"Not the Gait Belt!'

WARNING! The following contains ADULT firefighter content. Do not read if you do not have a sense of humor.

The following is an explanation to the department medical supply staff wanting to know the Engine and Station number of where they were sending the gait belt and how the Gait belt was damaged.

TONES!!! Engine 73, Medic 7 respond to "666 Anywhere Street" (a.k.a. drug alley)for an unconscious 35 year old female in the bath tub. Aroused from a "Power nap" I lope to the engine and fire up "Big Red" and with the boys on board skillfully like an INDY driver respond with lights and sirens to the location. Well as you can imagine my mind pictures a 35year old fit female in the tub and I say to myself that I might need to protect this young lady from the young boys but then when the short report comes in over the radio that the patient has overdosed on Methadone I picture a gaunt, toothless female with track marks along the femoral artery and so my mind shifts gears and I think, " I may need to protect the boys from the female".
As we arrive and grab our kits we rush in and meet a late 50's male at the door telling us the female is his sons girlfriend but the son is in treatment (your kidding) and he does not know her well and not sure if she overdosed. (Uh Ha) Well we barge into the bathroom prepared to save a life, but to our horror she was not a 110 gaunt recovering heroin addict, but a 450lb.(+) heroin addict soaking wet with only a long T-shirt on! At that time I tell the Captain we must have the wrong address and so we both went back outside to check the number on the front and to our horror,it was the RIGHT address. Running back in I look and see probationary firefighter Tonga standing there with kits in hand asking,"What do you want me to do Keith?" I yell drop the kits, jump in the tub, grab a leg and Pullll. With the Captain on the torso, Tonga on the legs and me grabbing an arm and yelling, Pull...Pull...Pulll I realized it was fruitless and so told the Captain we needed to enlist the "Gait Belt" and he concurred. So out came the 60" strap which Tonga then wrapped around the torso and on the count of three with two men on the gait belt and Tonga on the legs we pulled in unison and was able to get her to the cornice of the tubs edge. With the Captain and I high fiving to our success our celebration was cut short as we saw her start to roll off the edge of the tub towards the unsuspecting Tonga. I yelled at the Rookie to run but if you get caught under the patient just start to swim, and if buried form an "air pocket" and we'll get you out as soon as we can! With Tonga's life in peril the Captain and I like two linebackers hit her upper body spinning her in such a way as to deflect the weight so that the Rook's life was spared. Now with our unconscious, slow breathing patient on the floor we had to move her to the living room so we could have some "working space". Dragging wet flesh on linoleum takes a Herculean effort but when we hit the carpet, Oh My Gosh! I NOW have empathy for the slaves moving the Egyptian pyramid blocks. Needless to say by the time we hit the middle of the living room the three of us were exhausted to the point that when the medics arrived and entered the room there were four bodies laying on the floor. Assuming the patient was the one without a badge, the Medics yelled the battle cry "Kurrahee" stirring us into what I can only describe as a super human effort to perform and tackled the challenge of saving another human life. Now with her T- shirt all a tussle I grabbed EMS scissors yelling at Tonga to get ready to hook up the Life pack 12 (LP-12)patches to her chest once exposed. Cutting like a beaver through a birch tree I started at the bottom heading for the neck. At the point where I was cutting over the breasts and through the "Got milk" logo on the T-shirt I suddenly hit a harder pliable substance. To my horror, for the fourth time, I froze and started to look for blood gushing because I thought for sure I had buzzed into the left breast.
Quickly yelling for an "Asherman Chest seal" STAT! to plug the open chest wound I pulled back the T-shirt and realized the material I cut was not soft tissue but the "Gait Belt". Yahoo.... wait a minute.....Ohhh Nooo... my mind being at ease was short lived as I now pictured "Commandant Kingpen" in charge of department medical acquisitions yelling at me and threatening the firing squad for destroying Fire Department Property. So as you can see it was under maximum stress I entered the request and as such forgot my apparatus and station number.
Sorry
Firefighter Kepler.

PS. The Young Lady Lived...