Tim O. Casey's Blog, page 2
March 17, 2012
March 7, 2012
Careful what you ask a firefighter.
Be warned this one isn’t an easy read, so think about it before reading.
People ask firefighters strange questions. Bet you didn’t know that. Even friends and family that have known us for years will ask. I would be at a Christmas party or a summer BBQ or a school function for the kids and it would happen.
“Hey TimO. Can I ask you a question?” I knew what was coming most of the time. The people, mostly men, wanted to ask questions that they thought they knew the answer to. A question that would somehow empower them as men.
When you are the “Fireman” at a party of mere mortal men, for some reason, that is male solely, you are perceived by many of the other males as the alpha, and at most non-fire department related gatherings you are the default alpha.
The rest of the pack doesn’t get to run free like a firefighter does. They live and work in much gentler worlds where the social order isn’t determined by Marquess of Queensberry rules.
Thus when influenced by an abundance of malted beverages and the hazy smells of fertile women that mostly dormant male gene awakens. Maybe his wife removed his man parts from the jar and allowed him to bring them to the party with him for a change, I don’t know.
What I do know is this kind of man invigorated by fresh air and a sudden rush of drunken testosterone feels the need to test his mettle against that of his perceived oppressor.
For most settings his wish wasn’t to be aggressive in a physical way, no, he wanted to show that given different variables he too could have been a firefighter, no big deal being a firefighter, and if I was a flame warrior then hell anyone could do it.
They knew me, I was nothing special and that pissed them off. They hated that the women adore their boys in blue and would constantly flirt with me and give me drive-bys just because of my job. Well damn they had hard jobs too; maybe they didn’t run into burning buildings like me, but in their fantasy worlds, in that tiny part of their brain where some maleness still lived, they knew they could do my job.
They knew given the right circumstances they would be a hero too. They knew if they were walking down a sidewalk and suddenly saw a house on fire that they would run in there and stumble out moments later dirty and blackened with a grateful child tucked under each arm.
All they needed was that chance to prove themselves men of the highest order, real men. They needed to believe that if things were different they wouldn’t be the societal eunuchs they knew themselves to be. This powerlessness and the three shots of Jack they had drank gave them the courage to ask me a question.
“You must see some crazy stuff huh?”
“Yeah I’ve seen some crazy stuff.”
And here it would come, give me your best shot, give me the gruesome details of life on the streets TimO, I can take it I’m a man too.
“Like what?” Most of the time I didn’t want to engage them like this. I knew the drill, I’d done it before.
“You don’t want to know that stuff Bob.”
“Yeah TimO I do.” First off I didn’t like being called TimO by those that hadn’t earned the right to call me TimO and it had to be earned.
In my youth I had made the mistake of calling a very senior fire captain by his nickname “Billy MaC” one day. He stopped dead in his tracks and swung around to face me.
“What did you call kid?” his face was red at the asking.
“Sorry Cap” I managed as I stumbled backwards at his approach. He dug a finger deep in my chest.
“You haven’t earned the privilege of calling me by that name. I’ll let you know if you ever do earn it.” He removed his finger and held me eyes for a few painful heartbeats. Then he walked away. I am proud to say I did get to call him Billy MaC years later.
“You know Bob, we firefighters deal with that crap all the time at work and I really don’t like talking shop on my days off.”
“Oh come on TimO, just give me an example.” It was always the little guys too. I thought of the movie Cool Hand Luke and the prison warden’s speech to Paul Newman.
“What we have here is a failure to communicate. Some men you just can’t reach, so you get what we had here last week. Which is the way he wants it. Well he gets it.” love that movie.
“Okay Bob, you have kids right?”
“Yeah.”
“Remember when they were toddlers and get away from you?”
“Of course happens all the time.”
“Okay, now imagine you aren’t sure where your toddler is one day. At the same you are wondering where the kid is you remember you need to move your car a few feet so you can get your lawnmower out of the garage. You jump in the car and back up two feet, on the third foot you hear a strange noise so you stop and get out of the car and there under your back wheels is that kid’s head. And she is still alive, you call 911 and when I get there you hand me your kid to save her. How about that Bob? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
His face curled in horror and I watched him as he vomited his hot dogs and beer. He never asked me what it was like to do my job again.
