Front Row View

On November 21, 1980, I was a sophomore in high school and a group of us ditched school at lunchtime to check out the fire at the MGM hotel on the Las Vegas strip. At that time, Flamingo Road didn’t go both ways over the I-15 freeway; you could only exit going south on I-15 to east on Flamingo. We made it to the top of the exit ramp and got stopped in traffic with an excellent view of the hotel from our elevated position. We stayed there watching it in real time with the radio giving updates as the event progressed. We were far enough away to be spared the true horror of the event unfolding but close enough to grasp the magnitude and significance of the day. That day over 85 people lost their lives in a horrific way. If you had told me on that day that seven years later I would be one of those brave firefighters who worked tirelessly to save as many of them as they could, I would have told you, you were crazy!

My path to firefighting wasn’t due to planning, wanting it since I could crawl, or because of history or duty. It was destiny. I fell into a career that forever changed who I am today and one I am honored to have served. I saw many tragedies over my years but nothing that ever came close to that day in 1980 and I am thankful I never did. But for those I did see, I’d like to think I was in the right place at the right time with the right knowledge to make it a little bit better for those who called.

One thing you always see on TV is people coming back to thank the firefighters for what they did. It only happened once in my career. While I appreciated the acknowledgment, it was uncomfortable. I wasn’t in the career to get kudos; I was in it to help and that kind of accolade always made me feel awkward. However, there were some calls I wondered if I really did make a difference.

Once I was called to a woman who had been raped. I was one of the first on scene and the only woman amongst the police and fire department response. I remember sitting on the curb with her after checking her vitals and waiting for transport. She was telling me she felt responsible for what happened. I wanted to let her know she wasn’t and I was telling her so. I could see myself in her, an average girl, out for an evening just wanting to have a good time when this assault happened. It could have been any of us… I remember her 30 years later and wonder if the words I spoke to her made a difference in starting her healing process.

Over the years, I have seen over a thousand deaths and I made it my responsibility to be the person who gave the notifications to surviving kin on scene. I would have my crew prepare the body for a love one to say their goodbyes before the police and coroner got there. To see a husband or wife of 50+ years have that moment was an honor. I had to stay in the room with them because we had to maintain custody but that bit of humanity I hope helped in their grief process.
The saddest were the babies and children. One I went on was a SIDS death. As we entered the house, the mother literally threw the baby into my arms in hysterics yelling, “Save my baby!” As I laid the baby down and we started our assessment, it was obvious there was nothing for us to do. I asked the mother if she would like to hold the baby while we waited for the coroner. I was holding it together pretty good until she looked up at me and said, “My baby needs a blanket. She’s getting cold.” We wrapped the baby into the blanket and for the next ten minutes she said goodbye before the harsh realities following death came to her door.

I didn’t know in 1980 that I would be seeing the horror and sadness of life with a front row view. I didn’t know what it meant to be a part of some of the worse days of people’s lives. What I like to think is because of my destiny of becoming a firefighter I made a few of those days a little more tolerable, comfortable or healing for those I helped. I know it changed my destiny and if I had to do it all over again, I would. When you get that close to the horror that life can deliver, you start to appreciate it even more. All of those people and many more still travel with me as a part of who I am and I really hope I made a small difference because they made a huge difference in me. It was an honor and privilege to have served not only their wounds but their hearts as well and I hope I did both of them justice…

This article originally appeared in the Spring 2019 issue of CHOICES Magazine