From several fire and rescue sites I read:
> AMBULANCE DRIVER SENTENCED FOR FATAL CRASH - IOWA
Now, I have a lot of problems with this one. The driver was ‘transporting a critically ill patient’ when he hit the back of a tractor-trailer, a livestock trailer not that it makes a difference. The trucker was preparing to make a left turn and had moved partly into the left lane (not sure why he did that, but not knowing the road or the turn reserve judgment on him for it), apparently saw the rig coming up behind him and moved back to the right (again not sure why). The speeding ambulance hit the back of his trailer. An ambulance technician (presumably in the back) and the patient were killed, the driver and another technician were injured. The driver was sentenced to 10 days in jail for each of two traffic citations from the crash: failure to use caution by the driver of an emergency vehicle; passing too near an intersection; this sentence was suspended and he was put on probation for one year, and fined $200. The attorney for the ambulance company stated that this sentence will ‘have a chilling effect on how ambulance drivers do their jobs’.
Oh, ps, one of the investigating officers said that the driver should have been charged with vehicular homicide, that he was going 90 mph before the crash and only partially applied the brakes as he approached the truck, making his speed about 58 mph when he hit it.
Here’s my problems with this one, folks: first and foremost, 90 mph? Really? I know the roads in Iowa are often flat and straight for miles, but 90 mph, when you see a vehicle ahead of you? YOU NEVER KNOW what a vehicle is going to do when the driver sees the lights coming up behind it. How many of us have had them stop right in front of us? Yup, thought so. Next, not applying brakes to get to a reasonable speed to compensate for what the other driver might do. Never Assume!
My other problems are with the court system. I know, many will think I should be defending the ambulance driver, but, can’t find it in me to do that. Bottom line, he killed two people. The law did not allow him to be charged with a felony, hence the lesser charges. Maybe it will be enough for him to know that he did this, but then again…. Why would he have had to show ‘a higher amount of recklessness’ – isn’t driving 90 mph (and yes, I’ve done it myself on a hot call) and not using caution around another vehicle reckless enough?
The driver and his attorney say the sentence will affect how other drivers do their job – that they will be ‘second guessing themselves’. Well, if it makes them second guess to use more caution, hip, hip, hooray! My take on it is that it may make them think they can be as reckless as they want and they’ll get off with a slap on the wrist if anything happens. Maybe I’m looking from the wrong angle, but I see it potentially making them more careless.
Oh, and of course the families of the fatalities and the surviving two people in the ambulance are all suing the truck driver and company, who are in turn suing the ambulance company and the driver. Who wins? The lawyers, as ever.
Here’s what I think: that the ambulance company, and every one across the country, should hold regular emergency vehicle safety courses, to remind their drivers that getting behind the wheel and putting on the lights and siren do not make they and their crew and patients invincible. C’mon guys, we are the ones who get called to help – riding with us shouldn’t put people at more risk than the problem they called us for does!
In two other states, firefighters are fighting for their lives following accidents which happened while they were responding to alarms. In Pennsylvania, a young husband and wife are both in critical condition. In North Carolina, a 17-year-old went off the road and flipped his truck 5 times, he’s also critical. In both cases, members of their own departments discovered the accidents and then had to work rescue for their fellow volunteers. Without knowing details (not in the stories I saw), I’ll guess that both were caused by the same thing: driving above what the existing conditions called for. I’ve done it, we’ve all done it, raced to quarters or to a scene, adrenaline pumping, thinking ahead of what might need to be done when you get there, you lose track of what’s happening in front of, around and underneath your own vehicle. If you’re lucky, it doesn’t matter, you make it ok and go to work. If you’re not, you end up being part of the problem, instead of contributing to the solution. Not only do you need help, but you take it away from the ones who originally needed it.
> UPDATE: PA. HUSBAND & WIFE FIREFIGHTERS CRITICAL AFTER RESPONDING CRASH
> FIREFIGHTER (Age 17) CRITICAL (IN A COMA) AFTER CRASHING LAST NIGHT WHILE RESPONDING TO A FIRE CALL
Bottom line – remember you’re not helping if you’re being pulled from the twisted wreckage of your responding vehicle. You’re a victim. You’re using manpower that should be working on the original call.
Let’s all be MORE careful out there. And let’s say whatever kind of prayer to whoever you say it to for the well-being of not only these folks, but all of those out there doing these jobs.
> The headlines are from the items on the sites EMS Close Calls and Firefighter Close Calls, if you want to see more on these stories.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Christmas Eve and the bad peanuts
Last Christmas I wrote a lot of the memories I have from over the years, and mentioned the year that my father got the ‘bad peanuts’, so here’s that story:
My father worked for a fuel oil company, and he was one of, if not the first of their people they sent to ‘burner school’ to learn how to repair furnaces. That was quite an event of itself, and perhaps worth another story.
Anyway, he would always be the one on duty on holidays; I think he volunteered for it, saying that the other guys should be home with their families. We thought nothing of it, it was what he did, never mind that he also had a family to be home with. It wasn’t unusual for him to be home late because he was on a service call, or to have to get up from a meal, or milking the cows, to go restore someone’s heat. Also, he wasn’t the sort to ‘stop for a cold one’ on the way home, although now and then it did happen.
