When I was born, we lived directly across the street from the fire department pole siren. It was aimed at my bedroom window. My very first days on this earth were influenced by the sounding of the fire siren. I guess my baptism by noise destined me to join the fire service.
Because I grew up just down the street from the United Steam Engine Co. No. 3, I knew some of the paid drivers and attended some of the pancake breakfasts to raise money to purchase an ambulance.
I joined the volunteer fire service in Frederick, MD, in 1969, at age 16, even before I had my driver’s license.
When I became a member, I met older members who simply stopped by the firehouse to sit and talk about “the good old days.” Some of those members actually operated the steam pumpers and fed the horses. (I often am lovingly accused of having been in the fire service long enough to have tackled those same tasks.)
At age 16, I couldn’t understand why someone who was 50 years old or older was allowed to be a firefighter, much less drive. How your perspective changes with age.
Little did I realize that 70 years after my parents brought their newborn son home from the hospital that I would be involved in the fire service.
Various considerations
I have reached the age when I will cease being an operational member. That said, I realize that simply using the age of 70 is arbitrary. Even though I physically feel that I can continue to respond, I must be honest with myself in the decision in consideration of my health and my family.
I passed my most recent NFPA 1582: Standard on Comprehensive Occupational Medical Program for Fire Departments physical, but my pulmonary function test and depth perception aren’t what they used to be.
Because this is my 50th year as an EMT, I definitely have taken my last refresher. Crawling around on the floor, doing splinting and bandaging, using a backboard and doing high-performance CPR undoubtedly is a younger person’s job.
A friend’s LODD
One overriding factor that came into play in my decision—one that I hope that you never face—was being on scene of a line-of-duty death of a lifelong friend.
At age 70, Firefighter Michael Powers announced to the department that he no longer would be operationally active. With more than 50 years of service, he decided that it was time to ease back and support the department as an administrative member. However, after a few months, Mike realized that the department was struggling to get drivers. He reconsidered his operational activity.
Knowing in the spring of 2019 that the county budgeted for a full-time engine crew to be on duty in the fall, Mike offered to the fire chief to come back and drive apparatus until the fire company was assigned full career staffing for an engine.
Mike took his physical and returned to actively driving apparatus.
At approximately 4 a.m. on the morning of June 25, 2019, our department was dispatched mutual aid to a neighboring county for a two-alarm house fire.
This particular day, Mike took off to work around the house. He responded to the firehouse.
As we sat and talked about how long each of us would continue to respond to incidents, our engine was dispatched for a medical assist call. With Mike driving and me riding officer, we responded with our medic. The medic and I joked with Mike about him putting on his turnout pants when we got on scene for a medical call.
We returned to the station as other units started to go back in service from the house fire.
Shortly before 2 p.m. that same day, our department was dispatched to a serious motor vehicle accident—private passenger car versus a tanker semitrailer—with the report of one person pinned. Because our rescue-engine was out of service (mechanical), Mike drove our structural engine, with our chief and career captain as the crew. I followed with our brush mini-pumper.
On arrival, the medic immediately advised an obvious fatality and no other injuries. At about the same time, I heard our chief radio to communications a report of a firefighter down.
As I pulled up on scene, I soon discovered that the firefighter down was my lifelong friend, Mike Powers.
Immediate advanced life support efforts were being instituted. I ran to assist, pulling off the same turnout pants that I kidded Mike about on the 4 a.m. call.
The scene became surreal: a lifelong friend now lying lifeless.
I asked the chief for permission to return the mini-pumper to the station, and I would notify the family.
As I pulled up in front of Mike’s residence, his wife knew immediately why I was there: Listening to the incident on the monitor, she recognized all of the voices that were operating but didn’t hear her husband.
I responded to the hospital with the family, hoping that the heroic efforts to save Mike’s life somehow would be successful. Despite a valiant effort by all who were involved, Mike was pronounced dead a short time later.
Change of perspective
I was very fortunate to have almost immediate intervention from several of the career EMS officers who are in our county who are trained in critical incident stress management. Their support and caring got me through one of the most difficult days of my 50-year fire service career.
I hope that you never experience a line-of-duty death of a colleague, because your life will change, your perspectives will change.
Our county crisis team continued to follow up with me.
The county paramedic who was on duty at our station that day was devastated and, ultimately, needed further intense follow-up.
Age 70 took on a new meaning to me that day.
Self-review
So, now, as I turn 70, I must be honest with myself. Should I be driving a fire truck? Can I honestly say that I can perform fireground tasks today the same way that I did even 10 years ago? Even having passed the NFPA 1582 physical, am I truly capable? Can other firefighters depend on me to back them up on a line, to search a room or to rescue them?
About six years ago, I had serious back surgery that required fusion between two lumbar vertebrae. After two months off of work, I was released to full duty as a deputy chief. Although the vast majority of my responsibilities were administrative in nature, I still was the county duty officer for “C” shift every three days.
I decided to retire but remained operational as a volunteer, primarily driving or incident command. I was very aware of the fusion in my back and tried to avoid extremely heavy lifting. Other medical issues that complement my continued advancement in age began to creep in.
I know some friends who are in the fire and rescue service who continue to drive apparatus or serve on an ambulance crew into their 80s. God bless them! One can only admire such dedication. However, as I review my own checklist of health, wellness and abilities, I believe that I must be honest with myself: 70 is old. I must consider my wife and children, who continually worry about me responding, particularly in the middle of the night.
Unneeded stress on the body
At age 25, I was involved in a stress survey of Montgomery County, MD, fire/rescue dispatchers. (The U.S. Army considered the operations of our emergency communications center comparable to a wartime military command center.) We wore special monitoring devices around the clock, on and off duty. I happened to be wearing the monitoring devices off duty at my firehouse when we were dispatched to a report of a gas station fire in a neighboring county. On hearing the dispatch, my vital signs nearly exploded. Heart rate, blood pressure and body movement all showed the sudden shock to the system when the alarm sounds. The completed survey demonstrated the same type of physical reactions to dispatchers during high-stress incidents.
Did that sudden adrenaline rush push Mike’s body over the edge? Did getting up in the middle of the night hearing a two-alarm fire dispatched heighten vital signs that never diminished? We never will know, but what I do know is that what my body could withstand at age 16, or age 30 or even age 60 is very different from what my body can withstand at age 70.
Although I plan to curtail my activities, I have yet to see whether I will let a tanker fail to respond to a desperate need for water if I am standing in the firehouse.
It’s difficult to know exactly when to say when.
“When.”
Clarence Jewell
Clarence “Chip” Jewell is in his 54th year as an active volunteer. He is a life member of the Libertytown, MD, Volunteer Fire Department and the Junior Fire Co. No. 2 in Frederick, MD. Jewell retired in 2017 as the deputy chief/director of the Frederick County, MD, Division of Volunteer Fire & Rescue Services, a combination service that consists of 25 independent fire and rescue companies, 600 operational volunteers, 1,700 volunteers and more than 400 career personnel. He has a bachelor's degree in fire science from the University of Maryland/University College. Jewell is a management-level instructor for the Maryland Fire and Rescue Institute. He is active on several committees of the Maryland State Firemen’s Association.
