It’s 3:30 in the morning, and I’m wide awake. Not because I wish to be- but because the tones just jarred me from my sleep, again. Initially I open my eyes hoping it isn’t my turn to make another call; it’s not. It’s the Quint. They’ve been called to a house fire.
So now I’m in bed, hoping I can reclaim another hour or so of sleep. I have a full day with my family tomorrow. But I’m wide awake at the moment. Although I’m tired, I simply can’t go back to sleep. My mind is thinking about the crew that just left, the house that’s on fire, and the family that may be there. All the while- I’m wishing I could close my eyes and find peace in a sweet dream. I make no complaints about my current situation. But at 3:30 in the morning, when you’re wide awake, and most of your crew is gone working on a house fire, you can get pretty lonely. My only comfort is the rhythmic snoring of your my partner in the adjacent cubicle. At least he’s sleeping. I feel a lil’ safer knowing he will have had some rest when he gets under the wheel headed to our next call.
I make no regrets for my current situation. This is the profession I chose, knowing there would be nights like this. I simply wanted to share. Many times its glamorized to be magnificent, and heroic. When most times its like this; sleepless nights, interrupted meals, and incomplete bowel evacuations, in the name of being there for someone else (on their worst day ever.) I hear the Quint pulling back into the bay. At least they made it back safely. Good night world.