Richie

It's hard to believe that it has been 2 years. Feels like it was only yesterday that this organization, this city, this area, and this industry lost a truly inspirational leader. It's amazing that people will put a time frame on how well you may know a person, or that the longer you know someone, the more impact they have on you. I worked under his lead for 2 years which at the MC is a lifespan for many EMT's or medics. But in that short period of time, amazing lessons were taught to not only myself but my colleagues and practiced everyday. 

Simple things on leadership: and how it's much easier to achieve a desired result when you ask and not demand from those who work for you. 

Acceptance: and how we are all in this job together. Yes there is that breaking in of the new guy, but you were accepted by him unless you proved yourself otherwise. 

Accountability: a boss that would back you up 100% to the end, as long as you acted in good faith, but also give you the opportunity to take the initiative and prove yourself. Not just someone who would stand by and watch you drown in your own mistakes, but rather the first person to throw you a life ring.

Kindness: how he would find you at 2 am just to ask how things are going with school or if you needed any references for that 2nd job you were applying for to make ends meet. Maybe it was that text message making sure you were feeling okay and if you needed anything when you called out sick. 

It seems like simple things, but to those who have worked under such a great leader, it things that make you want to perform better as a person. They make you want to push yourself harder so that you may continue on the legacy of this person. It's been 2 years Rich, not a day goes by that myself and the rest of the d-team do not miss coming in and being greeted by your caring and warm personality. 

We all know that you are watching over us and making sure we do the right thing. That we go where you want us to go, and that we are there in the right places and the right times. More importantly that when the times get tough, we pull together the way you would want is to. Rest easy chief, we will continue to handle down here. 

Tour Chief Richard "Richie" Lopez 

JCMC 226

EOW 01/21/2013

The Exits

As I began my trek to work this evening, I ventured a different path. Today, I came from an area that I don't normally travel from. In fact today I didn't follow my normal routine of sleeping all day prior to my shift. In fact, I remained awake most of the day. As I began my commute from the western side of the state, I couldn't help but admire some of the views along the way. 

With it being dusk, the views weren't that of the rolling hills along route 10, or the sights of Morris county. But I couldn't help but admire the lights that lit up routes 80 and 280. The lights shine brightly on the highways, and faintly trail off into the suburbs. From a distance it looks like an IV contrast pumping through the body as it transitions from bright in the arteries to faint in the veins. 

As I make my way close to the city, I am struck with a sense of déjà vu. Not because of the trip, but because of the feeling. It's a feeling that hit me several weeks ago as I returned from a football game. As I pass the exits along the highway, I can't help but recall the people who I used to know and the time spent at places off those ramps. 

Now I am sure that this sounds petty, but as I approached certain exits, all I could recall was road trips that started or ended there. The nights wasted bullshitting in parking lots on nights when you had school or work early the next day. The beers drank around fire pits, and even heart to heart conversations with those going through shitty times. 

An awkward feeling at best, but it hit home for a few seconds. It made emotions sink in. For a moment I felt uneasy. You begin to feel proud that you were able to branch out and meet so many people. Being a kid from a small southern Bergen county, from a town where nobody ventures out. You witness those you grew up with make lives there, they never get up and see what is out there. For them, God bless, but I don't think I could ever find myself settling down from the town of back stabbers and shit talkers. At a young age, and with the permission of my parents, I ventured out. And I encourage all parents to allow their kids to explore the world around them and meet new people. It builds character and allows them to understand life a bit better. 

My adventuring started with a bordering town. Then a town two towns away. Once in high school it was weekends spent in hoboken and jersey city with new classmates. Then team mates drew me towards Kearny where I fell into a group of friends (QP) in which we all still hang out today. These guys all live off of 15e or 16w. Or route 3. Or 21. Some live off the Belleville turnpike. From there, the exits were the side streets off the main roads. 

As time went on people moved away. Some came home, some did not. Some moved on, some were buried. As life moves on so do our circles of friends. But not those damn exits. 

