On February 5^th, 1963 when I reported to my first fire station assignment, little did I realize where the journey would take me and for how long.  In our youth we really don’t have the perspective of long range planning when it comes to what one will do when the music stops and so does the dancing. Often we just live in the moment not realizing they pass by quickly.

My first shift on the Rescue Squad I was actually terrified.  It had always been my dream growing up, and I carried a little secret. There was those times, even as a teen, when I saw blood or someone injured I would get weak in the knees, light headed and pass out.  Not a good trait to exhibit when you’re sent out intentionally trying to help someone.

Working the Squad was special. I had to pay my dues and ride on tailboards first. Those that worked the Squads were special and it was never anyone’s first assignment. You had to get picked for the assignment. My fear of failure was pretty high at the time.

First shift and it was my birthday. What a great birthday gift I thought. My childhood dream realized.  First call didn’t come in until late at night and it was a Volkswagon and a Freight train. Not much of a contest. There was too much adrenaline that kept my blood flow and blood pressure up, and kept me conscious thru the event. In fact after getting back in quarters I wasn’t able to sleep the rest of the night. Too many thoughts racing thru my mind, mostly, what could I have done that would make the situation better and how can the human body take so much punishment. In reality, there wasn’t much we could have done unless we could have bent the time-space fabric and turn the clock back and stopped the driver from going around the closed warning gates. Stupidity, two lives wasted, and that bothered me. How quickly life is snuffed out on a mere moment’s lapse of judgment. There were many more shifts to follow over the years that reinforced the stupidity factor I observed that night.

Three days later, Christmas morning, 1967 the call that set the hook came.  A child at the bottom of the pool.  She was out of the pool when we arrived and in the excitement of the moment who knows if she was ever really unconscious or had stopped breathing. I was new to the unit and I followed the Captain’s orders. And this was before Paramedics and patient assessments.

This was also a time when the Sylvester method of resuscitation was being taught and standard practice.  The victim is placed face down on a hard surface, back pressure-arm lift. About as efficient as the Native American, goat bladder, blow smoke up the ass method. CPR was just starting to emerge, but wasn’t an accepted practice because the Red Cross didn’t teach it at the time. Politics, policies and government agencies slow to change, just like today. If the Red Cross didn’t teach it we didn’t do it.  It was the department policy. We didn’t have backboards, cervical collars and extrication was accomplished with cutting torches or a K-12 depending on which unit responded. We even covered victims as they were referred to then with asbestos blankets in the process, charged lines at the ready.  Scary when I think back about it.

The adrenaline was high that morning. It was Christmas and it was a child. And I believed in miracles.  They don’t come often, but every once in awhile, especially when they’re needed they do happen. That day one happened and the emotional sense of well being I felt was overwhelming. I have never felt anything like that since. I was hooked. The adrenaline rush and the euphoria of a save, a child and it was Christmas. 

Later on EMT and then Paramedic training came along and EMS opened its door to me and I was always eager to learn. I would travel across country on my own dime to attend many of the conferences and training sessions.

I’ve seen riots, MCI’s, earthquakes, tornadoes, plane crashes, grain elevator explosions, conflagrations and floods over the years. Over the next 20 year period  I ran thousands of calls and there’s few that I remember that had an impact or stayed with me. I’ve always told people there were a lot of people I helped over the years, but there were only four specifically that I know that my being there and what I did made a difference. The difference between life and death was in my hands. I’d like to say I had more, but am content knowing that I was the deciding factor on these four. Often I’d like to know what these four people did with their lives over the years. Did they go on to do great things or better yet, did they help someone along the way in their travels thru Life. One act perpetuates another, pay it forward.

I’ve had my share of good calls and bad calls. Once, on a warm Summer’s night in 1976 my partner and I were on a call going up the Big Thompson Canyon in Colorado and a flash flood stuck. Again, another miracle, George and I  escaped the ambulance and held on to a rock crevice on the side of a mountain for eleven hours as the river washed cars, homes, trees and anything else in its path of destruction in to the valley down below.  We were the only two people to survive that night that were hit by the wall of water coming down the canyon. There were many who were not so lucky.

