1, 2, 3, 4, 5

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I remember a time when I was young; a time when I was just starting out in the fire service. I was one of the first female high school students to go through Fire Fighter 1, 2 and Emergency Medical Technician training as a fast track into the paid fire service. More than being eager to put my training to work, I wanted to prove that women could do anything a man could. I was going to go out and save the world. It was a Saturday in the spring. The birds were singing it and was the first real nice day since the winter. The dogwoods and cherry blossoms were blooming and all was right with the world.

I was in the rec room playing pool with Richard and beating him for once. While the others; Tom, Jock, Colin, Virgil and chief were watching a Redskins game on TV. The skins were having a great game and were pounding Dallas into the ground. Like I said, all was right with the world.

The tone-out goes off. First the high tone followed by the low tone. I can still here the tone out call today. Followed by the Klaxon... It was an ambulance call. Yee Haw!!!!! Now I'll show them that can be every bit as good as a one of the paid men. Virgil, Richard and I race down to the ambulance to take the call. Virgil as the driver, Richard as one EMT and I as the other. The ride was different as it seemed that we traveled in slow motion. It felt like it was taking hours to get there instead of the five minutes of real time. I remember being excited, more excited than my first date, or even the prom.

We stopped in front of a nice house; you know the type where they all look alike and you could walk in one and go to the next and the layout is the same. I grab the trauma kit while Richard grabbed the back board. We knew that we had a head trauma on our hands and with head injury you need to stabile the head and neck in case of any spinal trauma. The man wearing clothes that had the feel of a suit but without the jacket and tie came around the side of the house. Yelling, "Back here...he's back here." We run.

My god it's a child! A young boy of 8 or nine. He's lying on the ground, on his back, not moving, smelling of excrement. "Oh god he's dead," I think to myself, I'm frozen, I can't move. Richard runs past me bumping me and setting me in motion once more. We set down to work, no reparation, no pulse. CPR, we need to do CPR.

I start the chest compressions. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5," Richard blows. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5," Richard blows. Over and over counting as I press on his chest. I feel and hear the ribs cracking from the pressure. Virgil standing next to me saying something I can't hear. My mind is filled with counting "1, 2, 3, 4, 5," over and over. Finally I make out what he's saying. We need to get him to the hospital. I can't stop! I have to keep his heart beating they work around me. I look up and we are in the ambiance. I'm stunned, how did we get here?

Counting always counting. The sirens screaming like a banshee, Virgil driving like a NASCAR pro weaving in and out of traffic. Being thrown about the back still counting "1, 2, 3, 4, 5..." My arms are on fire. I look at Richard, he shakes his head. Nooooo! I will not let the angel of darkness take him. Over and over "1, 2, 3, 4, 5."

Hospital! At last! They can fix, the docs can fix, I will fix. I'm straddling the gurney on top is the child and looking as if we are having some type of bizarre intercourse. My voice is almost gone counting, "1, 2, 3, 4, 5," over and over. My arms hurt like no pain I have ever had before. They wheel me/ us into the ER and a nurse takes over for Richard. Doctors come and suddenly there are 10 or twelve people around me, crash cart comes up. I'm still counting "1, 2, 3, 4, 5,' still doing compressions.

I hear a voice say, 'Trade, I got him." I lean back and fall off gurney and onto the floor covered in sweat, arms trembling. Totally wasted, mind locked in the counting sequence. They zap him. Again they zap him. Each time yelling clear, each time his body arcs in a form that isn't natural. The smell of burning flesh emulating from him.

"Epinephrine," the doctor calls out. A nurse hands him a syringe that has a needle about 4 inches long and so big that you could roll a BB though. He takes it and stabs downward like he is trying to kill a vampire. Into the boy's chest in goes. They shock him a few more times. No good, it didn't work. He's dead. They cover him with a sheet with shaking heads. "Oh God why?" my mind wails.

We return to the station in silence. We get back and go to the rec room. The others are still there watching the game. Richard goes to the table and picks up a cue stick acting as if nothing happened. Virgil goes and gets a coke and asks, "Whose winning?"

I stand at the door looking mind not working right and thinking, "Here we lost a child, a little boy, and not one of you bastards care". They all stop turn and stare at me. Oh god I said it out loud. I turn and walk to the bunk room.

The chief finds me there staring at the ceiling in my bunk. How could they not care? We are supposed to save lives. That's why I joined to save lives not to lose them. He says "Karen you can't save all of them. You try, but you will lose. You have to move forward and not look back. Never look back." He told me that If I didn't keep it impersonal then I would lose my mind. He added that you could not allow yourself to get drawn into the person that you had to keep your distance.

I've learned a lot since that day. I've learned to never let yourself become involved. Keep a part of you in reserve. Because when you don't follow those two rules, the nightmares never go away. Even after 30 years the nightmares remain.