What Is a Bad Day, Really?

Did you ever stop to wonder if your "bad day" might have been some other person's really good day? I don't know if I've ever pondered that, and I have to thank my blog for prying that thought from me now. Today I realized that in spite of how bad my day was, there was one man I came in contact with who would probably give an awful lot to have had my "bad day."

I wish I could say I was going to bring some humor into this blog tonight. But even though firefighters and police officers, the first of which I am and the second of which I was, are known for morbid humor, tonight there will be none of that. For one thing, I wouldn't presume to push that kind of humor off on people who don't deal with death on a frequent basis. Humor is used by emergency response personnel to deal with the stress of watching people get hurt and die . Few people living in the normal workaday world would understand that humor. Besides, in this particular instance there is no humor. Out of the call that took up most of my "eight-hour day" today, I can't find one reason to laugh.

But I'm getting a little ahead of myself. Here are the details of what I was thinking of as my "bad day." I started out having a bad day when my alarm clock went off at 5:30 and I started hitting reset and pondering the morning's workout, which was dwindling with every push of that button. The workout itself went well, especially because it is quality time I'm able to spend with my wife even on the days I have to work, but after that the day started to go downhill. My daughter delivered me a message wrong this morning, and I ended up in a place I didn't expect to be and running into a person I was neither ready nor willing to see. Bad, uncomfortable moment.

I escaped that situation a little worse for the wear, but then on arriving at my next appointment realized I had forgotten my uniform boots, as I had been dressed in workout clothes for the morning's exercise period--which of course I would have completely missed if I hadn't gone on my own before work. I thought the day was looking up when they told me I didn't have to be in my meeting but could get my workout in instead.

Now let me jump back for half a moment to make an important point. This day wouldn't have seemed so bad but for the fact that it was my 20 year wedding anniversary, and I was having to work it. I had this big, grandiose plan I was going to pull off which I had been planning for quite some time. But first I forgot my wallet, and second, I didn't make the phone calls I needed to make before it became too late.

I started out my workout by taking off my wedding ring so it wouldn't get scratched by the weights. For my workout, I did 35 pullups, 60 dumbbell curls, and jumped on the treadmill to work up a real sweat, which I lived to regret. Ten minutes into the treadmill workout we got a call, one of those calls a firefighter dreads to hear. Trench collapse.

I was understandably keyed up by the nature of the call, so I didn't realize until partway there that my wedding ring was no longer on my radio antenna, and I had no idea where it was. So here it was my 20th wedding anniversary, and I'm living with the fact that I might have lost my wedding ring forever. We think of the oddest things on the way to bad calls, I know.

The day was very hot, and my turnout gear was even hotter. Between this and the fact that I was already sweating from the treadmill, AND I sweat like the Nile River normally, I had sweat running into my eyes from my helmet for the first half hour of that call, which caused my eyes to burn even up till now, 9:52 at night. As we arrived, the scene consisted of a huge track hoe stalled over a ten-foot-deep trench, two workers and a little old man from Search and Rescue doing CPR on a burly man who lay with his legs still trapped by dirt at the bottom of the trench. Not good. To make matters worse, the trench was cracking again and in imminent danger of further collapse.

To say the least, the three men in the bottom of the trench were overjoyed to see us. But they needn't have been. Our rules strictly forbid us from going into a trench that has not been shored up. No matter who is in the trench, we have to stay on top and watch until the necessary equipment arrives for us to do our shoring, which takes a large amount of time. Always too much time.

Ten minutes into the call it had become obvious that we were not performing a rescue. We were recovering a body. At that point, everyone was forced out of the trench, and the task of shoring it up to get the body out began. This call, which had come in sometime between 10:15 and 10:30, did not end for our engine until sometime after 2:00. For other engines it lasted much longer.

By this time I had been in turnout gear for far too long. My feet were aching and sore, I was completely soaked with sweat and very dehydrated and hungry. But because of other calls we were unable to make it back to our station for any refreshment. While everyone else went to these calls in uniform, I continued to respond in turnout gear because I had to.

I won't list all of the little things that I thought were making my day so bad. It was bad enough already that I hadn't been able to bring to fruition the plan I had so long dreamed up for this anniversary day. It was bad enough that I was hot, tired, dehydrated and hungry, and the calls seemed to have no end.

When I finally pulled off my turnout pants and boots, my feet looked like I had been in a hot tub for 40 minutes. There wasn't a part of them that didn't ache, and they were pasty white and wrinkled. But I finally got a long, hot shower, something to eat, and was able to sit and breathe quietly for a while. The day improved. That was my bad day.

But you know something? That young man in the trench would probably have loved to have my bad day. As it turned out, he was 29 years old, with a pregnant wife and three children at home. I didn't want to hear this part, but my driver told someone else, and I overheard it. I can't tell you how it made me feel. All of the things I had been feeling so sorry over seemed to vanish. No, I hadn't been able to surprise my wife like I wanted for our anniversary, but I was able to call and talk to her later. And tomorrow I will be able to hug and kiss her and my kids. I got hot and sweaty and thirsty and hungry. The man in the hole got cold. And he will never be able to feel sweat in his eyes or feel thirst or hunger again. His wife will never get to see him coming up the driveway, and the kids will never get to run to him and throw themselves into his arms.

I am a person of huge faith. I know there is a life after this. No one could begin to convince me any different. I don't feel so sorry for the man in the trench, but I feel very sorry for those left behind who loved him and who will miss him. And I feel sorry for guys like me who can't see past the little things that they feel are making their day so bad when people around them are having far worse days.

This man's death prompts me to remind you all to tell your loved ones how you feel about them while you can. I'm sure this man's family never dreamed he would not be coming home. Don't be afraid of the word "love." The word "regret" is a stronger word if you let someone die without ever having told them.

Incidentally, I found my ring when I picked up my sunglasses. It was on one of the stems. I had taken it off the mic because I was afraid I might lose it. No, my day wasn't that bad after all.