I don’t tell you this to horrify you, I tell you so you might know what we do isn’t always glorious. It has a cost and the men and women that wear these badges pay it. So if a rescue worker doesn’t want to talk shop at the Fourth of July party, don’t push them. Okay?
People ask firefighters strange questions. Bet you didn’t know that. Even friends and family that have known us for years will ask. I would be at a Christmas party or a summer BBQ or a school function for the kids and it would happen.
“Hey TimO. Can I ask you a question?” I knew what was coming most of the time. The people, mostly men, wanted to ask questions that they thought they knew the answer to. A question that would somehow empower them as men.
When you are the “Fireman” at a party of mere mortal men, for some reason, that is male solely, you are perceived by many of the other males as the alpha, and at most non-fire department related gatherings you are the default alpha.
The rest of the pack doesn’t get to run free like a firefighter does. They live and work in much gentler worlds where the social order isn’t determined by Marquess of Queensberry rules.
Thus when influenced by an abundance of malted beverages and the hazy smells of fertile women that mostly dormant male gene awakens. Maybe his wife removed his man parts from the jar and allowed him to bring them to the party with him for a change, I don’t know.
What I do know is this kind of man invigorated by fresh air and a sudden rush of drunken testosterone feels the need to test his mettle against that of his perceived oppressor.
For most settings his wish wasn’t to be aggressive in a physical way, no, he wanted to show that given different variables he too could have been a firefighter, no big deal being a firefighter, and if I was a flame warrior then hell anyone could do it.
They knew me, I was nothing special and that pissed them off. They hated that the women adore their boys in blue and would constantly flirt with me and give me drive-bys just because of my job. Well damn they had hard jobs too; maybe they didn’t run into burning buildings like me, but in their fantasy worlds, in that tiny part of their brain where some maleness still lived, they knew they could do my job.
They knew given the right circumstances they would be a hero too. They knew if they were walking down a sidewalk and suddenly saw a house on fire that they would run in there and stumble out moments later dirty and blackened with a grateful child tucked under each arm.
All they needed was that chance to prove themselves men of the highest order, real men. They needed to believe that if things were different they wouldn’t be the societal eunuchs they knew themselves to be. This powerlessness and the three shots of Jack they had drank gave them the courage to ask me a question.
“You must see some crazy stuff huh?”
“Yeah I’ve seen some crazy stuff.”
And here it would come, give me your best shot, give me the gruesome details of life on the streets TimO, I can take it I’m a man too.
“Like what?” Most of the time I didn’t want to engage them like this. I knew the drill, I’d done it before.
“You don’t want to know that stuff Bob.”
“Yeah TimO I do.” First off I didn’t like being called TimO by those that hadn’t earned the right to call me TimO and it had to be earned.
In my youth I had made the mistake of calling a very senior fire captain by his nickname “Billy MaC” one day. He stopped dead in his tracks and swung around to face me.
“What did you call kid?” his face was red at the asking.
“Sorry Cap” I managed as I stumbled backwards at his approach. He dug a finger deep in my chest.
“You haven’t earned the privilege of calling me by that name. I’ll let you know if you ever do earn it.” He removed his finger and held me eyes for a few painful heartbeats. Then he walked away. I am proud to say I did get to call him Billy MaC years later.
“You know Bob, we firefighters deal with that crap all the time at work and I really don’t like talking shop on my days off.”
“Oh come on TimO, just give me an example.” It was always the little guys too. I thought of the movie Cool Hand Luke and the prison warden’s speech to Paul Newman.
“What we have here is a failure to communicate. Some men you just can’t reach, so you get what we had here last week. Which is the way he wants it. Well he gets it.” love that movie.
“Okay Bob, you have kids right?”
“Yeah.”
“Remember when they were toddlers and get away from you?”
“Of course happens all the time.”
“Okay, now imagine you aren’t sure where your toddler is one day. At the same you are wondering where the kid is you remember you need to move your car a few feet so you can get your lawnmower out of the garage. You jump in the car and back up two feet, on the third foot you hear a strange noise so you stop and get out of the car and there under your back wheels is that kid’s head. And she is still alive, you call 911 and when I get there you hand me your kid to save her. How about that Bob? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
His face curled in horror and I watched him as he vomited his hot dogs and beer. He never asked me what it was like to do my job again.
