF3hrvLtRjab7wx7JLQQXeHBuNISU04ENLHgzOS9j9pseKakXH_8vKE/s1600/airmed+063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFlkH77PmDgkx7ztwne6_gaxZ9CH-jy2oqt2LXbQblBsSv0U3d-SesCdZ1Vl6QVcFD9dAyJHWugH5Ip0FypprVHF3hrvLtRjab7wx7JLQQXeHBuNISU04ENLHgzOS9j9pseKakXH_8vKE/s320/airmed+063.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Salt Lake City</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1INgYnA3VXSO1FAEy7Fy2L9cX-amigWfgaf9CY7dyhC3lGBoZZfDnYOaJQ4EOisd8d_CM3w6pajHyu_Pdhwob8dzwydHHiGjs3Dc1JYI1iS_LpRr986FdESWNH2fmu3aNDT9uYpk59AI/s1600/airmed+076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1INgYnA3VXSO1FAEy7Fy2L9cX-amigWfgaf9CY7dyhC3lGBoZZfDnYOaJQ4EOisd8d_CM3w6pajHyu_Pdhwob8dzwydHHiGjs3Dc1JYI1iS_LpRr986FdESWNH2fmu3aNDT9uYpk59AI/s320/airmed+076.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flight in fixed wing</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4WCGZr2Gu_ycispxsm3dc1_a9RqhaHtaqxlZZiTKwdErFjxUhSEodBugUYNbQSWUB7axqDxrfUMNJ4sDj6UCbN4-JIYNVRawsAP-NnopkGi2LHU6PixmHwomVlshSm9nkHEW06-YC92c/s1600/airmed+099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4WCGZr2Gu_ycispxsm3dc1_a9RqhaHtaqxlZZiTKwdErFjxUhSEodBugUYNbQSWUB7axqDxrfUMNJ4sDj6UCbN4-JIYNVRawsAP-NnopkGi2LHU6PixmHwomVlshSm9nkHEW06-YC92c/s320/airmed+099.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning the ropes with Ben, flight medic</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbg5UHAokVBZGsB8iqFDH07GK9_tLxbUkmXHx3xpAMd7GHVzCexKcXz_wSMO_FhfgTgxnJ9m8J_ise-mhBMJ6zeJ8gSxGloWWWvE4OB5t9eypPbvXta3-OgKXM1C2TzFmrR8i7rsPhdkU/s1600/airmed+094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbg5UHAokVBZGsB8iqFDH07GK9_tLxbUkmXHx3xpAMd7GHVzCexKcXz_wSMO_FhfgTgxnJ9m8J_ise-mhBMJ6zeJ8gSxGloWWWvE4OB5t9eypPbvXta3-OgKXM1C2TzFmrR8i7rsPhdkU/s320/airmed+094.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fixed wing I flew in</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGqGM_Ix7Hg32o2G3POw-VLU3YimR-bavpq-NXS-96FBdqr89O19wAemayu0Hfp0QQy7H578Ah4h9Y-OSLXjCu-v4h5SLSgUwSuTqrjzamNQIf3-lekeoK2QWlQsKyJvCOxK2m1g6lpQ/s1600/airmed+101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlGqGM_Ix7Hg32o2G3POw-VLU3YimR-bavpq-NXS-96FBdqr89O19wAemayu0Hfp0QQy7H578Ah4h9Y-OSLXjCu-v4h5SLSgUwSuTqrjzamNQIf3-lekeoK2QWlQsKyJvCOxK2m1g6lpQ/s320/airmed+101.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SUNSET, Prefect day....</td></tr>
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Both at Sundance, and the North Fork Fire Dept. Occasionally, I come back to my old stompin' grounds, for a shift or two. One fine summer a few years ago, I was helping my friend Kenny, the Asst. Chief, with some other firefighters, with controlled burns. Wildfire, as devastating as it can be, actually helps the forest by cleaning out the dead, and promoting new growth. We were chopping trees down, and cleaning up the dead, and burning it up. As clutz-y as I am, you can gather how muddy my pants were after a day of this, since I'd fall every hike we were on. There happened to be a large wildfire to the north of us, that had come very close to a neighborhood of homes. Kenny, had put the new fire truck in, and the department, for an assist to the US Forest Service. We were to go up and protect the neighborhood in case the fire krept close to the homes again. We were stationed and were to rotate every few hours. We were the overnight shift. We went to the de-briefing and shift change for the night fire crews coming on. We also were able to eat dinner with them before we all started our shifts. We got plates and sat down, just the three of us. Kenny, Stephen, and I. If any of you know Stephen, he likes his food. He wolfed down about three bites of a pasta salad, when I heard... "IS THIS SHRIMP!!!??"</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcdfEfL2H5JxotC-CX1iNNjy1xCiLpfc1g0rh9OyWOmJ1Ii2_GcnDB60SLPjhylJfIvSPMZaIiJX70NLzVU8XMmogfYHfL2nkCcDPQwK8TnNko0s9zje3Sydzlo0KNdHJhLql6cThOFnc/s1600/shrimp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcdfEfL2H5JxotC-CX1iNNjy1xCiLpfc1g0rh9OyWOmJ1Ii2_GcnDB60SLPjhylJfIvSPMZaIiJX70NLzVU8XMmogfYHfL2nkCcDPQwK8TnNko0s9zje3Sydzlo0KNdHJhLql6cThOFnc/s200/shrimp.