Remembering a face in the crowd

As I walked out of Golden Gate Park today I heard the sirens and saw two firetrucks pass by. I was concentrating on crossing the street and didn't notice which way they went. I was still a couple of blocks from home. Just because of the way the traffic lights worked, I walked north and then west, which is about 50 yards longer than walking west and then north. Close enough to be called a tie, really.

As I turned onto Cabrillo street I saw those fire engines and an ambulance in front of my neighbor's house. I don't know what happened, but the front door was opened and rescue workers were streaming in and out of the house. I kept going, not wanting to be a ghoul. The ambulance drove by my house as I put the garbage cans out, but the firetrucks stayed behind.

It's now an hour later, I can see one of the trucks  through the yards when I'm on the back deck. I am sitting in my dining room and I can hear the radio on the firetruck. If I decided to listen closely I would probably hear exactly what happened. Really, for all the talk, we have no privacy at all.

Seeing all that brought me back to Valentine's morning when we had the same three trucks and an ambulance in front of our house. Of course it was 3:30 am, so not too may people were walking by, but I'm sure they could all hear everything on the radio if they chose to. It doesn't matter, but it makes me wonder.

So many things stick out about that day. So many painful images. The obvious ones need not be discussed, but one less obvious one came right back to me as I saw the paramedics climb into that ambulance today. I remembered the paramedic's face. It was as clear as day.

Maggie had been "down" for a long time. Too long. They were about to give up when they finally got a pulse; but we knew the damage had been done. And the paramedics knew too. They transported Maggie to the hospital where the staff worked on her feverishly for 30 minutes or so in the ER and then immediately transferred Maggie upstairs to the Pediatric ICU. There were so many people in that ER room. Several doctors and nurses from the ER and from the PICU as well as the firemen and paramedics who were still doing paperwork.

As we walked behind Maggie and the  numerous caregivers surrounding her now moving gurney, I caught the eye of one of the paramedics. He was sitting in a little alcove finishing his paperwork. He was probably the same age as one of my sons. He looked so sad and so defeated. He looked at me and I quietly said "thank you for all your hard work" and he just put his lips together tightly and nodded. We both knew what was going to happen and we gave each other just an acknowledgement of respect.

I think of that guy often and find myself looking at paramedics closely to see if it's him. I did that today as this moment was replaying in my head. If I did see him, I would probably say nothing because it would be too weird, but I would want to tell him what a huge difference he made to us.

Without his efforts - and those of his fellow firefighters - we would have lost Maggie that morning. Instead, we got another 40 hours. They weren't easy hours, but they were important. We spent that time laughing and crying and preparing ourselves. Without that time, we wouldn't have been able to gather our family. Eddie never would have had time to get here from Orange County nor would Tim have been able to come from his house across the park.  We wouldn't have been able to share our memories. We wouldn't have been able to say goodbye.

It's no wonder I can still see his face so clearly. He was an important person in my life.

I hope all is well with my neighbors.

911. What's your emergency?

Let me start this by saying Maggie is fine.

But we had a helluva afternoon. I think it is safe to say that the boredom of mom camp was shattered.

Yes that is a picture of the San Francisco Fire Department in my dining room looking at Maggie’s medical background for their paperwork.

Maggie was home with the nurse and I was running errands like a crazy woman, trying to get back in time for her next procedure. I knew I was going to be late, but she is ok for another 30 minutes or so and I just had to get some groceries. I was standing in line to pay when my phone rang and it was Maggie’s nurse, Fely. I answered and without waiting for her to speak said, “I’m almost done and I’ll be home in 20 minutes.” She said, Sally, something is wrong. Maggie is very upset and she is turning blue. WHAT!?!? Is she ok? She is now, but she is crying uncontorllably. Is she blue now? No. The trach was plugged and I cleared it.  I am giving her oxygen. Ok. 

Lest you think I'm inattentive, this does happen with Maggie. It's never good, but once it's over it's over. Still I wanted to get home to see for myself. 

Of course it took FOREVER to get checked out and for the first time in about 1 year I was shopping at a different store, not my neighborhood Safeway. I was at least 15 minutes from home but I had to get out of the store. As I loaded the groceries into the car Fely called again. She sounded more worried. I said, “I’m coming now. DO you need 911?” She said no. She was giving Maggie O2 but she seemed to be in pain.

I drove as safely as I could while fighting panic. Tim was at work in Marin. I called my neighbor who is an RN to see if she could pop in and do an assessment. No answer. I called Steve to see if he was almost home. He was still in his office. He said he would leave right away, but I know I would get home before he did.

When I arrived, Maggie was in distress. Fely was giving o2 and her respiratory numbers were fine – but her heart rate was in the stratosphere.  I made sure the trach was clear. I was perplexed, for sure and said, let’s get her in bed. As I tried to get her out of the chair, I saw it. Her foot was completely wedged in behind the foot box on her wheelchair.  I could not move her and I could not free her foot.

