Bobby loves the kids.

Ever since I can remember, I have always loved children. I love making them laugh, seeing them smile, playing games with them. I love how they don't judge, and I love their innocence. As a father of 5 wonderful children. I am truly blessed. This love for children is a curse when it comes to being a firefighter and a paramedic.

I feel like God has shielded me from making too many serious EMS calls involving children. With each call you make, you gain confidence, knowledge, and become just a little more callous. I can see blood and guts. Dead mangled bodies don't bother me at all. Unless they are children.

Last winter, (yes it's been over a year since I can talk about it, and share this story. Even now, I am fighting back tears), our engine and medic unit were first in to a house fire. We could see the flames that were about 2 miles away as soon as we pulled out of the station. The scene was utter chaos. Flames were reaching out from every home orifice. People were yelling and screaming that there were 3 children trapped inside. Men were grabbing at the engine crew telling them to hurry. There were locked burglar bars on every door and window. Adrenaline pumping, our Captain ripped the bars on the back door off with his bare hands! Our engine crew entered the blaze to extinguish the flames and me and my partner "caught the plug"(hooked up to the hydrant). Just as soon as we opened the hydrant, our Chief began yelling at us that a victim had been pulled out. We ran with the stretcher to find our Captain holding a toddler, and a bystander trying to take him from our Captain. The child wasn't breathing. We started CPR and began "working him" in the back of our ambulance. I prayed God would give me the strength, and I prayed for a miracle.

Two men, probably emotional family members, jumped in the back of our ambulance and began yelling at us and grabbing at the child. We threw them out and locked the doors. We then heard all of the fire trucks on scene sound their horns, which is a call to immediately evacuate the building because it is no longer safe. I began praying that our crew would make it out. We could hear on the radio that our engine was still unaccounted for and wasn't answering their radios. Worry for my brothers set in. As we started an IV and intubated the boy, we heard gunshots just outside the ambulance. Bystanders had gotten into an argument with camera crews and shots were fired. Like I said, chaos. I looked to make sure the doors were still locked. After the shots someone was banging on our back door. Scared to open it, I peek out the window and see firefighters with another toddler victim. Our engine crew wasn't responding to the call to evacuate because they had found another victim, this little boy.

We opened the door and now have two children in cardiac arrest. Undoubtedly the little boys were overcome with smoke and heat. I can still remember how hot their bodies felt. Almost too hot to touch. I remember talking to myself to stay calm and to just do what I've been trained to do. I fought back tears the whole way to the hospital. Four of us tended to the boys and one firefighter drove like a bat out of hell to the hospital. I prayed and prayed for a miracle. We did everything by the book. Our training did kick in. I have an amazing partner who also kept his composure in this worst of situations. In spite of all we did right, the miracle never came. In spite of our best effort and unending prayers, the boys were pronounced dead at the ER.

The third child, the boys older sister, did make it out, but her feet were badly burned. We were later told, the fire started in the kitchen after food was left unattended on the stove. The adults had left the children asleep and home alone.

After we cleaned up and finished our record. I looked at my partner and asked if he was all right. I asked if he was ready to go back in service. He was visibly shaken, as was I. I hit the button and went back in service. I have found, that after the toughest of calls, the best thing to do is get back on that horse.

As soon as I got off in the morning, I headed straight to church. It was Sunday, and I had to preach. I hadn't slept at all, and I was numb to the world. Some how, some way, God gave me the strength to deliver the sermon. I am reminded of 1 Corinthians 9:16 "Yet when I preach the gospel, I cannot boast, for I am compelled to preach. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel!"

That was my new goal that morning to preach Christ crucified, buried, and risen. Life goes on, as hard as it may be. It does with or without us. I don't know where I would be without my faith in Christ. I'm amazed how His Holy Spirit can give us strength. So many verses come to mind. Incidents like this one always make me realize how important and fragile life is. They help me cherish my wife and children. They teach me to be dependent on God for my strength, joy, and peace.

Live to Tell the Story

Almost a year ago, we made a routine call just a few blocks from our station. An elderly lady had a near syncopal episode(almost passed out). After evaluating her, we began to make small talk with the family who was grateful for our presence. Then the daughter of the elderly lady began to talk to us about her son who recently drowned while wade fishing. She had asked if we saw the story on the news. The story that followed had us scratching our heads and wondering if all of the events as told by her were true and possible. Here are some news links to the story of Terrell and Damien: http://abclocal.go.com/ktrk/story?section=news/local&id=7061389 http://www.hcnonline.com/articles/2009/10/19//fort_bend_sun/news/sws_-_equasearch_1013.txt

The mother says that the week before her son was tragically taken, she felt like he was acting strange. She says that he was extremely affectionate toward her, hugging her, telling her, "I love you, mom," and caressing her arm. She says that one night she woke up frightened as he was in the room just staring at her. She asked him what was wrong and he of course said, "nothing." Terrell was considering making a career move and becoming a mortician. She thought this odd, but Terrell said he was not scared of death or the dead. She said that the night before the trip, Terrell had a dream that he was surrounded by caskets and snakes. She said he wasn't sure of the meaning of the dream, but that he tried his best to put it behind him.