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I said, "um, yeah I think..." He immediately responds, "OH SH*T!!" I exclaimed, "YOU'RE ALLERGIC!!?" he jumps up, and tells me he is running to the engine for some benedryl. After being gone about 10 minutes, I panic. I jump up from debriefing, and go looking for Stephen, imagining to find him collapsed in the fetal position, and wheezing for air. I find him, on the phone with his wife, just fine, however, full of benedryl. We get to our post and start our duties. All three of us sat in the front of the truck, Stephen in the middle. Kenny and I are talking, watching the fire and laughing about the good old days, when I noticed Stephen, face down, dead asleep. Those of you that know me and my laugh, know it's more of a cackle and snort, than a laugh, and he wasn't budging. All the benedryl knocked him clean out. We'd move positions, and patrol around the area, discussing plans of evacuation of we needed to etc. We parked where we could see the hill, and sat for a bit. It's around 3:30am. All the neighborhood is quietly sleeping. The truck is dark, and Kenny pushes a button on the steering wheel, to put the engine into a "high idle" which is better in the engines of fire apparatus'. Instead, he hits the <em>air horn. </em>Without a hitch, just as if he'd been awake for hours, in the conversations, everything, Stephen pipes up, and yells.."TIME TO MOVE!!" Kenny already had the truck in gear and was driving as fast as he could out of the area, while I'm ducking, and laughing hysterically at what just happened, and that Stephen, though being knocked out, jumped up and called out our command. Needless to say, I'll never forget how funny that night was, and how glad I was Stephen had ingested shrimp, even though it could've killed him, it didn't. And he's sitting here next to me now. Eating...</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<a href="http://www.heraldextra.com/news/local/north/pleasant-grove/article_cf731965-1fe5-5f82-862b-50532c112822.html">http://www.heraldextra.com/news/local/north/pleasant-grove/article_cf731965-1fe5-5f82-862b-50532c112822.html</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">TOP TEN CLINICAL CONUNDRUMS:</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">#10) BEING CALLED THE WRONG NAME....</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">One certain firefighter/paramedic from a neiboring agency, calling me any name but my own. My fault, however, that he asked if it was ANDREA? and I said, Mindi. Next day, "TIFFANY, right? I said yes. His captain called me MANDY. and The rest of the day, I was called KID. </span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">#9) PATIENT PICK-UPS</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Yes, picking up on me. Whilst in a breezy hospital gown.</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">#8) YOU'RE A FIREFIGHTER!?</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The all too common conversation, was "Oh, your not a nurse?" "No, I'm a paramedic here getting clinical hours" "OH! YOU are a <em>firefighter</em>?!? "Yes." "My sons, brothers, cousins, dogs nephew, is a firefighter, but he doesn't have a job yet, can you get him one?" or "YOU are a <em>firefighter</em>? but your a girl... is that hard?" Yes. </span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">#7) OLD MAN STORIES</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Let's just sum this one up in a few words, since I still get frustrated thinking about it. Old man. Me. Hospital room. he's not happy. I get to hear it all, for probably 45 minutes.</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">#6) WASTING MEDICATION</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We practince IV's and giving certain medications. I drew one up, was pushing out the air bubble, out of the syringe, my "air bubble" was the medication. Oops. </span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">#5) CREEPY <em>BACKDRAFT</em> MAN</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As I'm standing at the nurses station, I notice a greasy, odd man staring at me as the paramedics wheeled his friend into a room. He approached me, and it was an instant "personal space" issue. "So, you're with the Fire Department?" "Yes." now, at this point I'm ready for the normal "wow you're a girl stuff...which he said, but then it went verrrry...akward." "I just watched Backdraft, and