Six weeks of core strengthening, dieting, glucosamine and endurance training have led me to this:

“You’re all done.”

“Done, you say? Never!”

Two doctors, my primary physician and the orthopedic specialist have essentially ended my career as a Rescue Lieutenant. But, I ask, “have you seen these abs?”

I’ll be back on the truck, I swear.

Light duty starts Monday, 0700 hrs. I can hardly wait.

“What happened to you?” I asked as I applied pressure to the  open wound on his forehead.

“Some guys stole my money and shoes,” he replied, wincing when I poured peroxide onto a fresh 4×4 and put it over the dry dressing.

“Stupid bastard, that’s what you get,” said my Lieutenant, standing close by, arms crossed, mad at the world. I had been working at Engine 2 for a month or so, still only six months on the job. I  had started to get the hang of things, eager to do the job, junior man and all. The other guys had two years experience-real seasoned firefighters- and were only too happy to stand aside and let the new guy handle the menial chores, like bandaging up a young, shoeless white guy from the suburbs who had been robbed in broad daylight.

The patient had been knocked senseless, which wasn’t a long journey from his normal state, and began to wobble where he stood. I took his arm and walked him over to the side step of the engine and sat him down. The crowd that had formed became bored with the show, four white guys in uniforms tending to another white guy stripped of his shoes and bleeding nothing to get excited about.

Tires squealed in the distance, an engine roared toward us. The sound of firecrackers filled the crisp air, cracking. I stood from my task and stepped away from the truck to see what all the commotion was about. Kids ducked in doorways and ducked behind cars, or climbed fences and made themselves disappear. My patient rolled off the side step and went under the truck. A big dummy new firefighter stood alone in the street, looking for the firecrackers.

A car full of people sped toward us. I stood my ground, confused. Something grabbed the back of my shirt and dragged me toward the truck as the car sped past, guns blazing. I don’t think they were shooting at us, but they certainly didn’t care if we were in the way.

The car sped away, the people came out of hiding and my Lieutenant dusted me off.

I duck when I hear firecrackers now, especially when they are preceded by squealing tires.

http://www.projo.com/news/content/DELACRUZ_MURDER_12-26-09_24GTONG_v10.37d3265.html

Some, not all have been given a gift worth much more than anything that comes from a store. I am one of those fortunates. Without asking, wishing for or even realizing I had it until well into my adulthood the ability to work as a firefighter/EMT was bestowed upon me. This was the first gift, the next came with a little work. I had to put those gifts into action, first by learning, then by finding a place to put this gift to use. Fortunately for me, that place is The Providence Fire Department.

Through all the contractual squabbles, petty rivalries between firefighters and rescue people and relentless calls, I can’t think of anything I would rather have. Friendships with hundreds of people have been made possible because of this gift, doctors, nurses, patients, security, cops, teachers…the list is long. A whole world is open to me because of what I do. Who I am opens that world even further, and who I am is a direct result of the gift that was given to me.

People I don’t know call 911 and wait, their anxiety high, fear, uncertainty and despair wait for me to show up. That I can respond, and alleviate some of that is truly a miracle, one I don’t take lightly. It is something worth remembering during the toughest shifts. However bad we have it, the people on the other end of the phone usually have it worse. And I help them. For that opportunity I am thankful.

This is the season for giving. For all the giving I do, I honestly believe  I have received far more. So thank you, and Merry Christmas to you all!

The snow thrower was dead, that much is certain. That the snow thrower was dead is vitally important to the story I’m about to tell. The Christmas Crippler had stung New England, dumping twenty inches of spirit deadening snow on everything. The weight of the new snow hung especially heavy on Michaemorser Scrooge.

“Humbug,” he said pulling the cord over and over, knowing no life would come to the wretched machine, but pulling nonetheless. In an effort to save a nickel he had used last years lawn mower gas, too cheap to support the economy and those so desperately in need by buying some fresh gas. He gave one more might tug to no avail, kicked the lifeless beast and headed toward the garage. As the door lowered, a vision appeared.

“Michaelmorserscroooge!” the haunting apparition wailed as the snow continued to rise.

Scrooge jumped back, shocked to see the ghost of his past reflected in the garage door glass.

“What do you want,” snapped Scrooge at himself.

“To warn yoooo,” said the ghost, his voice nearly lost in the freezing wind, “to tell you to quit being such a cheapskate and spend some moneeey…”

Scrooge dismissed the ghost. “Humbug,” he said, and retreated to the warmth of the house, immediately going to the thermostat and turning the heat down.

“Oh, Michaelmorser,”said Mrs. Scrooge, wrapped in a tattered quilt, three generations old. “It’s Christmastime,  can’t we keep it on 60 degrees, just this once?”

“Are we the Rockefellers?” asked Scrooge, pulling an old blanket around his shoulders.

“No, we’re the Morse’s,” said the Mrs. ,and turned the heat up.

Michaelmorser headed back into the cold, and felt the comfort of the freezing wind chill his cheap old bones.  He kicked the snowthrower, pulled the cord once again, listened to it sputter and die and picked up a shovel.

He bent to his task, a blinding light filled his vision as he lifted the first shovelful of snow. He fell onto his back, writhing in pain, arms and legs flailing. Slowly the pain subsided, and he stood. He threw the shovel into the blizzard, and hung his head in despair.

A tiny snowflake caught his eye, and he followed it until it came to rest, right where he fell. There, the outline of a snow angel lie, still, serene and quiet. Michaelmorser looked at the angel and hope filled his empty soul.