Terrell was excited about going fishing with his uncle who is a cop, and his cousins. That evening before they left, he had a talk with all of his family about some of the bad choices they had been making and that it was time to "get right with God." They had all been raised in church and that night prayed for forgiveness and made a commitment to live for Christ. On the way out the door, Terrell grabbed an extra bullet proof vest his uncle had. His mom asked why he needed it, and he said in a joking manner, "Someone's gotta live to tell the story."

When they got to the coast, they were approached by some men dressed in nice clothes like they were "going out." It was obvious that they were not there to fish. The men asked if they had caught anything. As Terrell watched from a distance, he put on the vest and grabbed his handgun. Nothing more occurred, but Terrell was on edge. The family continued fishing. Terrell and Damien ventured out into the surf wade fishing and began to drift. Their uncle tried to help, but just like that they were gone. Moving water is such a powerful, and often unstoppable force. Tragedy had struck. Both men were unable to swim against the riptide. The other men tried their hardest to get the the men, but it was too late. Their bodies disappeared into the abyss.

With the help of Texas Equusearch, the family searched all over the southeast Tx coast. Damien's body was found a few days after the accident. Terrell's mother refused to believe they would never recover her son's body, and a week later they found Terrell on Wolf Island. His mom said his body washed up on the cemetery there. Before searching the island, they were warned to watch out for snakes. The civil war cemetery there is known for its vast array of snakes.

It seems that some how, some way, God had been preparing Terrell for death. The dream, the prayers with family, the affirmation of love for his mother, far from coincidence. I believe God made Terrell aware, so he would speak to his family about Christ. Something in his spirit gave him an urgency to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ. All Christians are alive, so that they would tell the story. We can be great story tellers. We spend our time on blogs, Facebook, Twitter, at the dinner table, and water cooler telling stories. All entertaining, but in the grand scheme, meaningless. More often than not, we fail to tell the Greatest Story of all. Would you Live to tell THE STORY.

Teen Mania(cs)

Being a teenager is tough stuff. You have to deal with all those hormones, feelings, relationships, the pressures of life, school, sports, work, etc... I think that growing up as a teenager in the "hood" may be considerably harder. Over the past year back at good ole 80s, I have encountered teens with all kinds of problems: drug overdoses, shootings, stabbings, being jumped by gangs, robberies, teen pregnancies, suicides, cutting, you name it. I remember 3 teens in particular. The following are their/our stories.

We made a minor MVC(motor vehicle accident) at an intersection. I was driving the pumper(engine), and the first appalling, gruesome, stomach sickening thing we all noticed was a teenage girl, age 15, with short shorts, cellulite-booty hanging out, and the words F*#K ME written across the bottom standing on the sidewalk hugged up to some punk that looked to be in his mid 20s. In the car that caused the accident was a woman who was smoking, she looked like the kind of woman who has lived a hard life and waits at Waffle House. She happened to be the mother of the hussy who was advertising the services of her unattractive backside. The bystanders, and wrecker driver came over to us and told us that the teen had actually been driving and that the mother showed up and was trying to take the fall for the girl because she did not have a driver's license. Everything is wrong with this situation! The mother is allowing her daughter to dress like a $2 hoe and to be used by some punk who is not able to date a woman in his own age range, so he preys on young girls who are lacking self worth. She is also teaching her how to lie, cheat, be dishonest and not letting her suffer the consequences of her illegal actions. Parents need to be parents. Not friends. They need to stand up and set boundaries, guidelines, and proper discipline. They need to be the ones setting the example and teaching morals, values and integrity. That woman should be ashamed of herself.

Teen call #2 to remember: We arrived on scene to find an elderly lady wielding a foot and a half broken off leg of a walker as a sword, yelling at her grandson who was sitting in the van in the drive way. The boy was a 12 year old who decided that he was not going to obey his grandmother. Thankfully, Granny don't play that. The grandmother was asking him to get ready for sports camp. The lazy, plump, in desperate need of a workout- boy refused and told his grandmother that he wasn't going. She then, in not so many words told him staying home was not an option. He then bowed up to granny and pushed her out of his way. She may or may not have hit him in the mouth. He then went to the kitchen and got a knife and told her he was going to kill her. So she called 911 and may or may not have hit him again, maybe with her makeshift billy club ;) and got control of the knife. She called 911. He was crying like a big baby and went on and on about how terrible his life was, and how evil his granny was for not taking his "no" for an answer. BRAVO, Granny! Bravo! The lady above could learn a thing or two about not taking any shenanigans from a child. We need more parents and grandparents like Granny.