man, you guys are really great, carrying kids out and stuff, man that's so great. I can't believe you do that, can I shake your hand?" Uh, movie magic there fella. He shook my hand, which I immediately sanitized, and tried to stay busy. He decides to leave, comes back to my personal space to let me know I'm the most beautiful firefighter he's ever seen, wants to shake my hand again (immediate sanitation follows) and leaves. I thought I was free and clear.... Not so. I then went into a room helping a gentleman with chest pain. I started and IV, had the curtains drawn in the room, and as I'm drawing blood, this crazy shows up again "JUST wanted to say HI! HI!!" really.... Hope he gets a copy of <em>Backdraft</em> for Christmas.</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">#4) TUNNEL SINGER</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In between the Primary Childrens Medical Center, and the University of Utah hospitals, is a long tunnel connecting them. One day after a PCMC clinical, I was making the long walk back to U of U. Interestingly enough, hardly anyone was in the tunnel. I heard a male voice, singing. As I got further in the tunnel, it got louder. I finally saw a man, sitting on a bench, singing his heart out in spanish. I wondered if he knew I was coming, but as I got closer, I noticed he didn't care. He kept singing, and it made me smile. He had an amazing voice, and although I didn;t know the words, it touched me. I wondered what he was there for. Waiting for his wife that was ill? Or a child? I'll never know. But after a long hard day, he'll never know how much he made my day. I passed him and he kept singing. It faded as I walked away, but my smile stayed affixed the whole drive home.</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">#3) BURNED</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As a form of extra credit in the semester, I was allowed to attend a apecial burn class for Fliht medics/nurses and Burn Unit nurses. As part of the 2nd part of the day, I was to be made up as a burn victim. They were all required to pass some practical testing with those of us that were made up as victims. I got the uh, easiest one (sarchastically of course). Electrical Burns. I had to form my hands into half claw, half fists and dip them in wax, over and over. The wax feels like typical 3rd degree burned skin. Once I had dipped so many times, I had to keep them stiff, for 3 hours. 3 hours. 3 hours!! They painted the make up on and I laid on a table and tried to act burned. I did have a very nice view, of some nice looking flight medics though :)</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">#2) PASS OUT</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I had a night shift in an ER. After being there for 5 hours, I was standing at the nurses station, and felt a little sick. I thought it was since I hadn't eaten all day, so I ate a granola bar. We had 6 traumas in 5 hours, and I was running around helping other nurses, and finally had a minute. After deciding I didn't want to announce I was sick, I went to the last trauma to help the nurse. It was a patient that had been beaten severely, and was covered in blood. I started to clean him up, and suddenly, my hearing faded, going, going, gone. I looked up and a white tunnel closed in on me. I grabbed the side of the bed, took a deep breath, and slowly stumbled over to the nurse. "I think I'm passing out..." She grabs me, and sits me down where she can watch me. I pulled off my surgical gown and mask, and she said, "OH, you are PALE!" I told her I had seen many a trauma victim, I was so worried she'd think I couldn't handle blood!! So nerdy. I sat for a minute, then left. I cried the whole way home out of embarrassment. Turned out, I had a flu bug.</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">#1) HIVES vs. NIPPLES</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My greatest story ever. A woman came in after suffering an allergic reation. We gave her 3 different medications, to help the reaction, her breathing, and the hives. Her son, was speaking to me in broken english, about how I was a paramedic. She started to come around and he asks me.. "When do her nipples go away?" I reply, "Excuse me?" he says, "THE NIPPLES, when do they go away??" he then points to the bumps on her face. I respond loudly, "HIVES! HIVES!.....HIIIIVES"</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK88liu1pXgeA_-lmZZWZmJ1WOhv0lPNsUwA8Hjaur8m0Y8C9zH9g9QS-tE9FlpUmiWJJAXsuKBTf3xBI96YoYXdHAoqxoBJvdcqPZwvHiccr41ou6gn4E6GPurc9EPzU6lPKlUaxdpPI/s1600/025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK88liu1pXgeA_-lmZZWZmJ1WOhv0lPNsUwA8Hjaur8m0Y8C9zH9g9QS-tE9FlpUmiWJJAXsuKBTf3xBI96YoYXdHAoqxoBJvdcqPZwvHiccr41ou6gn4E6GPurc9EPzU6lPKlUaxdpPI/s320/025.