These were some of my first fire calls after I joined the Lee Vining Volunteer Fire Department. Some names may be changed.
Wednesday, March 20, 1996, 10:30 pm
It was after a big meal at a birthday party at Angel's Restaurant. I was relaxing at home, reading and almost falling asleep, but deciding to stay awake to finish the book I was reading, when the siren went off. I put my shoes, hat, and glasses on, and ran into the garage, untangled my bike, and rode out. Geoff sped by, and I heard Stewart taking the other street. Geoff and I arrived at the fire hall at the same time, and we put our turnout gear on. One of the nice things about a small town is that bicycling can be as fast or faster than driving. Geoff started the suburban, and we drove across the street to Murphy's with Cedar. The other nice thing about a small town is the quick response times, especially when the call is right across the street. Others arrived (Stewart, Matt) and we carried our gear upstairs to the room where a German tourist was having chest pain.
He was lying in bed, 29 years old, with his friend sitting nearby, and other people (motel proprietors) around. I carried up a medical bag while Cedar talked to him and gave him oxygen, and Geoff filled out a form on the clipboard. I practiced taking his blood pressure and pulse, and was trying to count his respirations when the medics arrived from June Lake. They treated him, got an I.V. going, and preparations were made to transport him.
Meanwhile, while we were standing around waiting, I knocked over a beer bottle next to the TV. Matt joked about me bringing beer on a call and being "four-eyes" with my glasses on.
Finally the patient was ready to go, and we carried him in a stair chair down the steep narrow stairway, strapped him to a gurney, and loaded him into the ambulance. We refilled the oxygen bottle and went home.
The following call was another one with an "oops".
Monday April 1, 1996, Afternoon
It was raining. Geoff, Laura, and I ran over from work when the siren went off. I missed a boot, and we drove across the street to Murphy's. I had a boot on one foot and a sock on the other. We went inside, gave oxygen to a woman who was having pain in her back, shoulder, and arm, and waited for the medics. I got ribbed for forgetting my boot. I held the I.V. while we were inside and as we went outside to the ambulance. After we got back to the barn, others told a story about a guy who responded to a call wearing one of his wife's pink slippers.
Saturday, August 31, 2019
Tuesday, August 20, 2019
LVVFD Calls: My first fire call
I finally let my EMT certification expire last year after 20 years. In honor of that, and my 15 years on the Lee Vining Volunteer Fire Department (1995-2011), I'm going to blog about some old fire calls. Being on a volunteer fire department was one of the most rewarding things I've ever done--I highly recommend it if you ever get the chance. I wanted to write a book, but someone already wrote an excellent book that a few of us passed around when it came out (Population 485: Meeting Your Neighbors One Siren at a Time). Some names may be changed.
December 27, 1995, just after 4pm
I was sleeping. I was tired after walking in the snow down to Mono Lake with my sister, and we had just finished lunch and the woodstove had made it pretty warm inside the Mono Lake Committee intern house.
The siren had reached its peak by the time I roused myself and got moving. I grabbed my jacket and put on my shoes, and went into the garage to get my bike. By now the siren was wailing for a second time, and it was quiet when I got out the door and rode up the driveway. I rode into the fire station just as Stewart was firing up the number 3 "squad" fire truck. He was the only one there. I leaned my bike against the wall, walked over to Stewart, and yelled "what's up?" over the roar of the engine.
He asked if I saw anyone else coming, and I said no. He yelled to me to get my turnouts on. I ran over to the wall where the turnouts were hung, took off my jacket and shoes, and put on my boots and pants. I grabbed my jacket and helmet and went over to the passenger side of the truck. By now Grif had arrived, and asked Stewart if he knew how to pump water with this truck. Stewart replied no. They grabbed their turnouts, Grif drove, and I was in the middle.
Grif had our lights flashing as we headed north out of Lee Vining on Highway 395. Whenever he came up behind a car, he gave the siren a short wail. We were providing assistance to Mineral County, Nevada, on a car fire 9 miles into Nevada on Highway 167. Apparently one other firefighter had already headed out ahead of us in his own car.
Stewart solemnly said, "I hope we don't have any crispy critters. I don't need to see any more of those." It seemed slightly morbid, and at the same time slightly funny. But more morbid than funny. I later learned that Lee Vining Fire had recently lost one of its own in a car fire on Highway 120 East.
Grif used the radio to ask that we be notified if we weren't needed, since it was such a long drive. The firefighter ahead of us also said he'd let us know once he got there.
Once we reached Highway 167, the dispatcher told us to cancel our response. We turned around, and wondered why we were called, since we were just as far (if not slightly farther) than Hawthorne, Nevada. They must have been short-staffed too.
Grif talked about other car fires, and about how fast they happen and how if you aren't near a town, your car will probably be totaled. I resolved to buy a fire extinguisher for my car. It would suck to be trapped in a car and be burned alive, but with a fire extinguisher you could at least keep yourself and the inside of the car from burning.
We got back to the station, and Grif showed Stewart how to pump from that truck. Stewart told me about the last car fire they had--a firefighter died when his van burned up. I returned home, and was glad that I had joined the fire department, since it looked like I was needed. Only four people showed up. And this was the only day this week that I was going to be home.
December 27, 1995, just after 4pm
I was sleeping. I was tired after walking in the snow down to Mono Lake with my sister, and we had just finished lunch and the woodstove had made it pretty warm inside the Mono Lake Committee intern house.
The siren had reached its peak by the time I roused myself and got moving. I grabbed my jacket and put on my shoes, and went into the garage to get my bike. By now the siren was wailing for a second time, and it was quiet when I got out the door and rode up the driveway. I rode into the fire station just as Stewart was firing up the number 3 "squad" fire truck. He was the only one there. I leaned my bike against the wall, walked over to Stewart, and yelled "what's up?" over the roar of the engine.
He asked if I saw anyone else coming, and I said no. He yelled to me to get my turnouts on. I ran over to the wall where the turnouts were hung, took off my jacket and shoes, and put on my boots and pants. I grabbed my jacket and helmet and went over to the passenger side of the truck. By now Grif had arrived, and asked Stewart if he knew how to pump water with this truck. Stewart replied no. They grabbed their turnouts, Grif drove, and I was in the middle.
Grif had our lights flashing as we headed north out of Lee Vining on Highway 395. Whenever he came up behind a car, he gave the siren a short wail. We were providing assistance to Mineral County, Nevada, on a car fire 9 miles into Nevada on Highway 167. Apparently one other firefighter had already headed out ahead of us in his own car.
Stewart solemnly said, "I hope we don't have any crispy critters. I don't need to see any more of those." It seemed slightly morbid, and at the same time slightly funny. But more morbid than funny. I later learned that Lee Vining Fire had recently lost one of its own in a car fire on Highway 120 East.
Grif used the radio to ask that we be notified if we weren't needed, since it was such a long drive. The firefighter ahead of us also said he'd let us know once he got there.
Once we reached Highway 167, the dispatcher told us to cancel our response. We turned around, and wondered why we were called, since we were just as far (if not slightly farther) than Hawthorne, Nevada. They must have been short-staffed too.
Grif talked about other car fires, and about how fast they happen and how if you aren't near a town, your car will probably be totaled. I resolved to buy a fire extinguisher for my car. It would suck to be trapped in a car and be burned alive, but with a fire extinguisher you could at least keep yourself and the inside of the car from burning.
We got back to the station, and Grif showed Stewart how to pump from that truck. Stewart told me about the last car fire they had--a firefighter died when his van burned up. I returned home, and was glad that I had joined the fire department, since it looked like I was needed. Only four people showed up. And this was the only day this week that I was going to be home.
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