I don’t tell you this to horrify you, I tell you so you might know what we do isn’t always glorious. It has a cost and the men and women that wear these badges pay it. So if a rescue worker doesn’t want to talk shop at the Fourth of July party, don’t push them. Okay?
February 18, 2012
Bathroom Rescue cont.
The first impact was too soft, I was worried that some portion of her might get in the way so I went easy. She giggled more and her towel fell down obstructing my view, I reapplied the towel and lined up another shot.
I nailed it a good one and I could see the vibrations from the impact translated across her flesh like the ripples of a stone tossed in a lake. The giggling continued with every hit, it was annoying her giggling, just the squally tone and rise and fall of it like a roller coaster, grated on me.
I had to get the damn toilet off, sweat was now pouring from my forehead and getting in my eyes. My lieutenant asked if maybe one of the other guys should give it a shot. I said no as I once again moved her towel back into position and out of my face.
After too many delicate swings of the hammer I decided to whack the hell out of that damn bolt. It worked and the bolt went flying. “Got it.” I scrambled to my feet and helped the others pull the bowl.
Now you see firefighters have sneaky ways about them. My partners knew that once freed Mrs. Sthuck was freed, she going to have to be reexamined medically, and none of them wanted to do it. That meant ho ever carried the toilet away would be exempt from the task.
A slight tug of war over the prized piece of porcelain ensued, I lost and the two other firefighters got possession of the bowl. “We’ll just carry this to the garage Lou.” “Yeah.” Was all the Lou said. I turned to address Mrs. Sthuck.
“Okay Mrs. Sthuck let me check you out before you get to moving around too much.” The towel had to be reapplied again. “Are you hurting anywhere?” I asked. She gave kind of a whole body shrug in an attempt to elicit any pain. “Well my back hurts, but it always hurts, and my legs have the pins and needles thing going on.”
I did a quick head to toe survey and found nothing out of the ordinary. “Let’s see if you can stand.” The Lou and I got in position to assist her to her feet. Good thing she had mostly dried out by now and we hadn’t put any lube on her arms or torso.
“Okay you ready Mrs. Sthuck?” I asked, “Yeah I think so.” “On three” the Lou said. He counted down and with all our collective efforts we restored Mrs. Sthuck to her feet.
She stood there nude, her hands out to her sides’ palms open just getting a feel for standing again. I grabbed the towel and tried to cover her. The children cheered their mother’s rescue and they squeezed past me to hug their mother.
“Oh thank you guys so much.” “No problem mama, that’s what we do.” Said the Lou, “If you’re sure you are alright we will be getting back in service now. Have a better day.” Said the Lou.
“What about my toilet” she asked. “I’m sorry.” The Lou turned back to her. “You have to put my toilet back.” “Oh sorry Mrs. Sthuck but we can’t do that. You need to contact a plumber for that.” He smiled at her.
“You took it off, now put it back.” Her tone changed abruptly and took on a very nasty edge. “I’m sorry but there is a liability if we put it back, if it were to leak and damage your house the city would be liable, so you’ll need to get a plumber or maybe a friend could help.”
“So you are refusing to put it back?” she took an aggressive and naked stance, it was unnerving to say the least. “I’m not refusing I’m trying to explain to you how this needs to be taken care of.”
“What is your badge number?” she asked. “We don’t have badge numbers, but I can give you one of my cards.” The Lou dug in his pocket and retrieved one of his cards and offered it to her. “I need you to write down all of your names on the back.” “Okay.”
The Lou began writing down the names as the other guys returned. “What’s going on?” asked one. “I’ll tell you what’s going on, your boss here won’t put my toilet back, so I’m going to file a complaint on all of you.”
The boys gave each other a look, “We’ll be with the truck Lou.” And poof they were gone. “I’m sorry you like that Mrs. Sthuck, my hands are tied on this it is a department policy. Is there anything else we can do for you before we leave?”
“If you aren’t putting the toilet back then it is time for you leave.” She kind of hissed this one. I was moving I didn’t need to hear or see any more of Mrs. Sthuck.
Sure enough she was good to her word and a few days later our district chief stopped by to discuss the call with us. The Lou explained it in detail and the chief took notes. None of us received any discipline over the matter but the department did pay the plumber’s charges.
