The Fear of Mortality: A Fireman's Experience.

As a fireman, I see death on a regular basis. I don't experience this any more than say a nurse or emergency room doctor, but in some cases it is so very raw from my vantage point. I am sensitive to this. Without a doubt I keenly observe someone's actions when they are about to embark on this ethereal, yet frightening, experience that we must all face at some point in our time. It makes me weep. I feel for some of these people. The most notable images that stand out in my mind are the elderly, as they generally have this long drawn out ordeal that they unfortunately are well aware of.

When we ran nursing homes as a fire department on a more regular basis (the majority of these calls were cut out of our response directives due to budget savings being that there are qualified medical professionals in these facilities) I ran into this all too often, and honestly I do not know how nurses work in that environment. The look in someone's eyes when they are suffocating from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease day in and day out is a look that it is very horrible when they gaze upon you, clenching your arm for help. I once walked in to a room where some nurses were suctioning out a guys lungs. Just from old age, his lungs were not functioning properly, he was probably in his 80's. God, I still remember his cries and his attempts to pull the suction tube out of his throat, but myself and another nurse held his arms down. He squirmed uncomfortably as the tears rolled down his cheeks. I tried not to look at him directly, but I kept feeling him stare at me with those glassy eyes of sadness... I eventually looked at him. We met eyes.. I stared back into his soul and he saw the anguish in my eyes as I turned the corner of my mouth up to let him know I understood his pain. Fuck, how could I? For a moment, he stopped moving, relaxing momentarily as he starred back at me. The sounds of the fluid being sucked out of his lungs and the nurse talking some gibberish to my Captain faded away and I felt like I connected with this guy for that brief time. I would like to think so. He smelled horrible, blended with the smell of a nursing home-- the piss, shit and bleach... fuck, he probably couldn't smell any of that anymore. I would dry heave every fuckin time I would go in to these places. I hope he is dead now, in a better place... wherever that is. He didn't deserve that bullshit. Nobody does. Every day of his life was a "Hey you son of a bitch, here is some pain before you die."

There was this lady who would always roll her wheelchair through the halls or into a room of another resident/patient when we were there to do whatever. Amongst the screams and yelling in the halls, she was always clutching a Minnie Mouse stuffed animal toy. Here she was, in her late 60's probably, in bad health, left to die in a nursing home. I would always talk to her when I visited. Her children rarely visited her. She was all alone. All she had was that Minnie Mouse toy and her television. She would tear up when I would tell her hello, I never knew what to do. I guess I could have gone to see her on my days off from work, but I simply could not bear to be around that environment any more than those brief moments when we would get called over there. Selfish? Yeah, absolutely.

Her friend on one particular day was one of our patients. I can't remember what was wrong with her, but she was in a lot of pain and we were helping the paramedics get her on the stretcher to transport her to the hospital. She had a stuffed animal toy dog in her bed. I placed it on her chest when she was on the stretcher and she clutched it in her arms like a child. The paramedic looked at me like I was stupid, but I looked back at him ready for him to say anything to me. He didn't, but I can't understand how some people forget that these people are living a pretty shitty life. A stuffed animal might be the only comfort they have, and fuck it, they deserve a young 29 year old fireman to take the 3 seconds to give them that...

I mention both of those ladies, because I find it peculiar on how people will revert to childlike ways when everything is stripped away from them. When I say everything, I don't mean houses, money and cars. I am talking about life. When your life is slipping through your fingers like water, no matter how tightly you clinch your fist-- people will become like children. It is as if that loss of all control to natures inevitable forces, causes them to surrender all that they believed who they were. I have seen it in every person that I have seen die, or about die. That fear, that reaction to death, is honestly something that I think a lot of people do not ever realize until it happens to them. Perhaps, very few are prepared for it... if you can even prepare for it at all. It has certainly changed how I look at people. Even those whom believe they are tough and ready for the worse. They are not.

I was with a younger lady when she took her last breaths from a motor vehicle accident. She was only conscious very briefly before her body shut her brain down to try and stay alive. Her eyes darted frantically for some type of clarity on the situation, as she looked to me and another fireman as we raced to put oxygen on her. She held her hands up as if she had no idea what to do. Her eyes said it all, "I have no idea how to make this different." I didn't say a word to her, we just tried to get to work to hopefully make the situation better. Sometimes, we can't do enough.

If you could imagine the very worst mistake you have ever made-- and that feeling you have when you have made that mistake-- and you know that there is nothing that you can do to reverse the mistake that you have made. Do you understand that sensation I am talking about? I interpret that is what the young lady was feeling on the asphalt. Except, it was her life, and she knew it.

I once had an older fella tell me to throw him in the river and get it over with. Life was bad for him. He was done with trying to beat his disease. If you would had let him, he would have taken his life, I am sure of it.

I... I could go on... There is no point I guess to mention any more examples, but believe me they are there. I think about them from time to time. Usually when I am tired, frustrated with life, and ready to give up doing what society expects of me. I think about all of these people and their deaths. What did any of it matter? What does any of it matter presently?

One of the most peculiar things about getting off of work from the fire station, is the drive home. Watching everyone frantically get to their jobs, get their kids to school, or whatever. I always feel in a state of slow motion. As if death and suffering were these ghostly ethereal beings floating around everyone but everybody is too preoccupied to notice. Sometimes that transition from work to your "day off" is impossible to create. I would talk about bad calls in the beginning with family members or my girlfriend, because you're "supposed to talk about it." That isn't real life. You start to bring people down with you if you shared with them what goes on at work and how you feel about it. It doesn't work. That is just what they tell you, because simply, people will not get it. They are just stories. They weren't there and they'll never, ever understand.

That is unfortunately how it is. We all die. However, some of it is certainly worse for others. I am not sure how I view the fact that I was with someone in their last moments. That is something very personal, something very special in a way. Some of these people made bad choices, sure, some didn't-- it was the cards they were given in this life. Either way, it was personal. That is not to be taken lightly. I hope in some way, I can learn from these people. I hate being a fireman because it is a goddamn reminder of the fragile nature of life. However, I sincerely hope I made that "life to death" transition easier for some. Whether it was by holding their hand through the process or giving them hope that I was going to save them when I could not... I hope they are all in a much, much better place.