The saddest, and yet my favorite memory of the teens in our territory is about a 5ft 10in, 155lb 15 year old young man who had to confront his 6ft 4in, 300+ pound dad. The couple was going through a divorce because the mother had had enough of being abused by the overgrown coward. In that night, the man had come twice. The first time he came, he tore down the garage door with both hands, and kicked in the door to the house. For some reason he left, and the family barricaded themselves in their home. He later returned, shut off the power and kicked in the back door. He then went to the mom's room and began beating on her. The son picked up his reliable Louisville Slugger and went to home run derby town on his dad's fat head. When we arrived, we found the scumbag lying on the driveway, both eyes swollen shut, baseball sized lumps all over his head, crying like a little girl. He got what he deserved. Justice was served. Needless to say, he got zero sympathy from us. I have never felt so sad for and so proud of a young man in my life. That young man made the manly decision to protect his family against a perpetrator who shared his DNA. That night, the boy became a man, way too soon.

Yup, life is hard. Parenting is hard. Single parenting is harder. The common denominator in all three of the above scenarios was: the dads. Somewhere along the lines, men have disappeared. This generation has often been referred to as the "Fatherless Generation." The family unit as God intended it to be is on its last leg. Men have abandoned their families for work, "freedom," drugs, crime, and/or another man/woman. The only hope for the family and for these kids is for them to know the truth that there is a Heavenly Father who LOVES them, cares for them, who will never leave them or abandon them. Its time that men stop letting single moms, grannies, schools, daycares and churches raise their own children. Its time they start loving their wives and kids, being the priests of their households, protectors and providers. Its time they start teaching their families about God, His Word, and His unfailing love. See Deuteronomy 6. We have enough donors, we need more Dads!

What do I look like?

Some things never change. Some people never change. I think prejudice will always exist. In my 30 years of life I have heard every racial slur known to man directed towards me and others. As a mulit-ethnic mutt, I am usually not offended and am often amused because you may have only offended 1/16 of me. I've heard stories of black or hispanic firefighters who arrive on scene to help a white medical patient only to be told they want a white firefighter to care for them. Pretty silly when you think about it, but hey we still live in the south and people will always be imperfect. Recently I have been the target of or I have been witness to the crossfire of this silly judging a person by the color of their skin business. It's true, in 2009, with Barrack as President.



Two such incidents happened in the same day at the same retirement community. In both incidents my partner was assessing the patient and the other EMT's were getting vitals. So I decided to be the person who finds the medications, driver's licenses, social security cards, and insurance cards to complete our records. In both situations as I asked the patients where there walletts were so I could get the information. A look of horror and disgust came on their faces. I know huh, a dark skinned bald headed guy, who you called for help, wants access to your money, credit cards and identity. One of them responded, not thinking I could hear her, for one of the white firefighters to "keep an eye on him" and the other told me outright in a stern voice "don't steal anything." They both wanted to look in their walletts when I was done.

One thing I've never been is a thief. I am human and have many a flaw. I'm a sinner with the best of them. Not all dark skinned people are thieves, murderers, rapists, gangsters, lazy unemployed, and illiterate. Some of us do have college degrees and have graduated with honors ahead of most students in predominiantly white schools. Some of us on scene finished number one in their paramedic classes. That's the guy I'd want taking care of me and I'd be willing to trust....



The third incident happened this weekend. We were talking to an older gentleman and trying to figure out his baseline mental status. He had a stroke before and it was exremely hard for us to understand him. His wife interpreted for him, like a mother does for her two or three year old. We asked him the normal questions, what's your name, where are you, what day of the week is it? He missed the day of the week-which I do a lot of the time, so I asked him another common question. I asked him who the president was. Without missing a beat and in the most understandable articulate words he spoke since we got there he answered, "the ni--er." I looked around the room and jaws were dropped to the floor. There was absolute silence and a quick look to the only black guy in the room to make sure he was okay. The man's wife broke the silence by asking, " Did he just say ni--er?" Then she apologized for his words. She became the black guys best friend the rest of our time there.

It's true that these incidents happened with the elderly, It's not just the elderly who have prejudices. Membership in "hate groups" has risen dramatically since the recent election, and increase in hate crimes has occurred as a result.