I grabbed the tools and tried to loosen the box but I was fumbling around like an idiot. I finally found the right sized wrench but I couldn’t budge the bolts.  I was freaking out. I needed help and I called 911.

In a way, this is like a normal kid problem, right. Granted, it involved a wheelchair, but she needed to be freed. She could have been up a tree or locked in a closet or something like that, right? This could happen to anyone, right?   As I kept giving information to the 911 dispatcher, I realized maybe it wasn’t so normal. 

“San Francisco 911 what’s your emergency”

My daughter has her foot wedged in behind a piece of her wheelchair and I cannot free it.

Is she injured?

She is definitely in pain, but I can’t tell if it’s injured or broken or just stuck (note – I was not calm)

How old is your daughter? 18.

How did she get her foot in there?

 I don’t know?  She has CP and gets herself into some strange positions, I have never seen her foot back there before.

Oh. I see. What does she say happened? Can she tell you how she did it?

No. She’s non verbal.

Oh. I see. How long has she been stuck?

At least 25 minutes I’m trying to get the foot box off, but I’m not strong enough to move it (shrieking a bit)

Ok ma’am. Take a breath. [When he said that I realized I hadn’t taken a breath in several sentences] The Fire Department and paramedics are en route.

It took about 4 minutes. That is a very quick response, but it is a very long time to wait.  I did have the presence of mind to put the dog outside so he didn’t bother the firemen when they arrived and to call Steve and tell him what was happening. I did not want him to have a heart attack when he saw the Fire trucks and paramedics in front of the house.

First came the firemen – about 5 of them. They surrounded Maggie. I couldn’t even get into Maggie room. I heard a “crack” and knew the chair was broken. I  Did Not Care.  More rescuers arrived.  They just kept coming. There were at least 10 guys in my house. The firemen left when the paramedics took over. We were down to five guys and then three. At some point Steve arrived too. The paramedics  determined her foot was bruised, but likely not broken. They were concerned about Maggie’s breathing and I assured them her weird breathing was her norm. When she started grinning at the firemen and doing her own version of flirting, I knew she was really ok. She pretty much owned every guy in the room.  She was stressed, but fine.

 I was just stressed.

A huge thank you to the very kind firefighters, emt’s and paramedics and everyone else who was here. We 

do not need help very often, but we did today. It is sure nice to know help is there when we need it. 

San Francisco's Bravest

About four years ago we had to call 911 twice in a period of two or three weeks. It was not too long after Maggie got her trach and things were terrible. I was working frantically to get Maggie to breathe and Steve just dialed three little numbers. In a matter of minutes a truckload of firemen arrived followed closely by the paramedics. Both times Maggie was taken to by ambulance and admitted to the hospital and both times she recovered. That recovery is in large part thanks to the assistance of the San Francisco Fire Department.

It is a source of some pride to me that with all the medical emergencies we have dealt with that we have only had to call for help twice. It is also a source of great relief to me that the excellent help was so readily available. Those professionals took care of Maggie and they took care of me too. (see Maggie World: Memorable Statue).   Happily we have not needed them since, but I have rested a little easier knowing they are there if we do.

The San Francisco Fire Department, probably like fire departments all over the country, seems to be made up of men and women that you want to hang out with. They are real life heroes who just go about their business and seem to have fun in the process. They wave at kids while on their way to put out fires and respond to every possible emergency in all parts of the city.  They're as cool as cool can be. Really, who doesn't love a firefighter?

A few years ago a friend was awakened by a firefighter banging on the door telling her to get out of her apartment as the building was on fire. As she stood outside on the street in the early morning hours, she asked a firefighter if he would get her pet rabbit to safety. He went right in and pulled the frightened but unharmed bunny out, cage and all.  How sweet is that. 

In another case I witnessed a traffic accident. A little girl and her mom were in a car that was hit by a red light runner. The car was messed up and could not be driven. As the paramedics tended to (the slightly) injured in the other car, a fire fighter went to the little girls wrecked car, pulled out a wrapped birthday present, put her on the fire truck and drove her to her friend's birthday party. They turned a scary situation around for her and I'm sure she was the talk of the party when she arrived in a fire truck. 

 This week another family had to call for help as their house suddenly caught fire. The family escaped as the fire truck arrived. Without hesitation the firefighters rushed in to do their job. Two of them didn't come out. For the first time since 1946, two San Francisco Firefighters were killed in a fire. The fire department and the entire city is bereft. 

My heartfelt condolences go out to the families of  Lt. Perez and Firefighter/paramedic Valerio, and to all members of the San Francisco Fire Department. We take you all for granted far too often. I thank you for all that you do every day. 

I also feel badly for the family who called for help that day. These men were doing their job protecting that family and paid the ultimate sacrifice. I cannot imagine what they must be feeling.  But I think we all know that it could have been any of us calling for help and they would have come. 

 Because that is what they do.