Читать книгу The Firefighter Blues - Alan Bruce - Страница 5

Unlike fires, adrenaline is our enemy during rescue incidents. Having every nerve-ending spark into life while blood speeds through our veins, energising extremities, widening pupils and fine-tuning ear drums is ideal if we’re running from a lion, or in our case, kicking down doors, rushing into blazing buildings or dragging heavy water-charged hoses through burning scrub. Rescues are different. Sometimes it's like sewing on a button during a landslide. Making tiny incremental adjustments to tools and equipment, developing extrication plans for the safe removal of the victim and trying to concentrate on intricate, delicate and complicated rescue procedures is challenging enough without the intrusive behaviour of our thrashing, screaming hyper-activated brain. It’s a real challenge for firefighters. Remaining calm and grounded while your brain tries to switch into fight-or-flight mode is counter-intuitive and when repeated over and over, year after year, can have dire psychological consequences.

Even back then I knew, eventually, something had to give. I just didn’t know what to do about it. During that era, for me, male bravado trumped common sense every time. Very little help was available in the way of counselling and the culture of the times ensured that seeking assistance would be seen as a sign of weakness. I was just too embarrassed to cry for help.

A few days later, a couple of cops from the police station next door paid a visit to our station. They filled us in over a cup of tea in the mess room.

‘The kid under the train was a 15-year-old boy, who, for years, had been the victim of bullying.’

It seemed like all flexible thinking had abandoned him and he chose death over the life he had. Today I have a better understanding of how he must have felt. At that time, I remember thinking …

Where was his support? Where were his parents?

How could he let things get to that point? Why didn’t he just get help?

I could never do what he did.