Regardless of how people treat me or my co-workers, we do the job required of us with professionalism and compassion. It's our job. We have a rule, the Holder Rule, to treat all people as if they were our own family. The Bible tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves, Jesus expounded on that by teaching that everyone is your neighbor. The Bible also says not to "judge by mere appearances" and that there is "neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free." We are in fact all humans, all God's creation. We bleed the same blood, breathe the same oxygen, die the same deaths, and will have to answer to the same creator. When people show their prejudice and racism, we joke about it and laugh at their ignorance. We don't retaliate, because then their sterotypes and preconceived notions become justified and true for them. I live for the opportunity to prove them wrong, by loving the snot out of them.

Resurrection

So a couple of weeks ago we made this call that came in as a "Hanging, Possible Cardiac Arrest." These type of calls usually get the mind focused and the adrenalin pumping because you know you have a legitimate shot at "really" helping someone as opposed to the run of the mill sick call or panic attack. What we didn't know what that this young man would be 16 years old.

As we arrived, the family was understandably hysterical as they came home after being gone for 3 hours to find their son, with a belt around his neck and tied to the balcony. What a horrific thing to witness. We "worked" the kid for about an hour giving him every drug and medical treatment available. Experience and science were not on his side. There was absolutely no improvement after all we did. Upon arrival to the ER the doctor "called him," and gave the official time of death. Everyone- doctors, nurses, and firemen had the same look of devastation, thoughts of "he's too young, what was going through his mind?, could this have been prevented?" ran through all of our heads.

One thing about this call has really stuck with me. Just after placing the kid in the ambulance, his father arrived, hopped in the back, laid hands on him and began praying for him. We kept on doing CPR and bagging him as he prayed. There was a look of disgust on some guys, confusion on others, as if the father was impeding our progress. I at first wanted to have him leave as we were exhausted from trying everything we could to revive his son andit was an emotional thing to witness. But then it hit me. The father was praying a prayer of life, somthing along the lines of "In the name of Jesus, you shall live and not die." Over and over again. He said those words with power, faith, and conviction. One might say he was just in denial. I got the feeling that this man knows exactly the God he serves. I had a wake up call. I preach faith in God, believe in the impossible, and I know that God is all powerful. I try to live it; I am not always successful, but I try.

Here this father was with a lifeless son, putting his faith into practice. Not grieving, not mourning, not yet anyway. I know he believed what he was praying. The Jesus he knows gave life again to Lazarus, who was dead for four days. If He did it then, he can do it again. He CAN do ANYTHING. It's one thing to say it and know it, it's another to put it into action. God chose not to raise this young man from the dead, but that doesn't change the fact that He can. I believe that father still believes in God even after God did not answer his prayer the way he wished. That is true faith. It also reminds me of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego who told the king, even if God does not save them, they still will not bow to the statue. Our desired outcome of situations is sometimes not in God's will. He is still God. REAL FAITH is FAITH in ACTION. Do you believe? Do you have that kind of Faith? That man taught me a lesson in his darkest hour.

"Look both ways..."

I can still hear the words of my mom, or any other influential adult in my early childhood life. It is one of the basic rules of commuting on foot. "Look both ways before you cross the street." I have tried to teach my own children this simplest of rules. Over the past two months I have had to care for 3 people who were hit by moving vehicles the following is a brief summary of their stories.

1. While trying to stop a tow truck driver from taking his truck, a young man was run over. The details of why and how it happened are sketchy, but one thing is certain, the tow truck won. The guy had road rash over face, a broken collar bone, a broken femur, tibia, and fibula and possible basilar skull fracture. The good thing, he was still alive and going strong when we got there. It is never a good idea to stand in front of a moving vehicle. The bad thing, the tow truck driver fled the scene. Is there such a thing as an honest or honorable tow truck driver?

2. After getting high on an unknown pharmacological agent, a violent and erratic man was tased by police officers to subdue him. One of our ambulances was called to transport him to the ER for injuries sustained from the being tased and falling. As soon as the ambulance was leaving the scene, this muscular, drug crazed maniac broke loose from the backboard and jumped out the back of the ambulance. Our guys did the right thing and called for police to come get him and called for a supervisor. The man broke into a few apartments to hide and once he was found he became a track star and ran in his boxers and white air force ones across the ever busy Hwy 59 in the dark- just like the classic arcade game, Frogger. The man almost made it across before being flattened by a car travelling 70mph +. He was still breathing, but barely. We began to "work" him and cerebral spinal fluid began pouring out of his eyes and nose. Needless to say, he didn't make it. In addition to "look both ways", "just say no."