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jake, Britt, Cap Jolley, Stan and Chase</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrcK8t6wfmxtPEx1IW6jfkT5mGeuVOdpR_9_g_CZDMnwF-AAM3eYoezpGimi0OnFZU5uzFrRSPj-w6s-MqVZ7xwSwwek9iXj5MoI1wnlYXlMzNRKcSL96OzqEZL1zCprPyUOzAaESHqVU/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrcK8t6wfmxtPEx1IW6jfkT5mGeuVOdpR_9_g_CZDMnwF-AAM3eYoezpGimi0OnFZU5uzFrRSPj-w6s-MqVZ7xwSwwek9iXj5MoI1wnlYXlMzNRKcSL96OzqEZL1zCprPyUOzAaESHqVU/s320/024.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCFLmhn2m7JZqxSbl4sJCVfGuTs8JZSVMcXBZbwj1PqwBRLuWUhRmOzs0lYGh7JpFeBwWa54CnCPEIY7YE0vjMbi6MaRKlKkZdgTGTmylxDan51bn5DbWnLV5UwugN5zHkn1zt7LA10T0/s1600/030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCFLmhn2m7JZqxSbl4sJCVfGuTs8JZSVMcXBZbwj1PqwBRLuWUhRmOzs0lYGh7JpFeBwWa54CnCPEIY7YE0vjMbi6MaRKlKkZdgTGTmylxDan51bn5DbWnLV5UwugN5zHkn1zt7LA10T0/s200/030.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jakes bloody nose, wish I could say from the cheese burger, but not so...</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWkujC_-uD1x_Tq0N5O-Fn058rNC0vU8oRwLiskrWDmYnhceqxi4pgNegEDZJZOzlhwD7i7CGwKEyacLTkmXBrIMpzf1ey3N4c9lA22eXDOhygHI-7_XpVGaBhv_Uwxbb6og_J54wTdc/s1600/swak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWkujC_-uD1x_Tq0N5O-Fn058rNC0vU8oRwLiskrWDmYnhceqxi4pgNegEDZJZOzlhwD7i7CGwKEyacLTkmXBrIMpzf1ey3N4c9lA22eXDOhygHI-7_XpVGaBhv_Uwxbb6og_J54wTdc/s320/swak.jpg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>My niece and I met up, and decided to go get something to eat after both our busy days. We went to a fast food restaraunt, in a different city than I work in,made an order, and they had us pull into "lane 2." We were chatting, laughing, and talking about our days. I kept rolling the window up and down to hand my money, etc. I left it down for a second, and continued to talk with her and look ahead. I heard a small, sweet voice, "Excuse me!?" I started looking around, thinking I hadn't paid enough, or something like it, to notice a sweet, roughly 10 year old boy, in the car next to me smiling... "Hi, YES?" I said. "Are you a firefighter?" he asked. "Yes I am, where have you seen me?" He said, "Your sticker, on your car..." I started to laugh, and said "OH! ha ha, yes!!, Do you want to be a firefighter too someday?" He said, "My dad does, he's in Paramedic school right now." Just then his mom rolled her window down and said, "yes, he knows you, he's in the UVU program." So I smiled and said how great it was, and that it is a great program, She then asked, "don't you work for LifeFlight also?" I said, "No, I wish, only really good paramedics do!!" We laughed. I then waved at the boy, told him I loved his haircut and to come see me at the station sometime. He responded by saying he had been there and sat in our tiller, and I told him how much I loved working in the tiller. We said our farewells and left. </strong></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>I thought a lot about him that night, about how sweet, polite, and how he was fascinated with what I do for a job. It was nice to feel a little guy was so proud of his dad, and new my job, and recognized me in such a random place. I reminded me, of how I am always being watched when I wear the uniform, or drive with the sticker on my car, our fire plates etc. He made my week, and was a great beam of sunshine for me that day. I love waht I do, for the very reason, someone like him wanted to talk to me in a drive thru.</strong></span><br />