Some days you are hero others you’re an ass.
I nailed it a good one and I could see the vibrations from the impact translated across her flesh like the ripples of a stone tossed in a lake. The giggling continued with every hit, it was annoying her giggling, just the squally tone and rise and fall of it like a roller coaster, grated on me.
I had to get the damn toilet off, sweat was now pouring from my forehead and getting in my eyes. My lieutenant asked if maybe one of the other guys should give it a shot. I said no as I once again moved her towel back into position and out of my face.
After too many delicate swings of the hammer I decided to whack the hell out of that damn bolt. It worked and the bolt went flying. “Got it.” I scrambled to my feet and helped the others pull the bowl.
Now you see firefighters have sneaky ways about them. My partners knew that once freed Mrs. Sthuck was freed, she going to have to be reexamined medically, and none of them wanted to do it. That meant ho ever carried the toilet away would be exempt from the task.
A slight tug of war over the prized piece of porcelain ensued, I lost and the two other firefighters got possession of the bowl. “We’ll just carry this to the garage Lou.” “Yeah.” Was all the Lou said. I turned to address Mrs. Sthuck.
“Okay Mrs. Sthuck let me check you out before you get to moving around too much.” The towel had to be reapplied again. “Are you hurting anywhere?” I asked. She gave kind of a whole body shrug in an attempt to elicit any pain. “Well my back hurts, but it always hurts, and my legs have the pins and needles thing going on.”
I did a quick head to toe survey and found nothing out of the ordinary. “Let’s see if you can stand.” The Lou and I got in position to assist her to her feet. Good thing she had mostly dried out by now and we hadn’t put any lube on her arms or torso.
“Okay you ready Mrs. Sthuck?” I asked, “Yeah I think so.” “On three” the Lou said. He counted down and with all our collective efforts we restored Mrs. Sthuck to her feet.
She stood there nude, her hands out to her sides’ palms open just getting a feel for standing again. I grabbed the towel and tried to cover her. The children cheered their mother’s rescue and they squeezed past me to hug their mother.
“Oh thank you guys so much.” “No problem mama, that’s what we do.” Said the Lou, “If you’re sure you are alright we will be getting back in service now. Have a better day.” Said the Lou.
“What about my toilet” she asked. “I’m sorry.” The Lou turned back to her. “You have to put my toilet back.” “Oh sorry Mrs. Sthuck but we can’t do that. You need to contact a plumber for that.” He smiled at her.
“You took it off, now put it back.” Her tone changed abruptly and took on a very nasty edge. “I’m sorry but there is a liability if we put it back, if it were to leak and damage your house the city would be liable, so you’ll need to get a plumber or maybe a friend could help.”
“So you are refusing to put it back?” she took an aggressive and naked stance, it was unnerving to say the least. “I’m not refusing I’m trying to explain to you how this needs to be taken care of.”
“What is your badge number?” she asked. “We don’t have badge numbers, but I can give you one of my cards.” The Lou dug in his pocket and retrieved one of his cards and offered it to her. “I need you to write down all of your names on the back.” “Okay.”
The Lou began writing down the names as the other guys returned. “What’s going on?” asked one. “I’ll tell you what’s going on, your boss here won’t put my toilet back, so I’m going to file a complaint on all of you.”
The boys gave each other a look, “We’ll be with the truck Lou.” And poof they were gone. “I’m sorry you like that Mrs. Sthuck, my hands are tied on this it is a department policy. Is there anything else we can do for you before we leave?”
“If you aren’t putting the toilet back then it is time for you leave.” She kind of hissed this one. I was moving I didn’t need to hear or see any more of Mrs. Sthuck.
Sure enough she was good to her word and a few days later our district chief stopped by to discuss the call with us. The Lou explained it in detail and the chief took notes. None of us received any discipline over the matter but the department did pay the plumber’s charges.
Some days you are hero others you’re an ass.
Bathroom Rescue cont.
The first impact was too soft, I was worried that some portion of her might get in the way so I went easy. She giggled more and her towel fell down obstructing my view, I reapplied the towel and lined up another shot.
I nailed it a good one and I could see the vibrations from the impact translated across her flesh like the ripples of a stone tossed in a lake. The giggling continued with every hit, it was annoying her giggling, just the squally tone and rise and fall of it like a roller coaster, grated on me.
