One Cold and Lonely NIght

Over the next several posts we will be discussing a topic that is near and dear to me: stress. We will explore the signs and symptoms, it's link to chronic disease/illness, and self-care strategies that can be used to assist us in leading a more balanced life.

The other day I was watching the CBS television drama Blue Bloods, whose plot revolved around Detective Danny Reagan searching high and low on the streets of New York to find an Afghanistan war veteran who was suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Needless to say the story ended with this individual committing suicide because he could no longer cope with the hallucinations and anger outbursts commonly associated with this disorder.

PTSD affects not only war veterans, but also firefighters police officers, and the general public at large. Anything can trigger PTSD: a death of a loved one, being a victim of or witnessing a violent crime, or even a traumatic brain injury. Our discussion is going to begin with me relating a story about a call that I responded to as a firefighter nearly 16 years ago. In future posts I will talk about how this incident affected me personally, how I coped with it, as well as relate the signs and symptoms of posttraumatic stress disorder.

Sixteen years ago on a cold, damp, February night, my outlook on life changed forever.  The alarm sounded at 1940 hours (7:40 p.m.) for a vehicle that had exploded.  My assignment for the day was to drive the fire engine to the scene and make sure that water was put on the fire.  My heart began to race as I thought, “This is going to be a bad one.”  Upon arrival, the Lieutenant, I, and another firefighter could see a column of heavy black smoke rising (as black as the sky) from the rear of an apartment building parking lot.  The Lieutenant and other firefighter (nicknamed Ski) pulled the hose line off of the engine and disappeared behind the building into the night.  Suddenly, I heard my Lieutenant shout in a booming voice, “Get us water quick!!!”  Within a few minutes the fire was extinguished and the job complete, or so I thought.  The next thing I knew, an ambulance that also responded, pulled out from behind the building.  I peered through the window and saw three medics treating a charred, lifeless body that was pulled from a pickup truck that had exploded.  My Lieutenant, who was driving the ambulance, never looked my way as he sped off to the hospital.  I thought this to be odd behavior as the “Lou” always gave us additional instructions. 

     While I was picking up equipment, Ski emerged from behind the building and said in a soft voice, “It was Little Dicky.”  Tears began to stream down my face as I collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.  You see, Little Dicky, a fellow firefighter I worked with for the last three years, just committed suicide.  It was determined that he poured gasoline over himself and ignited it with a lighter.  One month prior, Little Dicky made an attempt to end his life, only this time he was successful.  After that night, I realized that we are put on this Earth for a very short time and it should be our life’s mission to leave the world a little better off than we found it. Therefore, I developed a personal mantra that I try to live by each day which is: “Every morning I wake up and realize that there are many people in this world who want to be somebody.  I, on the other hand, want to be somebody who makes a difference.”