The remains of the ambulance George and I were in after they found it 8 miles down river

I lost a very good friend that night.  Sgt. Hugh Purdy with the Colorado State Patrol who was overtaken by the water in Drake while he was attempting to evacuate people and get them to higher ground. His words still echo in the back of my memory when he radioed dispatch that the water was overtaking him.. His body was found 26 miles down river. When they found his patrol car the only way they could identify it was by the key ring still in the ignition. Not much of his car was left and the ambulance George and I were in was found 8 miles down river after going over the dam at the water treatment plant.

Being in EMS has expanded my Universe and allowed me to live more moments and witness more miracles then anyone else who would have in any ten lifetimes. It has also provided me with many sincere friendships over the years and those I cherish more then the sum of all the events. That is what makes EMS so rewarding, the people.  The last 23 years here with the Central California EMS Agency has exposed me to new ideas and given me the opportunity to work with some very dynamic people and organizations.  Like working the streets, EMS needs bright young people who will continue to bring fresh ideas and their dreams. I’ve come to the realization that most of my dreams have been replaced by memories as time has snuck up on me.

Retiring was something that was always in the back of my mind and I’ve actually planned for the event. The problem is it comes sooner then you really expect it to, then what do you do?  I actually thought I might plug away a couple more years, safe in my niche in Administration. Shuffling papers, reviewing contracts, pointing and clicking a mouse is pretty easy.  Except the last couple of years there have been some events that have caused me to reflect purpose and reassess my plans. Plus, we have another RFP process coming up later in the year for Fresno and I won’t miss that at all. I’m leaving while I still have my hair and teeth.

My youngest son is career Army and only 8 years from retiring himself. He just returned from a year long deployment in Iraq where 32 of his fellow soldiers with the 3^rd Infantry Division lost their lives. I feel a great need to spend time with him and his being at the risk of deployment at a moment’s notice just re-enforces my sense of urgency. He’s not in supply or support, he’s in Infantry and damn proud of it.

Twice after seeing casualty reports come in I ended up in the ER with a hypertensive crisis. Let me tell you up front, I am not a good patient to deal with.  A word of warning for future paramedics or EMT’s who get me later on in life. Use the word “cheese” or “gomer” when you refer to me along the way, God help you.

In the last year I have two new grand-daughters. My grandson is playing baseball, another grand daughter took up tennis, and I’m missing out participating in the fun. So that means I need to travel, and sitting at a desk shuffling paperwork will not do anything for my children and grandchildren’s memories later on.  Friday, March 24^th will be my last day as an EMS Specialist with the Central California EMS Agency.

My daughter has been helping me do some remodeling projects on my home and I rather enjoy the father-daughter time together with her. Were it not for her I would not have the “woman’s touch” visible in my home.  I’m an appliance white and Salvation Army motif type decorator. 

My oldest son and his family have been coming down from Sacramento on weekends and it gives me the opportunity to fix the “King Breakfast” as my grandchildren call it.  Hash-brown potatoes, fried eggs, biscuits and sausage gravy, cheese stuffed sausages, bacon, buttermilk pancakes with hot blueberry compote to top, sprinkled with powdered sugar. Having cooked for 32 firemen has helped me deal with my grandkids when it comes to food preparation and pleasing the palate, and Vytorin is a daily staple for me at this point in life anyway.

As I travel I can still write about EMS and still search for the best cheeseburger along the way. My laptop and cell phone travel with me.  I’m old, but not dead and not in a nursing home just yet.

One never knows, I may stop in unannounced and visit some of you along the way.  Better yet, drop me a line and if I’m in your area along the way I’ll stop in. One can never have too many friends in life and I’m about to be a man of leisure. I have a lot of stories to tell. Some are even funny.

I’m closing one door and opening a new one that will be filled with new adventures and friendships.  I’ll be on the road.  First destination is Fort Benning in Columbus, Georgia, home of the 3^rd Infantry Division, 2/69 Armored Regiment. The last time I was there the firemen with Columbus Fire/EMS smiled and waved at me as they drove by as if they knew me and we were old friends. I must look like an old fireman or still have that look on my face that young boys get when they see a fire engine drive by.

I know a place that makes the best yeast rolls back there. Fire up the oven, I’m coming!

My grand daughter “Willow”, the next generation

John will continue in his role as EMSN Associate Chief Editor and to contribute his writings to his column.. he'll just be doing it from the road as he travels along  through the USA.

Send John a "Congrats!" or a "Thanks for all you did"
jmcmaster@hotmail.com