The Other side..

A deep gasp of breath as my head snapped off the cushion, and I silenced that noise with a loud bang. One of these days, I’m going to slam that alarm clock right off my bedside cabinet—and it will not be my fault.

Just before then, I was talking to him, you see. In a space filled with an infinite white floor. Right in the middle of the nothing, just one chair. Sitting neatly with his legs together and his hands in his lap, almost trying not to be there. I don don’t think he wanted to, but he had to tell me.

"Come closer. There is something I need you to see, my son."

As I leaned in to make our spaces one, he pointed in a direction with a shaking hand that barely made it off his lap. I had my hands resting on his knees to complete our closeness, my head tilted toward what he wanted me to see. The vision was faint at first, showing only billowing black smoke—almost peaceful as it rose into the morning sky. It became clearer, to the point I could see it all. More than that, I was experiencing it: the heat on my skin, the bright flames blinding my vision, and ashes burning against my hands and face.

A small white car was giving rise to the heat and the chaos underneath. Police, fire and rescue, traffic control—we were all there. They were pumping foam through the driver's window in a futile attempt to stop the chain reaction of heat and prevent poisonous gases from escaping even further.

All the pressure was on the ones in front. You don’t kill a monster like this without cutting its head off. The battery had to be disconnected, or the sparks inside would just continue reigniting and making the morning worse. But it was all bent up, like a useless piece of white paper tossed into a rubbish bin.

A small internal explosion caused the monster to assert its position in this struggle. They all scattered. One fell over his feet but got up almost just as fast. They could not get closer, but they could not wait. The head was feeding the monster, and the monster was safeguarding its head with weapons of heat, sparks, and hot, poisonous gases. It all got worse.

She was lying in the road, already strapped into the scoop stretcher, waiting for the smoke to clear so Medevac could get in. There was something he needed me to see that they couldn’t. I walked over to her slowly, trying to make sense of the vision I was in. By my initial assessment, she was as stable as she could be; the problem had to be elsewhere. I saw the limp in the firefighter who got up. Thinking that was it, I ran over to assist—it could very well be a fracture concealed by an overdose of adrenaline.

"No, son! Look at what she is saying."

That focused all my being. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked back. Immobilised by nylon straps cutting across her—five of them. Contact with her eyes at last. Her mouth moved slowly. She did not need to make a sound; her lips were enough.

Someone in the car!

"Where, Dad? Where?" I desperately needed him to show me. I could not get this wrong, and access was obstructed by all that was happening.

"Behind where she was. On the floor, son."

I ran past the limping fireman and took control of the hammer in his hand. Training taught us this: cover before breakage. I held my left elbow over my face as I smashed through the safety glass, pulled up the little knob, and the door flung open almost immediately.

I broke code by forcing access before securing safety, but I was glad I did. On the floor, something was moving. Not what I was expecting, but life, nonetheless. Just a slight movement in my hands was all I needed to confirm I was in the right place.

Slowly, I raised it up, careful not to let it touch the hot, burning nylon material next to it. He was probably only seven weeks old—a chocolate Labrador puppy. Slightly shaken and distressed, but in good condition given where I found him. His name came to me without thought: Old Smokey.

That was when the alarm went off, and I missed the happy ending—the reunion with the old lady. It wasn’t there, and that made me so incredibly angry. But I knew I was only about to start this story. I didn’t bother with a shower or eating; I stood watching my pager as it went off.

Later that day, when the scene was cleared and traffic returned to its unassuming business, she saw him alive, and the joy in her eyes made us all cry. That is when I knew: my old man is still helping me. Even after his death, he is my safety net. My guardian. And for that, I will be forever grateful in ways I will never be able to repay.

That day also came with an important lesson in relevance. To all of us, and to others, maybe he was just a puppy—a little dog caught in a big, nasty accident.

Had he passed away that morning, there would be no eulogy, no funeral or procession. Just an already burnt body sent to be burnt even further in the city crematorium.

But to that old lady, the one we visited in City Hospital later that week: Old Smokey was everything. She lived alone in a small bungalow, and he was all she had. We joked about his name, and she agreed to the more relevant one. 

But, to her you see, we saved a child. Both of them, now unified by the ordeal of that Morning.Each of them, now having the slight burn scars to show their unison in life.

And that, for us in Emergency. Is just another day at the office. How blessed are we!