I had to get the damn toilet off, sweat was now pouring from my forehead and getting in my eyes. My lieutenant asked if maybe one of the other guys should give it a shot. I said no as I once again moved her towel back into position and out of my face.
After too many delicate swings of the hammer I decided to whack the hell out of that damn bolt. It worked and the bolt went flying. “Got it.” I scrambled to my feet and helped the others pull the bowl.
Now you see firefighters have sneaky ways about them. My partners knew that once freed Mrs. Sthuck was freed, she going to have to be reexamined medically, and none of them wanted to do it. That meant ho ever carried the toilet away would be exempt from the task.
A slight tug of war over the prized piece of porcelain ensued, I lost and the two other firefighters got possession of the bowl. “We’ll just carry this to the garage Lou.” “Yeah.” Was all the Lou said. I turned to address Mrs. Sthuck.
“Okay Mrs. Sthuck let me check you out before you get to moving around too much.” The towel had to be reapplied again. “Are you hurting anywhere?” I asked. She gave kind of a whole body shrug in an attempt to elicit any pain. “Well my back hurts, but it always hurts, and my legs have the pins and needles thing going on.”
I did a quick head to toe survey and found nothing out of the ordinary. “Let’s see if you can stand.” The Lou and I got in position to assist her to her feet. Good thing she had mostly dried out by now and we hadn’t put any lube on her arms or torso.
“Okay you ready Mrs. Sthuck?” I asked, “Yeah I think so.” “On three” the Lou said. He counted down and with all our collective efforts we restored Mrs. Sthuck to her feet.
She stood there nude, her hands out to her sides’ palms open just getting a feel for standing again. I grabbed the towel and tried to cover her. The children cheered their mother’s rescue and they squeezed past me to hug their mother.
“Oh thank you guys so much.” “No problem mama, that’s what we do.” Said the Lou, “If you’re sure you are alright we will be getting back in service now. Have a better day.” Said the Lou.
“What about my toilet” she asked. “I’m sorry.” The Lou turned back to her. “You have to put my toilet back.” “Oh sorry Mrs. Sthuck but we can’t do that. You need to contact a plumber for that.” He smiled at her.
“You took it off, now put it back.” Her tone changed abruptly and took on a very nasty edge. “I’m sorry but there is a liability if we put it back, if it were to leak and damage your house the city would be liable, so you’ll need to get a plumber or maybe a friend could help.”
“So you are refusing to put it back?” she took an aggressive and naked stance, it was unnerving to say the least. “I’m not refusing I’m trying to explain to you how this needs to be taken care of.”
“What is your badge number?” she asked. “We don’t have badge numbers, but I can give you one of my cards.” The Lou dug in his pocket and retrieved one of his cards and offered it to her. “I need you to write down all of your names on the back.” “Okay.”
The Lou began writing down the names as the other guys returned. “What’s going on?” asked one. “I’ll tell you what’s going on, your boss here won’t put my toilet back, so I’m going to file a complaint on all of you.”
The boys gave each other a look, “We’ll be with the truck Lou.” And poof they were gone. “I’m sorry you like that Mrs. Sthuck, my hands are tied on this it is a department policy. Is there anything else we can do for you before we leave?”
“If you aren’t putting the toilet back then it is time for you leave.” She kind of hissed this one. I was moving I didn’t need to hear or see any more of Mrs. Sthuck.
Sure enough she was good to her word and a few days later our district chief stopped by to discuss the call with us. The Lou explained it in detail and the chief took notes. None of us received any discipline over the matter but the department did pay the plumber’s charges.
Some days you are hero others you’re an ass.
I nailed it a good one and I could see the vibrations from the impact translated across her flesh like the ripples of a stone tossed in a lake. The giggling continued with every hit, it was annoying her giggling, just the squally tone and rise and fall of it like a roller coaster, grated on me.
I had to get the damn toilet off, sweat was now pouring from my forehead and getting in my eyes. My lieutenant asked if maybe one of the other guys should give it a shot. I said no as I once again moved her towel back into position and out of my face.
After too many delicate swings of the hammer I decided to whack the hell out of that damn bolt. It worked and the bolt went flying. “Got it.” I scrambled to my feet and helped the others pull the bowl.