This one year, I don’t remember how old I was, maybe 10 or so, Christmas Eve he was on call, and wasn’t home when it was time to start milking, so my mother and sister and I went out to do it. We expected him to get home at any time. We were almost to the far end of the barn and the last few cows when one of his co-workers came in, and walked up the row to where my mother was, holding a set of keys in his hand and just saying ‘Now it wasn’t Eddie’s fault’ over and over again. My mother of course immediately thought the worst, that he’d been in an accident, but some how it got conveyed that this wasn’t the case.
The case was that they’d stopped at the bar for a Christmas drink. That led to one more, and then one more because of course everyone had to buy a round – or more. Speed’s, I think the name of the place was, not that it matters or that I remember right, on Lower Warren Street in Hudson.
By the time they got done, none of them was in any kind of shape to drive, but the other guys decided that my father was the worst, and had the furthest to drive, so they’d better take him home. Which they did, one driving the service truck, and one driving his car.
Their plan was that the one whose car they brought would take the service calls for that night, but just take his tools in the car, not the truck.
So the friend telling my mother ‘it wasn’t Eddie’s fault’ was saying that it wasn’t his fault he got toasted.
While he was doing this, the other guys were getting my father out of the car, and starting to help him to the house. In the midst of this, one of them noticed something not quite right at the front of the car – that being smoke coming from under the hood. He opened it and there was less right, including flames in the engine! They immediately abandoned my father, and started hollering for water.
I don’t know why I wasn’t still in the barn, but I was in or near the house when several of them came piling in looking for water, and something to carry it to the car in. I grabbed some pots from the cupboard and we started a ‘pot brigade’ to the car - and carrying open pots of water across the snowy path was no small feat for those guys at that point in time, let me tell you! I think that one or more of them were still outside, throwing snow on the fire, and between all the efforts the fire got put out quickly.
My father, meanwhile, had made it to the porch, heard the commotion, turned around and saw the flames (hanging on to the porch post for balance help) and said ‘Well, that’s a hell of a note’ and went on into the house and collapsed on the couch.
The guys got the fire out, piled into the car, with promises that they’d cover the service calls, and left. The next morning the car owner came back to retrieve his tool box, which he’d grabbed out of the car when the fire was going on. Good thing nobody’s furnace broke down that night!
My father said he wasn’t drunk. He’d been eating the peanuts on the bar and some of them must have been bad, that was what made him not feel well. For a long time that was the catch phrase for over-indulging in spirits in our family.
Enjoy your Christmas, and if you’re out celebrating, look out for the bad peanuts.
Merry Christmas.
My father worked for a fuel oil company, and he was one of, if not the first of their people they sent to ‘burner school’ to learn how to repair furnaces. That was quite an event of itself, and perhaps worth another story.
Anyway, he would always be the one on duty on holidays; I think he volunteered for it, saying that the other guys should be home with their families. We thought nothing of it, it was what he did, never mind that he also had a family to be home with. It wasn’t unusual for him to be home late because he was on a service call, or to have to get up from a meal, or milking the cows, to go restore someone’s heat. Also, he wasn’t the sort to ‘stop for a cold one’ on the way home, although now and then it did happen.
This one year, I don’t remember how old I was, maybe 10 or so, Christmas Eve he was on call, and wasn’t home when it was time to start milking, so my mother and sister and I went out to do it. We expected him to get home at any time. We were almost to the far end of the barn and the last few cows when one of his co-workers came in, and walked up the row to where my mother was, holding a set of keys in his hand and just saying ‘Now it wasn’t Eddie’s fault’ over and over again. My mother of course immediately thought the worst, that he’d been in an accident, but some how it got conveyed that this wasn’t the case.
The case was that they’d stopped at the bar for a Christmas drink. That led to one more, and then one more because of course everyone had to buy a round – or more. Speed’s, I think the name of the place was, not that it matters or that I remember right, on Lower Warren Street in Hudson.
By the time they got done, none of them was in any kind of shape to drive, but the other guys decided that my father was the worst, and had the furthest to drive, so they’d better take him home. Which they did, one driving the service truck, and one driving his car.
Their plan was that the one whose car they brought would take the service calls for that night, but just take his tools in the car, not the truck.
So the friend telling my mother ‘it wasn’t Eddie’s fault’ was saying that it wasn’t his fault he got toasted.
While he was doing this, the other guys were getting my father out of the car, and starting to help him to the house. In the midst of this, one of them noticed something not quite right at the front of the car – that being smoke coming from under the hood. He opened it and there was less right, including flames in the engine! They immediately abandoned my father, and started hollering for water.
I don’t know why I wasn’t still in the barn, but I was in or near the house when several of them came piling in looking for water, and something to carry it to the car in. I grabbed some pots from the cupboard and we started a ‘pot brigade’ to the car - and carrying open pots of water across the snowy path was no small feat for those guys at that point in time, let me tell you! I think that one or more of them were still outside, throwing snow on the fire, and between all the efforts the fire got put out quickly.
My father, meanwhile, had made it to the porch, heard the commotion, turned around and saw the flames (hanging on to the porch post for balance help) and said ‘Well, that’s a hell of a note’ and went on into the house and collapsed on the couch.
The guys got the fire out, piled into the car, with promises that they’d cover the service calls, and left. The next morning the car owner came back to retrieve his tool box, which he’d grabbed out of the car when the fire was going on. Good thing nobody’s furnace broke down that night!
My father said he wasn’t drunk. He’d been eating the peanuts on the bar and some of them must have been bad, that was what made him not feel well. For a long time that was the catch phrase for over-indulging in spirits in our family.
Enjoy your Christmas, and if you’re out celebrating, look out for the bad peanuts.
Merry Christmas.
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