In my education, an exit is always considered a way out. And it is in a certain degree. You can exit a house, you can exit a structure. But an exit from a highway simply opens up a new pathway. Yes, it takes you off of

The speedway, the express lane, but it takes through the area and allows you to see the world. You need to take life's local roads. It keeps you humble and forces you to appreciate things.

But as the commute continues, I drive past the exits, as well as the people who still live there. The memories jog as you drive along. You wonder what ever happened to them? If they still remember you? Is it all just a distant memory? The lights get brighter, the exits become closer together. You don't have as much time to think between ramps. The mile markers serve as a count down till the next memory. Each number correlates to a person or an event. It's those god damn exits... They really make you think. 

PMA

As I write this, I sit in a volunteer ems meeting: 

What a crazy time it has been. I have recently been faced with a catalyst in my life and it feels great. It was the sudden change up that I needed. I was going through a very rough patch of my life and things were all dark. I was dealt another set of blows that I just couldn't see myself the silver lining in the situation. I didn't care about my health, my appearance, I barely found the motivation to take on the day. I was a mess, a bigger train wreck than normal. 

Work was dealing even more blows with an increasing call volume. We were still hanging on and waiting for a contract agreement to know if we were still going to have jobs or not. Things weren't pretty. 

And then an amazing thing happened. In the most unlikely places and a drunk conversation completely turned things around. I was given a shake up. Someone essentially sat me down and said, "things are going to get better. Rough patches don't last forever. You're gonna get through this."

Now this was something that I have heard hundreds of times from loved ones and friends. But it doesn't mean that same. Coming from them, it sounds like the obligatory pep talk that they have to give you, because they are your family. But this was different. This was was raw emotion from someone that barely knew me and it was a short conversation (from what I remember). This was a slap in the face, a wake up call. 

Things began to snowball from there. I began to start living my life in a new and honest way. I started accepting myself for who I was and not how much I was making. I stopped stressing about things that normally stressed me out beyond belief. 

It was the introduction of PMA (positive mental attitude). I was finally able to let go of all my stress and fears. I was about to start being truthful and realize that it wasn't all as bad as I made it seem. And with the right person things all become much easier. 

We all know that I don't hold back. But after this change and breath of fresh air, I hold back even less than before. I don't sugar coat things and I call people out on who they really are.  Did I burn bridges is all of this? You bet your sweet ass I did. Did I lose friends along the way? You know it. 

I lost many friends along the way. Some that I have held very near and dear to my heart. I've found myself to have found something that has no price tag, and a some thing that can't be put into words. I am able to be myself for once, and not some actor because there was a worry about what others may think.  I am no longer having to hold my tongue or worry about what someone else was saying about me in a language that I didn't not understand. 

No more worrying if I am good enough. I've found someone that takes me for who I am. Flaws and all. Something with someone that allows me to be me. Someone who not only understands my fucked up sense of humor but enhances it into something better. 

The real kick in the dick, I found out of all this, is how those around me compliment me on how much of a difference they see in me. Which is kind of a one-two jab in the face. In one way, I'm glad they are happy for me. Or they are lying through their teeth. I may never know. The other card is a me thinking, "wtf? Why didn't you tell me that I have turned into such a shit head?" 

Either way, I turn around and reflect on PMA. Things can't stay bad forever. As long as I keep my head above the water, everything will work itself out. In fact things right now are pretty damn good. And it's about time... 

J biggz and the swagmanian Devils

So recently I have embarked on an effort to expel some type of athletic activity. What this means is that my fat ass started playing flag football with a group of his drinking buddies and much more serious athletes. 

I am number 69 for obvious reasons

CMON out they said. It will be fun they said. At first it was, I had no clue what my out of shape ass was getting into. I'm thinking that these are gonna be games of "hee-haw" with the fuck around gang. Boy was I in over my head. The games are beyond fast paced and loaded with real athletes. Now I don't mean like guys that played on high school. I'm talking guys that excelled in the ncaa. 