Now you see firefighters have sneaky ways about them. My partners knew that once freed Mrs. Sthuck was freed, she going to have to be reexamined medically, and none of them wanted to do it. That meant ho ever carried the toilet away would be exempt from the task.
A slight tug of war over the prized piece of porcelain ensued, I lost and the two other firefighters got possession of the bowl. “We’ll just carry this to the garage Lou.” “Yeah.” Was all the Lou said. I turned to address Mrs. Sthuck.
“Okay Mrs. Sthuck let me check you out before you get to moving around too much.” The towel had to be reapplied again. “Are you hurting anywhere?” I asked. She gave kind of a whole body shrug in an attempt to elicit any pain. “Well my back hurts, but it always hurts, and my legs have the pins and needles thing going on.”
I did a quick head to toe survey and found nothing out of the ordinary. “Let’s see if you can stand.” The Lou and I got in position to assist her to her feet. Good thing she had mostly dried out by now and we hadn’t put any lube on her arms or torso.
“Okay you ready Mrs. Sthuck?” I asked, “Yeah I think so.” “On three” the Lou said. He counted down and with all our collective efforts we restored Mrs. Sthuck to her feet.
She stood there nude, her hands out to her sides’ palms open just getting a feel for standing again. I grabbed the towel and tried to cover her. The children cheered their mother’s rescue and they squeezed past me to hug their mother.
“Oh thank you guys so much.” “No problem mama, that’s what we do.” Said the Lou, “If you’re sure you are alright we will be getting back in service now. Have a better day.” Said the Lou.
“What about my toilet” she asked. “I’m sorry.” The Lou turned back to her. “You have to put my toilet back.” “Oh sorry Mrs. Sthuck but we can’t do that. You need to contact a plumber for that.” He smiled at her.
“You took it off, now put it back.” Her tone changed abruptly and took on a very nasty edge. “I’m sorry but there is a liability if we put it back, if it were to leak and damage your house the city would be liable, so you’ll need to get a plumber or maybe a friend could help.”
“So you are refusing to put it back?” she took an aggressive and naked stance, it was unnerving to say the least. “I’m not refusing I’m trying to explain to you how this needs to be taken care of.”
“What is your badge number?” she asked. “We don’t have badge numbers, but I can give you one of my cards.” The Lou dug in his pocket and retrieved one of his cards and offered it to her. “I need you to write down all of your names on the back.” “Okay.”
The Lou began writing down the names as the other guys returned. “What’s going on?” asked one. “I’ll tell you what’s going on, your boss here won’t put my toilet back, so I’m going to file a complaint on all of you.”
The boys gave each other a look, “We’ll be with the truck Lou.” And poof they were gone. “I’m sorry you like that Mrs. Sthuck, my hands are tied on this it is a department policy. Is there anything else we can do for you before we leave?”
“If you aren’t putting the toilet back then it is time for you leave.” She kind of hissed this one. I was moving I didn’t need to hear or see any more of Mrs. Sthuck.
Sure enough she was good to her word and a few days later our district chief stopped by to discuss the call with us. The Lou explained it in detail and the chief took notes. None of us received any discipline over the matter but the department did pay the plumber’s charges.
Some days you are hero others you’re an ass.
February 16, 2012
Bathroom Rescue!
How about something funny today? Many times firefighters have to be problem solvers, and not problems of the mundane but extra ordinary problems.
The call came in early in the morning just at shift change. Shift change can be a confusing time for a job. Some people are getting off work, others are coming to work and a handing off of the metaphorical torch is in progress.
So a job right off the bat had a tendency to catch us unprepared, mentally unprepared I should say, for we are always at the ready. There is a difference between having the resources at the ready and having your mind at the ready.
The call was a rescue, a person trapped. Dispatch informed us that this call was initiated by children and that it was in reference to their mother being trapped in a bathroom.
As always my mind jumped to likely causes for the situation. I was drawing a pretty big blank on how a person could become trapped in a bathroom. I supposed the doorknob might have come off, that could happen.
I had seen a woman trapped in a bathroom by a teenage boy’s pet alligator once. The woman had taken a shower at her sister’s house, her nephew owned a small alligator maybe as big as a foot and a half or so, and he had been playing with the little guy prior to going to school. But had failed to return the tiny beast to his cage.
