Although I’m not entirely sure how I managed the issues I experienced in my life, I recognize and acknowledge my traumas. This acknowledgment is my first step toward breaking the chains I didn’t even realize were holding me back. Taking one step forward is the way to free myself from those chains and begin living a life unburdened by them.
I understand this process might seem relatively easy, but the first thing we must recognize is that we all carry traumas. You are not alone, and I am not alone!
Early Influences and a Change of Plans
From my first day volunteering in a small fire department just outside Greensboro, N.C., I knew the experience would change my life. The opportunity to help those who are sick or injured continued my years of volunteering with the Red Cross, where I dedicated myself to assisting those in need and earned every badge available in overall water safety, all the way up to water safety instructor.
I grew up as a “city boy” in suburban Boston. Throughout my childhood, I visited numerous firehouses in the area, and once I obtained my license, I explored even more. What I found was a warm and welcoming group of firefighters, who continued to be a part of my life through high school and college in suburban Boston. However, this is where my life veered off the planned path.
A Detour and a New Direction
For more than a decade, I intended to become a rabbi. My older brother, five years my senior, had already been ordained and was working in a congregation in Connecticut. That April, I traveled to New York City for my seminary entrance exams, and that is where my plans began to unravel, leading to my first emotional trauma. To add to the complexity, I was also getting married that October. Fortunately, I took a slight turn and was accepted into the seminary of the Reform Movement in Cincinnati, then my wife and I headed to Ohio!
However, I encountered another emotional challenge. The seminary just wasn’t the right fit for me. Luckily, I was also working part-time as an educator at a conservative synagogue, where the principal recognized my potential as a teacher; I had been teaching in synagogues since the age of 13. By the following spring, we relocated to North Carolina, where I was hired as the educational and youth director of the synagogue’s school and youth groups. This is where my life truly began to change for the better.
Finding Purpose in the Fire Service
It was August 1977, and we settled into our new apartment. On my way to pick up groceries, I noticed a nice building with red bricks and bright, shiny red apparatus in the bays, just down the road from our apartment complex. I arrived around lunchtime and walked out half an hour later with a volunteer application in my hand. At last, my life felt “fair” to me. I loved the training and the learning aspect of it all, eagerly reading every trade publication that landed in the day room. Thankfully, several of the full-time firefighters were eager to “educate” new, young recruits. And I ate up everything they taught us.
My parents moved to Florida in 1979. In February 1980, my father suffered a cardiac arrest while dining at a restaurant with my mom and another couple. I received a call from my younger brother about the emergency, and within two hours, I was on a jet heading to Palm Beach County. It was touch-and-go for several days, but he made a good recovery. A few months later, they decided to move back to suburban Boston.
By that time, I had become the executive director of a conservative synagogue in upstate New York. During my time off over the summer, my family and I drove to Massachusetts to visit my parents and younger brother. My older brother was also visiting.
Family Crisis
We enjoyed a nice dinner together, catching up on the news within our extended family, neighbors, etc. The next morning, as I was finishing getting dressed for an audition with a different synagogue for the upcoming High Holidays, my mom came to me and said, “Dad wants you to help him shave.” “Huh?” I thought to myself. This was the man who had taught me how to shave!
I went into his bedroom and saw him sitting on the bed, sweating profusely. He looked at me and said, “Bud, I think you should call the doctor.” (Buddy was my family nickname). Up until this point, I had never heard my dad ask for a doctor!
I dialed 9-1-1, explained I was an EMT/firefighter, and provided the first set of vitals to the operator. I tended to my dad until the ambulance arrived. Listening to his heart with my stethoscope, I realized he was experiencing some form of cardiac issue. When the firefighters entered the room, I asked them where their “tools” were – specifically, the defibrillator, drug kit, and so on.
It was then that I learned, in July 1984, the State of Massachusetts had only allowed paramedics to operate through Boston city hospitals. The rest of the state had to rely on EMTs, if they were fortunate, or just ambulance attendants, similar to those we saw on the show EMERGENCY. I was furious but knew I couldn’t waste time on my anger. We loaded my dad onto the gurney, took him down the elevator, and into the ambulance.
First Major Trauma
We arrived at the ER and waited. And waited. And waited. About an hour later, we were told we could see him, and I rushed into his CCU room. It was clear my father was my best friend growing up, and I was struggling with this situation. In his room, he looked much better, but as I monitored the EKG, his heartbeat was still irregular. He looked at me and asked, “Aren’t you supposed to get a haircut today?” I laughed! Despite all the chaos, he was still focused on the unimportant things. He mentioned his lunch was on the way and told me to get my haircut, which I did.
