DRT

I followed my driver into the apartment looking for the victim. A quick glance across the room down the hallway to the bedroom. He lay on the floor about a foot from the edge of the bed. My partner didn't need but a second to tell his condition. Experience had clued him in and it was obvious to him the poor lad was expired. The medic came into the room and, even quicker arrived at the same conclusion as she uttered the words, "Oh my."

Back in the academy amidst all the learning and banter, we had discussed some of the seedier details of the job. Dead bodies, deformed from car crashes, blood and guts all over the place. They made it sound like these scenes we would pull up on would be part of a normal days activities. Get on scene, do the job, clean up, get back to the house, and eat lunch... Back to reality please.

By now the tragic news has made to the next of kin. Girlfriend, friends, Mom and Dad, brothers and sisters dealing with this heavy loss. Coroner arranging an autopsy and most likely funeral arrangements are underway. The questions start to arise, most of them beginning with "why?" Life goes on for those left behind, only now with an empty place filled with personal belongings, pictures and even possibly the scent of cologne on a pillow case.

During my EMT training I remember making light of the acronym DRT. One of my instructors made a comment: "I walked into the room and there he was, DRT...Dead Right There..." We would all giggle a bit. Not on the content of the comment, that would be sick. It must have been the presentation, you know every comedian agrees it's the timing that makes a joke funny. Oh and I forgot to mention, we made it part of our vocabulary, each trying to enter this lament into a conversation with perfect timing as to score a laugh. Fun?

I'm not getting down on anyone. I know we all handle stressful situations differently, but I personally find it hard (in light of today's events) to make small of such a tragic event. This career I chose has some pretty dark moments, and despite all the glitz and glamour of being a firefighter, I found myself standing at the feet of a corpse. Nothing I could do for him. No chance of being a hero today. Just turn around and head back to the truck.

I dont think I will use the acronym "DRT" anymore. It just doesn't set well with me. It is now just a reminder of a bad day at work, one of many that will come before I retire.

In our line of work, some radio transmissions include codes. Plain text is preferred now-a-days, but occasionally the need for a code is better suited. As the police arrived on this morning's scene, the words "code seventy-three" sounded between all personnel in the room. Enough said to cue everybody in on what was going on there... No LOL, no Ha Ha, no smiley face.