Inferno on the Interstate

     A fellow firefighter once told me that every first responder will always remember his/her top three calls that profoundly affected the psyche.  I am going to extend that sentiment to say that all human beings on Earth retain a similar number of events that will shape not only their personality, but also the way they move through life.  These events may have been buried in the subconsciousness as a protective mechanism, or forcibly as a way to hide the ugly truth.  At some point in our existence these truths will come back to bite us in the (you know where) . . .    

     The problem is that as a society, we have been conditioned to keep these experiences to ourselves and not talk about them, because to do so would be seen as a sign of weakness or defect.  I have said this before and it bears repeating: conversations about behavioral health need to become the norm instead of the exception to the rule. I truly believe in my heart that the more you tell your story the easier it becomes, and given time it will help to heal the wounds of the human experience. That being said, I present you with the number three event that I will always, always, remember. . . The inferno on the interstate.

     On a cool morning in May of 1997 at approximately 0100 hours (1 a.m.), we received the call for a vehicle accident with possible entrapment on a major interstate that passes through town.  Our department responded with an ambulance (myself and two other medics), and two engines carrying four other personnel between the two of them.  As the ambulance pulled up to the scene, I saw two firefighters putting a “knock on the fire” which left a huge, thick, white cloud of smoke that covered all three lanes on our side of the tollway.  It was upon closer examination that we realized the horror that this fire left in its wake.

     Shortly after extinguishment, a State Trooper related a witness account of this accident:  the damaged vehicle in question was traveling northbound in the southbound lanes of the highway when it struck a retaining wall and suddenly burst into flames.  The witness further recounted hearing several screaming voices coming from this huge fireball on the roadway, and then an immediate silence.  I remember running towards the car and looking inside to find three bodies, charred beyond recognition.  The first body (driver), was propelled through the windshield as it was obvious he had not worn a seatbelt.  The next thing I saw were two smaller bodies (also not restrained) stacked one on top of the other, and wedged in the space between the driver and front passenger’s seats. It was patently obvious to me that they were children. The events of the following three hours are what left a lasting impression on my psyche.

     The pieces of the puzzle were quickly put together by the State Police who discovered that the driver was involved in a hit and run accident in a town several miles from our deadly scene.  Witnesses of that incident stated that the driver had just left a bowling alley with his girlfriend’s two children (5 and 7 respectively), and while leaving the premises, struck another parked car and then fled the scene. By all accounts, he was driving under the influence of alcohol at that particular time.  As I learned of this, I became enraged at the fact that two innocent lives were lost because of an irresponsible adult charged with their care.  “He got what he deserved!!” I thought, as I kicked his car several times before walking away.  However, I still had a job to do and pressed on.

 

     Once an obvious death is confirmed, as a paramedics, we are responsible for getting an official pronouncement of time of said death(s).  This has never been an easy task for me because I have to relate the circumstances to a medical control nurse or doctor who then gives me a recorded time as well as a log number.  I remember becoming emotionally overwhelmed when I spoke with a nurse on the radio, who told me she was very sorry that I (we) had to see this.  This incident was concluded when private ambulances arrived to transport the bodies to the Medical Examiner’s Office.  As we reverently removed each corpse I felt sickened, guilty, and helpless that I could not do more to save their lives. I was only 2 ½ years into my career.

     These days I no longer carry the resentment for that male driver who cut short not only his life, but the lives of two others who were just beginning.  Now I can only wonder what those children would be doing at the ages of 23 and 25.  Sharing this story with you, my readers, extends the healing that I experience as I continue on my road to recovery from post-traumatic stress.  I encourage all of you to unburden yourselves of your top three as well.  In the previous posts titled One Cold and Lonely Night and A Florian Life, I shared my number one and number two in that order.  At the end of the day, as Bruce Hornsby put it: The Show Goes On.

In Health and Wellness,

 

Tim