“They did it in one hour!” he exclaimed to the falling snow. A boy walked by, carrying a shovel.

“Boy,” said Scrooge. “What day is this?”

“Why, it’s Saturday,” said the boy.

“A remarkable boy, an intelligent boy,” said Michaelmorser.

“Do you know the gas can, the one in your garage?”

“The one as big as me?”

“A delightful boy! Yes, that one, get it and bring it to me and I’ll give you a quarter. Do it now and I’ll give you half a dollar!”

The boy disappeared, into his home to play x-box.

Michaelmorser Scrooge spent the next hour cleaning his gas line to his snowthrower, and putting some fresh gasoline into it.

It started on the first pull.

Old Scrooge kept his promise, and never used old fuel again.

And a Merry Christmas to you all!

“

Using the latest infra-red night scope luminating polysaturated heat sensing photography I was able to capture the elusive Grinch as he pilfered the ornaments, candy canes and trinkets from my tree. I chased him up the chimney and into the night. I have no idea where he went to.

We’ve got a blizzard brewing, The Christmas Crippler is roaring toward New England.

Come home Mr. Grinch. At least until the storm passes.

http://johninconditionyellow.blogspot.com/

John Higgs worked with the publisher of Rescuing Providence for a time, and edited an article I wrote for the Paladin book, The Paladin Book of Dangerously Fun Things.

http://www.paladin-press.com/product/1050/New_ID_and_Personal_Freedom

I just spent some time reading his blog, I think some of you will love it, (AD and TOTWTYTR.) I know I enjoy it.

Although I’m not always physically there, I never truly leave Providence. My family began there, generations ago. I see the skyline when I walk the shore near my home. I get my pizza (Pizza Pier) on Wickenden Street and enjoy breakfast there (Brickway) as well. I’ve stood for hours in front of Picasso’s masterpieces at the Rhode Island School of Design Art Museum, and walked the same streets as Edgar Allen Poe while contemplating my place on this earth. H.P. Lovecraft’s ghost joined me on some of these walks down Benefit street, I swear.

Roger Williams founded this place hundreds of years ago, searching for a place free of religious persecution. I’ve spent time relaxing in the park that bears his name. Last night I attended A Christmas Carol at Trinity. Twelve of us enjoyed the show, friends and family taking two rows of the theater,  strangers filling the rest. The ambiance and the humanity one experiences when in the company of other, like minded people is contagious, and Peace on Earth seemed a possibility, for a short time, anyway. Strangers and family came together, captivated by the performers, filling the building with hope and good cheer.

Outside, the Providence that has become waited.

Yesterday, three cops were shot and wounded during a drug bust, shot by a reputed drug dealer in the West End with a 9 mm. Today, a sixteen year old succumbed to gunshot wounds he got at  a birthday party Sunday Night. Yesterday another sixteen year old from the South Side was riddled with bullets. A few driveby’s, stabbings and beatings never made the headlines, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t happen, there just wasn’t room for the stories, or, more likely, nobody cares.

Between the murders, MVA’s, suicides and accidents, the body count since I injured my back is in the double digits. I know it’s my job, and I’m truly grateful to have it, but it’s nice to spend time on the other side for a while. I stay in contact with a few people from the job. I’m sure they are not aware of it, just like I wasn’t a few months ago, but the tension in their voices, and cynicism in their words is disheartening.

Sorry to anybody left who has kept up with my postings for sounding like a broken record, but I’m shocked at the difference I feel from then to now. What worries me, is now is about to happen, and I’m not sure if I’m ready, or more accurately, willing.

http://newsblog.projo.com/#541309

http://www.projo.com/news/content/cops_shot_16_12-16-09_BAGQ93Q_v62.3b3eb53.html

http://newsblog.projo.com/2009/12/two-women-and-two-dogs-rescued.html

Another great job by the PFD.  To bad four more have to join me on the injured reserve list.

Well done  folks, now I can’t wait to get back!

http://www.projo.com/news/content/downtown_shootings_follow_12-08-09_OUGNGVT_v11.38aa387.html

Ryan stopped by yesterday, filled me in on some of what I’ve been missing (not) during my convalescence. I’ve got a couple of weeks of peace and quiet left before getting back into the thick of things. While my back has been healing, a lot of healing has happened in the old noggin as well. It is impossible to respond to call after call without some mental damage.

Teresa from Rescue 5 called last week. Among other things she mentioned a woman who jumped to her death at the major shopping mall. Another went the day after she called and a third two days ago. Seems the mall is a good a place as any to end it. Three suicides, one mall. The bodies splattered all over the parking garage.

Serenity now, for me anyway. Stay safe, and sane everybody.

Patient: I’ve waited weeks to see you, I’m hoping you can fix my back.

Doctor (Surgeon actually): Let’s look at the films.

The doctor takes the MRI films from the manila envelope and places them onto the white viewing board. He doesn’t miss a beat.

Doctor: This is your spine. These are your vertebrae. This is your spinal fluid. These white areas are healthy discs. These black areas are unhealthy discs. You have zero healthy discs in your entire lumbar spine.

Patient: That can’t be good.

Doctor: It’s not the end of the world. Pain management, core strengthening and therapy you’ll be all right.

Patient: Will it return to normal?

Doctor: Normal for an eighty-year old.

Patient: What do you suggest?

Doctor: You’re not a candidate for surgical repair, too much damage, I can’t repair the entire lumbar spine. Live your life, live with the pain and get on with things.

Patient: Great.

There you have it. Three more weeks of  “core strengthening” and back on the old horse. Not the answers I had hoped for.