<strong><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia;">(pictures to come....)</span></strong><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I feel that I can write this, now that my bruise, and the shame of it all, has finally gone. My last shift at the fire station, was pretty boring. Helped a poor lady that fell out of her wheel chair, hung with the boys, and we all turned in for the night. A fire call came out around midnight. Smoke visible, not sure where it was coming from. I was in the tiller that night, so we drove to the neighborhood it was reported in, and circled...and circled... and circled... for what seemed like forever. We finally found where we thought the smoke was coming from. Captain Cluff told me to get out, talk tothe homeowners, and ask for permission to enter their backyard to look for the fire. I jumped off the truck, and just had my t-shirt and fire pants on, not fully "turned out", or, not fully clothed in my gear. I searched around, (Of course, all the junk in the world resides in this backyard) couldn't find it. Came around front, where the rest of the crew was fully turned out, and each doing their own assignments, setting up ladders, using the thermal imaging camera etc. I decided to go for my gear, which was still in the truck. Now,<em> before I go ANY further</em>, I'd like to point out, I'm 5'2" I usually miss a lot of stuff overhead. I walk in between a car and a pick up that are parked in front, when... CRACK!!! I looked up, at a long, ugly fiberglass canoe sticking out of the stupid truck. It was a blue color, the same color as the sky at 1am, therefore it was completely camoflauged. Now, what's the first thing I was asked by people? "Were you wearing a helmet?" To which, I hang my head in shame, that I was going to get the flippin' thing, when this happened. Whats even better, the crowd that gathered to see what was going on, sat and watched the whole thing happen. Not a smile, not a laugh, not an "are you ok?" nuthin... I grabbed my gear and put it on, ducking my head the whole time. What's best about this story?? The lady barking at us for the smoke aggravating her asthma. She then walks 10 feet, and what else? Lights a cigarette. She then asks the captain, "Isn't the fire smoke SO bad for my asthma?" His response: "Nothing more than that cigarette is doing...."</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>This past Saturday, was the Strawberry Days parade. I have always been excited to walk in it, as 4 years ago, it was what made my decision to return to the fire service. I saw them walking, and ran into an old friend from another department, Jason. He told me to come and train with them. Later, I met the chief, and decided I'd work my way back. The next year, after being hired on, I was ecstatic to walk in it!! Although, my entire family was out of town. I walked and loved it, but it was a downer for me, knowing nobody knew my accomplishments. The last year, I decided not to even walk. I had some other work things going on, and decided I'd avoid it. This year, I knew I had to. I have no marriage anymore, and knew possibly I'd have some family. But I did it for me, to walk with my friends. It proved to be AWESOME. So great. We displayed the last 100 years, of fire service, starting with a hose cart, the our old fire truck, and an engine, then our new tiller truck. We all walked behind it. I had people yelling my name, other people clapping and cheering at "the female one" and I high fived children along the way. The best moment, was an odd duck walking down his driveway, asking me to come over to him. I ignored and kept high fiving. Once he caught up to me, he claimed... "Ma buddy had a flower for ya, but he chickened out!" I ran closer to my boys LOL. Such a funny moment, as I typically have them. I saw my nephews, and my parents, and my nieces family all there waving. It was great, and a great moment for me to see how far I have come, and how much more I still need to accomplish!</strong></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRw8pbtN1WI">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRw8pbtN1WI</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D6kYqjTA_VEg%26feature%3Dfvw&h=377a2508af892bb8439ab43b95de9815">http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D6kYqjTA_VEg%26feature%3Dfvw&h=377a2508af892bb8439ab43b95de9815</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">we travel in six, four on an engine, two on an ambulance, this way we are always prepeared. This gentleman thout it was too many...."How many of you does it take to screw in the lightbulb??" to which my partner Brian answered, "Depends on the lighbulb..."