The first week felt great but it took me almost a week to recover from me getting my ass beat. I even suffered a nice shin to shin contact that left my leg deformed in such a way that the ER docs didn't know what to make of it. Impressive right? 

One thing that this league has given me is the ability to see how long it takes me to bounce back from

Injury and games. A feeling I haven't felt in close to 9 years. 

There was a certain thrill that came along with playing on the offensive line. A place that I felt very comfortable and was good at until I became plagued with injuries. I really did miss the excitement and fun I had playing in the cold weather and just having fun on the team. 

The lessons I learned back then were something that I have taken with me and that I use everyday. Everyone has a job to do and we only reach success when everyone works together. The line, the quarterback, the backs, and receivers all need to keep each other in check or nothing is achieved. The same way the BLS, ALS, Chiefs, staff, engines, trucks, squads, and most importantly dispatch all need to be working on the same page in order to accomplish anything. 

I really do need to thank my parents for having me participate in team sports. They teach a valuable lesson that I think has faded Away over the course of generations. Growing up there was no participation trophy for losing. If you lost, you were the losers. It was simple. There was no pats on the back. You took what happened and you learned from it. Coach didn't say do better next time, you took initiative to watch the film and see what YOU did wrong and how YOU could learn from it. These people are usually identifies as those who will own up to their mistakes and learn from them. Something that many people cannot do, they simply look to point fingers elsewhere. 

I guess what I am saying is that im glad to be back on the field. No matter how much it hurts in the end. 

Why do you work so much?

As I sit in the truck during my 6th of 14 days in a row of working, It dawns on me. The ever popular question that I am asked so often. Why do you have so many jobs? When do you have time for fun? It's a conversation that my partner and I shared several weeks ago when he was having relationship problems. I have finally taken a step back and asked myself the question.

The answer to this is that work gives you a place of refuge. Similar to fishing or sailing for other people, where one can focus all of their attention on what they are doing. It gives them thing that requires so much effort, they don't have any time to think about anything else. This is the same phenomenon. 

Over the last few years I have noticed that my relationships with family and girlfriends have all taken severe nosedives. In an effort to avoid any hostility or confrontation, I would simply pick up an open shift at work. Why? Because it gives me the ability to get my mind off of things and it gives the other party time away from me. A fair balance right? I thought so. The less you'd have to deal with me the better.

The only issue with this mindset is that It doesn't make anything better. It's a temporary fix. This is a band aid, a patch kit, a cover up. Once work is over, you know the argument is waiting for you. So what can you do now. You thought you had it all figured out... Why didn't it work? 

Because although it may get you out of the problem temporarily, more often than not, it's still going to be there when you get out. At the same time where you feel that you may be escaping the issue, you may be just making things worse for yourself at the same time. You may be tied up on that call and you're unable to say that thing you had to get off your chest. Not to say that you wouldn't necessarily have missed out on the opportunity otherwise, but it is a factor. 

I myself have 4-5 jobs at any given moment. I have one full time and 3-4 per diem jobs. Why is this? My answer is simple. I cannot sit idle. I have to be doing something. I need to keep moving. I would rather work around the clock than sit around and wonder "what if?" Don't get me wrong. I enjoy my time off, especially when I have plans made. We all do.  It's when plans fall through or I have no plans at all where I feel like I am just wasting time. It's the fear of the unknown and not being able to adapt to change. Instead of sitting on the couch I could be making money. 

As for having time for fun? Ha! There is no fun for those that don't earn it. There is nothing that irks me greater than seeing people that barely work, and then bitch and moan about how they NEED a vacation. How they can barely survive their 18 hour a week job without needing a get away. The sad reality is that these people aren't escaping their stress. They are trying to escape the sad reality that their life has become. In my opinion(and that's why I started a blog), vacations should be earned. Those who break their asses deserve vacations or rewards. Those who sit and bitch about how it's hard to hold down a job for more than a month have absolutely no business near an airport of cruise ship. 

