Facing your own Fears

I have been glued to my T.V. set these last couple nights after work watching with anticipation the rescue of the 33 miners that were trapped a half mile underground in Chile for the last 69 days. I watched with great admiration that first Chilean rescuer that descended down into the darkness of the twenty one inch rescue shaft to begin the evacuation of his trapped countrymen. A few times in my life I too have stood on the obis waiting to be sent over some dark edge to go help someone in trouble. I too know the feeling he must have felt swirling in the pit of his stomach. The uneasiness you feel soon leaves once you get to work doing what you are trained to do for your victims. While I am grateful that all the miners have been saved and are now on the surface again, for me the job is not nearly over till my Chilean brother is back on top also.

Several years ago my fellow firefighting buddy “Hollywood” and I traveled north to Tualatin Fire and Rescue for a comprehensive confined space training. Tualatin Fire had a confined space training facility underground where they would try to scare the hell out of you so it would prepare you for when the real deal happens. The last day of training they have sort of a final test where they grade your abilities and resolve, while you work through some very tight and snug situations. I was left in a bit of dismay when the firefighter going through the drill ahead of me panicked and needed to be rescued himself from the confined test space. He was a big man, proud looking guy. Once he was delivered to the surface unharmed, with tears in his eyes, he stomped off the training ground. I’m not sure if he even continued being a fireman because of the humiliation he felt by not being able to complete the exercise. Watching this nervous situation unfold right in front of me didn’t exactly leave me with a lot of confidence for my own attempt next, when the instructor said “ok buddy your next”…

…the tube is so small they have to load you into it like a torpedo on a submarine, with your arms stretched out over your head, your buddies slide you into the breach. Wearing a jumpsuit and a harness to where if you become stuck right away they can pull you back out. The tube is so tight you can’t even wipe the sweat from your own nose because your arm won’t bend in a way to reach it. You are only left with blowing the perspiration tickling the end of your nose off with your lips. You begin crawling forward using what I can only describe as the “Fred Flintstone method”, using only your fingers and toes to propel yourself forward. Things are snug but go pretty smoothly for the first twenty feet or so until you arrive at the first 90 degree turn in the pipe. You have to make a big decision at this point, continue on, knowing full well once you are around this corner they can no longer pull you back out around this corner using the harness and tag line you are wearing. Taking a couple deep breaths for confidence I squirm onto my side and wiggle around the abrupt 90 degree corner. For the first time you can now see the distance you need to travel to get out of this situation you have volunteered for. About now is when things really begin to close in around you and you start feeling sick to your stomach because of the claustrophobia enveloping around you. You can see the light at the end of the tunnel some 150 feet away but the opening truly looks like the size of the end of a pencil.

Remembering the failed firefighter just before me I press forward but am quickly being consumed by my own fears of also becoming trapped. The pipe at this point had a slight dip in it and a few inches of water had accumulated there. Almost to my braking point I lay my head down in the cool murky water. The coldness of the water actually made me feel better as it soaked into my clothing and helped cool my nervousness. I lay there for a few moments with my head laying in the wetness thinking what a dumb-ass I was for signing up for this crazy class. Suddenly far off in the distance I heard a voice coming from the end of the pipe I was lodged in. I thought it was saying “crawl to the pepper”. I yell “WHAT?”. Again I hear louder “Crawl to the Pepper” as I strain to look 100 feet ahead of me. Positioned right at the opening of my tomb was a Dr. Pepper hung from a rope by my good friend “Hollywood”. This simple act of camaraderie gave me the will power to push forward again. The closer I got to the opening the more confidence I felt. Finally reaching the end of the pipe the dilemma is not over. The pipe ends at a huge tank filled with water. From the manhole several feet above they have a rescue cable they swing to you. You have to catch it, latch the clip to the back of your harness and finally signal for them to “Hoist” you from the bowels of this training lesson. The only reason I was able to complete my training mission that day was because Greg took my mind off my worries and made slight of my bleak situation.

Thank You Friend, and congratulations to my Chilean brothers on their successful real life confined space rescue.  My hat is off to you tonight.