</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">different call...Me, "How's your pain now sir?" his response... "It'd be fine if it weren't for these GOD-DAMMNED BUMPS!!" I apologized for the roads...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">sweetest, little old lady looks at me, and says "will you wipe my crack?"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">the common favorite, "I need my TEETH!" so I find the teeth...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"get my wallet!" ma'am, I have it.. "no you don't, you don't know where it is!" ma'am, I have it, "No you don't! its in the kitchen," ma'am I have it, "no you don't!" ma'am, I've got it! "well I need to show you my medications!" ma'am, I saw them, "No you didn't!" ma'am, I did. "NO! you didn't!" ma'am, I did, and I noticed you took them this evening, by your empty day-of the-week case..."Oh." </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">another common favorite, "Leave me ALONE!" well, you called us to come help you, "well don't touch me!" ok, do you need to go to the hospital? "NO!" ok, why did you call 911 then? "because I needed help!" ok, well let us help you then, "LEAVE ME ALONE!"</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK-nXmVPjYjt3xi_-ISN3p8rsO9mxJOSBToj05anuPM_9o1srP2fgb7WLToybd-rDqTxwqY6ou0BOCOAnRnwwG7D7cvgfbvXycHiU7ugWACwHpS1bIQzVi6cLnBA0-KY3jROUY4f8dTco/s1600/geri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK-nXmVPjYjt3xi_-ISN3p8rsO9mxJOSBToj05anuPM_9o1srP2fgb7WLToybd-rDqTxwqY6ou0BOCOAnRnwwG7D7cvgfbvXycHiU7ugWACwHpS1bIQzVi6cLnBA0-KY3jROUY4f8dTco/s320/geri.jpg" /></a><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I have to giggle in the most professional of ways, but I can't help myself, bless them. I can't remember how many homes I've been to, that the walls are covered in photos of children and grandchildren. Or the veteran, whom has scores of military photos and medals across the wall. I love to hold their fraile and bony hands, some of them not knowing where or who they are, to just give them a sense of comfort. More often than not, their hands are freezing, from poor circulation. As upset as they are, and as rude as they can be, I always think of their loved ones, and the history they carry with them. I try to always remember I'll be in their place someday, and hope someone will treat me kindly and with dignity. In a lot of cases, it's hard for them to feel of importance anymore. I try to make sure the 15 minutes they spend with me, I learn from them. Too many times I've visited homes where it seems they are forgotton. They just need assisitance getting back into bed, and want to talk to you all day long. I'll never forget, a sweet older gentleman I was called to transport back to his care facility. As I got him settled into his room, he began to point out pictures of his horses, and the various things he had hung on his wall. I sat down and let him show me. He showed me picture after picture, and my partner had to come find me. I told the man I had to leave, thanked him for showing me everything and hoped he take care. As I left, I noticed a picture. Then, the name on his room door. It hit me, that I knew who he was. His son had worked with my father on the ambulance, and was a firefighter for another city. While he'll never know that I had spent time with his father, it struck a chord that I need to respect my elders, for he had taught his children well. I had heard of stories where his son had been a great friend and partner, to my dad, I'm thankful for that. </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia; font-size: x-large;"><strong>THANK YOU</strong></span></div><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">On a more serious note, THANK YOU to all who follow this site, and to all who just stop by for a gander. I really love the comments and notes I get, from any and all people. THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart, for checking out my blog, it truly is entertaining to write, especially knowing you stop by for a spell :)</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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