I had not been in my cousin’s salon for more than five minutes when my cousin answered the phone and looked at me with a somber expression. It was my younger brother calling to inform me that dad had had another incident. I arrived back at the hospital about six minutes after the call, only to be told my father had passed away.
This shattered my world. I was consumed with anger at myself for having let him convince me to go for a haircut. My mom and brothers were in the family room. I had lost the man I had looked up to since I was a kid. This was my first major trauma.
An Unexpected Opportunity
A little over a year after my father’s passing, I experienced a trauma I initially perceived as merely a medical issue. I had been in the fire service for eight years, with four years in each of the two departments I had joined. Between 1978 and 1984, I injured my left knee a couple of times. However, during my 1984 injury, both my orthopedist and the fire surgeon declared I could no longer fight fires due to the persistent issues with my knee. I was flabbergasted; I did not see this coming. It felt like a punch in the gut.
After the meeting, the chief sent me home, and I was not just sad, I was emotionally devastated and withdrew from everyone for a day or two. My wife recognized how upset I was and did her best to console me, but their decision cut deep.
The next day, the chief called and asked me to come down to the station. He sat me in his office and began by acknowledging what a valuable asset I had been to the department, highlighting my ranking in the Top 10 responders and my additional contributions as a board member.
A New Start
He then retrieved a small parcel from his desk and told me to open it. Inside, was a silver badge engraved with the words “FIRE INSPECTOR.” For a moment, I was confused about its significance. The chief noticed my reaction and explained, “Steve, we know how difficult the medical decision was for you. However, you are still a valuable asset to this department. The board of directors and the village board recognize your contributions, and with your specialty in education, we would like to offer you the position of fire inspector. We will send you to a couple of classes, and you will then be working shifts alongside the other inspector.”
I accepted the offer and worked hard for the next year. While it may not seem significant at first glance, a wonderful therapist pointed out that, less than a year after my father passed away, this marked the second powerful trauma I experienced. Initially, I found it hard to accept this, but over the past year, I’ve come to terms with it.
The Hidden Impact of Witnessed Trauma
During the eight years I served in two different departments, I witnessed things no civilian should ever have to see. Did some of those experiences bother me? Absolutely, as many of those scenes were horrific. I still remember them, but they never caused me severe emotional issues. When it comes to noticing changes in myself, to be honest, I would say “no.” But perhaps I should have! For thousands of firefighters – whether career, volunteer, paid-on-call, or WUI – we often used the phrase, “Suck it up!” in response to challenging circumstances.
Today, the vast membership of the fire service recognizes our jobs can be dangerous. There are various coping mechanisms we can use to manage trauma. However, as I discovered, the impact of trauma isn’t always evident on every shift. If we don’t address trauma promptly, it can fester and grow, ultimately affecting ourselves, our colleagues, and even our families.
A lot has changed over the last 40 years. Yet, as most firefighters know, the words we do not like hearing are, “changes,” and “status quo.” So, how do we get the message across to our brother and sister firefighters? That change is inevitable in our job and maintaining the status quo is often a waste of time, effort and money, and fails to bring about formative changes we often need.
As in my case, I knew what I was upset about, but I failed to see those incidents as what they truly were: Emotional traumas. And I’m not alone. Many of us wind up in a similar “boat,” but we are unable to find an oar to help us “paddle” back to the dock.
The Importance of Recognizing and Seeking Help
Unlike 40 years ago, today there are more firefighters who take additional classes to learn how to help a brother or sister who is overwhelmed by their current position. Additionally, there are behavioral health experts who are placing their focus on the well-being of firefighters.
There is no shame in acknowledging you have issues. In fact, I would like to meet another firefighter who knows he/she wants to find help but has no idea how to find it! If you find that person or that person finds you, it is incumbent upon you to step up to start their journey and/or assist in finding the professionals who specialize in the behavioral issues that first responders often experience.
Remember, to be an effective firefighter and provide fire protection, medical and emotional support to others, the first person you need to take care of is yourself.
Steve Greene was a volunteer firefighter/EMT in North Carolina for four years and in suburban Syracuse, N.Y., for almost four years. He continued on with teaching the new members. He is also the president of 5-Alarm Task Force Corp., a 501(c)(3) non-profit that provides financial assistance to our brothers and sisters and/or their families, in dire need. And, since 1977, he has been teaching both youth and adults.