3. This last one was tough. A kindergartner and his mother were walking in the crosswalk right in front of their school when they were hit by a guy who stopped at the stop sign and did not see them. The kid ended up under the car. When we arrived, the kid was fighting and trying to get out of his c-collar and back board. We hopped in the back of the ambulance and got to the ER fast. Maybe faster than ever. He sustained multiple injuries, was breathing, moaning and fighting, the whole way to the ER. As soon as we opened the doors of the ambulance at the bay, it all ceased. No pulse, no breathing, no movement, nothing. We started CPR and let the Drs and nurses do all they could for about 45 min, but nothing worked. It was his time. The worst part came when I stopped by the room to drop off my record. The mother who was also hit in the incident was holding her lifeless child telling him it was going to be okay. I can't imagine the pain she was feeling and no doubt is still feeling.

In this job, I've seen plenty of adults breathe their last breath. None of them affected me to the degree I was affected by this. I struggled to keep my composure. I wanted to cry, but still had to remain professional and manly. In five years, this was the first time I watched as a kid died, the first time I had to try to revive one. It was by far the toughest day I've ever had at work-emotionally. We had to go to mandatory counseling, which was awesome. I highly recommend it. After some rest and a good cry, I was ready to get back on the horse.

Life is unpredictable. One day you're here, the next day you're gone. One moment, you are getting high, the next minute you're not as fast as you thought. One moment, you are trying to keep your car from being towed, the next you're fighting for your life. One morning you are walking your kid to school the next you are an empty nester. We don't know what the future holds. Death changes your outlook on life. Relationships are what matter the most. Spend time with your loved ones. Make time for them. Tell them you love them. Hug them until they make you let go. More important than loving your friends and family is being certain of your eternity, your life after death and having a relationship with your Creator. For God so loved the world...

It's Gettin Hot In Herre....

Most of you all 35 and below can probably finish the lyrics of Nelly's Hot In Herre, and the title of this blog. For those of you who cannot appreciate hip-hop/rap music, the line ends,"so take off all your clothes." Thus the real reason why I decided to post.

Naked (or nekkit if your from Tx) is how we found a young man last week. The call came in as a "fall." We entered an apartment complex to find a young man about 18 years old, 110 pounds, lying "butt freakin nekkit" on the sidewalk in front of an apartment that wasn't his. Some kind bystander placed a wash cloth over is you know what. He has a good sized strawberry and bruising to his right shoulder and right knee. The kid wreaked of alcohol and was obviously not in his right mind. No one seems to have ever seen this guy before, there are kids all over the place peering over the stair rail.

We try and treat him and get him on a backboard and he tries to get away. When I grab his arm, he tries to strong arm me. I'm 2x plus this guys size. I've eaten bigger steaks than this guy. He surrenders shortly there after and we get him into the ambulance at which point he goes unresponsive for several minutes. On the way to the ambulance I was sure to address all the kids. I told them not do to drugs because they will end up like this guy. I tell them to stay in school and graduate. They all nodded their heads. Oh the teachable moments. The guy "comes to" while in the ER. The Dr asks him if he has any family and he says, "solo tu"- only you. I start laughing and the doctor is a little embarrassed but amused as well. What a character.

The story goes something like this. A teenage girl was upstairs when the patient approached her with all his clothes on and tried to hug her. She denies knowing the guy. She says she pushed him away and he took his shirt off. Some time later the guy came back and was fully in the buff, and I guess very proud of his physique. She says he fell over the rail, hit his head and has been lying there for almost 2hrs.

So why wait 2 hours to call 911? She said he came back with no clothes on yet her family had the guys shirt, cell phone, and wallet. I'm no CSI, but some things just don't add up. Her older brothers were there and were being noble and said they covered him up because of all the kids around.

Fry/Wet/Sherm(marijuana dipped/soaked in formaldehyde) can mess people up. These people love to take their clothes off because their body temperatures climb and they sweat profusely. It also makes you lose your inhibitions as do most drugs including alcohol. Could he have been high so high on the wet?

Did the brothers throw him over the rail?

Did the girl slip this guy a date rape drug in his drink, so she could take his stuff?

What do you think happened?

The truth is out there somewhere. Some people say there is no truth, or that truth is whatever you think it is. I struggle with that logic dearly. I know people have different perceptions from past experiences, that shape their reality, but surely there is still truth. Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life..." What a crazy statement. What a bold statement. Who else calls themselves the truth? It has been said that Jesus was/is who he said he was/is; he was a big fat liar, or he was insane. For me I believe He is all that he claimed/s to be and more. Who do you say Jesus is? We all have already decided or have not yet made up our minds.