The ferocious little reptile had wandered down a hallway and decided to take a nap outside the bathroom door for some reason; I don’t know maybe it was attracted by the humidity of our victims shower. Anyway when she opened the door to exit the restroom she was confronted by the hissing and snapping creature, and totally freaked.
We arrived to find two women, one in a towel dripping wet, and the other with a broom and dust pan in hand trying to corral the alligator and he wasn’t having any of it. The little guy was very agitated and doing his best to defeat his much larger opponents.
My parents owned and operated a pet store most of my childhood so I was somewhat acquainted with most exotic pets and how to handle them. I excused myself, stepped around the alligator wrangler, and picked the gator up by the tail. By the reaction of the nearly nude woman you would have thought I had just carried her out of a fire.
Her towel dropped as she gave me a huge hug after I had caged the pet. Now firefighters in this kind of situation, a nude woman do have a chivalrous spirit, we averted our eyes while she retrieved her covering. We got cookies out of the deal and undying devotion.
The airbrake hissed as we stopped in front of the house, jolting me out of the memory. Two young children a boy and girl under ten each were waiting for us. “Help, mommy is stuck in the bathroom.”
We hurried into the house and down a hallway to the bathroom where we found Mrs. Sthuck, really. Mrs. Sthuck was a large woman and it seemed that while showering for work she had slipped in the soapy environment and tumbled out of through the curtain.
Her fall ended with her stuck tightly between the toilet bowl and tub. She looked kind of like risen dough. Her skin was pasty white and shinny from the water, and she was in real distress.
I introduced myself and first wanted to ascertain if she was physically injured from the fall had she struck her head or broken a limb, anything like that. The quick exam indicated she was for the most part uninjured.
She had a history of back injuries and her primary complaint was just that, her back hurt. Now we tried to determine a course of action. Being firefighters our first instinct was to just grab her and pull her out of there. She was soaped up and wet so we had a chance of slipping her out we thought.
No go, she screamed in pain and the attempt. Now what? The lieutenant suggested we try and lube her up with medical lube. That was our next unsuccessful plan, she wasn’t budging and now added a complaint that her legs were going numb.
I was concerned that given her history of back problems she might have some sort of spinal trauma. One of the other guys said “Let’s just pull the toilet and get it out of the way.” Great idea.
We gathered tools for the job all the while reassuring Mrs. Sthuck and her frightened children that it would be over soon. During the process Mrs. Sthuck modesty began to wan and she became uncovered frequently despite my efforts to continually cover her. I even added some large bath towels in an effort to preserve her dignity.
Now toilet bowels for the uninitiated are held in place by two simple bolts at their base. First you turn off the water, flush the remaining water down the drain, and bail out the water that is left.
The first bolt was no problem as it was plainly exposed. It took me a couple of whacks with a screwdriver and a hammer to knock it off. A strange phenomenon occurred during the removal of the bolts, Mrs. Sthuck began to giggle with each strike of the hammer and the towels again fell off.
As she couldn’t see us and neither could the children we all exchanged a curious glance. For the second bolt I had to lay on my belly in the cramped little bathroom, my knees against the wall across from the toilet, my feet in the air.
To gain access to the offending bolt Mrs. Sthuck flesh had to be held out of the way as I didn’t want to hit her with the tools. One firefighter had to position himself in the tub, lean over and roll her bulk out of the way. The other had to actually stand on the commode bend down and try and control more of her abundance, a difficult task as the medical lube although wiped off did leave a slippery surface.
My lieutenant asked if we were all ready and gave a countdown to the first hit. I don’t believe I have the skills to exactly explain my view at this point, but it might have resembled what the ring on a bakers hand sees as dough is formed.
I lined up the screwdriver.
Oh sorry here I am at 1000 words again, see you tomorrow.
The call came in early in the morning just at shift change. Shift change can be a confusing time for a job. Some people are getting off work, others are coming to work and a handing off of the metaphorical torch is in progress.
So a job right off the bat had a tendency to catch us unprepared, mentally unprepared I should say, for we are always at the ready. There is a difference between having the resources at the ready and having your mind at the ready.
The call was a rescue, a person trapped. Dispatch informed us that this call was initiated by children and that it was in reference to their mother being trapped in a bathroom.