Granted I have my own reasons that have sculpted me into the work-a-holic that I am today. I refused to be backed into a corner and not have a way out. I can successfully, and can proudly admit, I have been able to keep my head above the water thus far. Although it is not easy in any way at all, I am doing. I often joke about the how I have to pay for the mistake I made called college. Student loans are a crippling but sad reality. It all comes full circle when you realize you pay more a month in student loans a month than you do for your rent or car payment. But I'm here and I'm alive. I am tired, beaten, broken down, and defeated...but I'm alive. 

But this is not a forever thing. This is temporary or so they say it is. In the meantime I will continue to work all of my jobs and make ends meet. Until the phone rings with that new job where I won't have to work so much. 

I wish my mind could forget what my eyes have seen...

It has been an emotional roller coaster since the last time I have written. For some fuck known reason, I chose to make excuses about everything that had happened. There were many ups and downs at work, and it knocked me on my ass. In national news, a police officer was shot and killed. This resulted in a threat towards us EMTs. These actions caught us all off guard and we suddenly went from being the heroes, to the targets. For the first time in my ems career and working in jersey city, I felt a fear for my life.

The subsequent days became longer. It was a mad scramble by all of our team to try and secure yourself a bullet proof vest. Your news feed and phone are flooded with messages of rumors and potential threats against you. What is real? What is a hoax? What is someone just looking to get you excited? Deep down you know it's just everyone looking out for your best interest. But it gets to a point where you really don't want to hear it anymore. You become tired of seeing the warnings, yet you never let that constant worry out of the back of your mind. You keep your head on a constant swivel, and you realize one thing... That the town you loved so well, has all changed in the blink of an eye.

Your normal bullshitting around with your partner before the shift, turns into a discussion of what you heard may be going down and making sure that each other's vests are fitting correctly. Now as you get into the truck, you realize more than ever, that it's real now, and you may not come home. 

You become vigilant, almost to the point of paranoia. People who you would walk by on the street, are suddenly a possible threats. You can no longer go grab the casual cup of coffee at 7-11, without having to keep your back against the wall. You no longer park your vehicle in an area where someone may approach it from an unknown area. Your fatigue level goes into overdrive. You're fighting to keep your eyes open and the act of remaining vigilant wears you out. You think it's all over with, and you realize that you are only 2 hours in. There is still 10 to go. 

You struggle to sit comfortable in your truck. And you begin to realize the things that are more difficult do. For example, it is really difficult to take a shit with a vest on. It's also a real pain in the ass to bend over to pick up small objects. But this is your life now. Some people have chose to stop wearing them, and that's their right to do so. I know the partnership that I have, we both wear ours, despite them being very hot and uncomfortable. 

But again, this has become the normal around town. You are faced with the moral difficulty of wearing Kevlar to work, not because you want to. It helps those who don't know what you see. The family and friends who care about you, that you know you couldn't ever tell what you have seen. And that if you ever did, it would give them nightmares. They would never be able to shake. 

All night, you ponder: Why should we do this? We are the good guys! We are the ones who help people! Why are we suddenly targets? It's not supposed to work this way!

Unfortunately, there is no time to stop and think about these kinda of things. You just have to strap on your boots and go to work. There's no time to be scared, there is a job to be done. In reality, Most of us have all accepted our fate in that if we get taken out on the job, it was just in the cards that way. However, you put it on everyday for your loved ones in hopes that they will be able to sleep a little easier until you walk back in that door. 

god damn dispatchers.

It is a very warm summer night, a night that is strange for this time of year. Normally this time of year, there is an increase in shootings and stabbings. One thing that I have learned in this profession is that nobody can ever seem to just “get along” with one another. If the weather is nice then people feel the need to go outside. When people go outside they have a few cocktails. When they have a few cocktails they go one of two ways. The first way, is that they consume booze to the point they fall down and someone calls acting as the Good Samaritan. The other way is that they continue to drink, run their mouth, and eventually get assaulted for offending someone. Moral of the story, don’t attend your funeral as a man named Phil Shiffley.

Also as I continue to sit here, I noticed that I have never really spoke about the unsung heroes and the worst and most hated people in any service based industry. We call these terrible individuals the dispatchers. No don’t get me wrong, there are some very very phenomenal telecommunicators here. There are also some not so good dispatchers here. What is the difference you might ask? Great question!

First off the dispatcher is the most despised person for a simple reason. They are the person who tells you were to go and what to do. When you are tired and you want a break, it is the dispatchers fault as to why a call came in. When you want to dodge jobs, and hide, it’s the dispatcher’s fault for seeing what you are doing on their maps and stop you. When you don’t want to pick up a certain regular that you have taken every day for the last 3 weeks, it will be the dispatcher’s fault that you happened to be a block away when the call comes in. No matter what the dispatcher does or says, unless they are cancelling a unit off of an assignment or telling the unit they are clear to return for shift change, you are the bad guy.

Now luckily for me, I am one of the few people here that are cross trained, meaning that I work the street normally, but will be occasionally pull up to dispatched when short staffed, or whenever a crafty plan is devised by supervisors to benefit themselves. (we do what makes them happy). The one thing that I see being a cross trained dispatcher is seeing all of my co-workers react to what the dispatchers say, forgetting that I myself am a dispatcher. Now I know that there is more than a fair share of shit talking about me when I am on the mic. Nobody wants to be working their ass off, nor do we want to make anyone have to break their ass. Sadly, there is still a job to be done.

In my few years of being up here, I can easily say that I am left more drained after a 12 hour dispatcher shift, than I am after working a busy night on the streets. Why? The type of work is completely different. On any given night the dispatcher is responsible for not only screening 911 calls, gathering vitals information, keeping in contact with all the units on the street, dispatching the units, and making sure everyone is safe. All of these things are occurring simultaneously, your eyes are jumping between 5 screens. Your ears are listening to units step on one another while they all attempt to broadcast their message. You are trying to send the closest available unit to an assignment based on what a computer tells you is the closest, yet your street smarts kick in, knowing that there are other units are closer. The phone rings constantly to the point you feel like you are in the movie Casino and your head is being beat in by Billy Sherbert.

After 12 hours of this, you feel like death. You feel like you won’t make it home to your bed. Youre day is shot and you are left with nothing. Now how does all of this tie in together? The difference between a good dispatcher and someone who sits behind a console? The good dispatcher is always a step ahead of the units on the street. They understand the units, they understand the tendencies and they understand how people operate. They know how people are going to sit on scene for 25 minutes after they left the patient. They know who their go to units are, and who they can send on special assignments and things will be handled the proper way. Now as you read this, you may or may not understand of what I speak. And that’s fine. Anyone who has worked a busy system knows exactly what I am saying.

On the other side of the card, there are people who simply read what is on their screen. These are the people that will dispatch the “train accident” in the 3^rd floor apartment. It takes a certain amount of thinking. It is also why it is important that the dispatcher knows the area of which they dispatch. Again, this results in sending a unit to the 30^th floor in an area of 2 story houses. No in some cases the dispatchers catch on to what is happening and they are able to grow and develop. Other dispatchers are similar to stapling jello to the wall, it’s never going to stick.

One thing that is upsetting is the abuse that the dispatchers take for doing their job. They occasionally receive a pat on the back. More often than not, they are being reprimanded for not getting a unit to the scene fast enough, or they are having their heads chewed off by a caller who feels that her toe pain warrants a life threatening response from our units. But night after night the battle wages on. Dispatch does their job the way they are trained and the street units yell and take every assignment personally. It’s the ying and the yang of EMS. If we didn’t have this, the world may implode.