As always my mind jumped to likely causes for the situation. I was drawing a pretty big blank on how a person could become trapped in a bathroom. I supposed the doorknob might have come off, that could happen.
I had seen a woman trapped in a bathroom by a teenage boy’s pet alligator once. The woman had taken a shower at her sister’s house, her nephew owned a small alligator maybe as big as a foot and a half or so, and he had been playing with the little guy prior to going to school. But had failed to return the tiny beast to his cage.
The ferocious little reptile had wandered down a hallway and decided to take a nap outside the bathroom door for some reason; I don’t know maybe it was attracted by the humidity of our victims shower. Anyway when she opened the door to exit the restroom she was confronted by the hissing and snapping creature, and totally freaked.
We arrived to find two women, one in a towel dripping wet, and the other with a broom and dust pan in hand trying to corral the alligator and he wasn’t having any of it. The little guy was very agitated and doing his best to defeat his much larger opponents.
My parents owned and operated a pet store most of my childhood so I was somewhat acquainted with most exotic pets and how to handle them. I excused myself, stepped around the alligator wrangler, and picked the gator up by the tail. By the reaction of the nearly nude woman you would have thought I had just carried her out of a fire.
Her towel dropped as she gave me a huge hug after I had caged the pet. Now firefighters in this kind of situation, a nude woman do have a chivalrous spirit, we averted our eyes while she retrieved her covering. We got cookies out of the deal and undying devotion.
The airbrake hissed as we stopped in front of the house, jolting me out of the memory. Two young children a boy and girl under ten each were waiting for us. “Help, mommy is stuck in the bathroom.”
We hurried into the house and down a hallway to the bathroom where we found Mrs. Sthuck, really. Mrs. Sthuck was a large woman and it seemed that while showering for work she had slipped in the soapy environment and tumbled out of through the curtain.
Her fall ended with her stuck tightly between the toilet bowl and tub. She looked kind of like risen dough. Her skin was pasty white and shinny from the water, and she was in real distress.
I introduced myself and first wanted to ascertain if she was physically injured from the fall had she struck her head or broken a limb, anything like that. The quick exam indicated she was for the most part uninjured.
She had a history of back injuries and her primary complaint was just that, her back hurt. Now we tried to determine a course of action. Being firefighters our first instinct was to just grab her and pull her out of there. She was soaped up and wet so we had a chance of slipping her out we thought.
No go, she screamed in pain and the attempt. Now what? The lieutenant suggested we try and lube her up with medical lube. That was our next unsuccessful plan, she wasn’t budging and now added a complaint that her legs were going numb.
I was concerned that given her history of back problems she might have some sort of spinal trauma. One of the other guys said “Let’s just pull the toilet and get it out of the way.” Great idea.
We gathered tools for the job all the while reassuring Mrs. Sthuck and her frightened children that it would be over soon. During the process Mrs. Sthuck modesty began to wan and she became uncovered frequently despite my efforts to continually cover her. I even added some large bath towels in an effort to preserve her dignity.
Now toilet bowels for the uninitiated are held in place by two simple bolts at their base. First you turn off the water, flush the remaining water down the drain, and bail out the water that is left.
The first bolt was no problem as it was plainly exposed. It took me a couple of whacks with a screwdriver and a hammer to knock it off. A strange phenomenon occurred during the removal of the bolts, Mrs. Sthuck began to giggle with each strike of the hammer and the towels again fell off.
As she couldn’t see us and neither could the children we all exchanged a curious glance. For the second bolt I had to lay on my belly in the cramped little bathroom, my knees against the wall across from the toilet, my feet in the air.
To gain access to the offending bolt Mrs. Sthuck flesh had to be held out of the way as I didn’t want to hit her with the tools. One firefighter had to position himself in the tub, lean over and roll her bulk out of the way. The other had to actually stand on the commode bend down and try and control more of her abundance, a difficult task as the medical lube although wiped off did leave a slippery surface.
My lieutenant asked if we were all ready and gave a countdown to the first hit. I don’t believe I have the skills to exactly explain my view at this point, but it might have resembled what the ring on a bakers hand sees as dough is formed.
I lined up the screwdriver.
Oh sorry here I am at 1000 words again, see you tomorrow.
