|
"Touching the heart of another: That’s what keeps me coming back," says
paramedic and rookie firefighter Lynnda Rogers, 34. She knows that when
she’s in an ambulance, it might be her third cardiac arrest case of the
day but the patient’s first ever.
Paramedic and rookie firefighter Lynnda Rogers punches holes through walls
and ceilings to find hidden fires. She hauls ladders and hose, pulling
24-hour shifts at Memphis Fire Station No. 7 downtown.
"When it's all over I
want a bath and a hot cup of tea," said Rogers, 34. Call her the perfect
contrast. She's brawn and grit in a pressure cooker of a job. Yet
compassionate and soft when she needs to be. It's in the way she puts a
blanket around a heart attack patient or hugs a rape victim to comfort.
Rogers is one of the many Memphis women who protect us. In this era of
heightened security, women have had a more extensive role in protecting
the United States overseas and at home.
Though their numbers are still small, more women than ever are stepping up
as police officers, firefighters and paramedics. About 16 percent (315) of
Memphis's 1,900 police officers are women. Of the city's 1,426
firefighters and paramedics, just over 5 percent (77) are women.
"There are more of us than ever," said Donna Hulbert, 40. "But it's still
a young man's game."
She was one of the first two Memphis firefighters, a 23-year-old
trailblazing rookie hired in 1987.
In recent years, roughly 6 percent of each new class of 100 Fire
Department recruits are women, said Chief Skeeter Rutledge. Along with a
written test, would-be recruits go through a six-skill agility test that
includes dragging a 175-pound mannequin and lugging ladders and hoses.
Recruits must be able to carry two 43.5-pound water buckets 200 feet and
run a mile in less than 12 minutes. There are no quotas: Those with the
highest combined written and agility test scores get tapped for six months
of training before being commissioned.
Some days Hulbert feels like a beat up old football player. The work just
takes a toll on the body. Ex-military and a former college basketball
player, she keeps fit by running and lifting weights. And after 17 years
of fighting fires, Hulbert has had plenty of highs and lows. There were
the times early on when she'd been assigned a new detail and the male fire
fighters' faces would just fall at the sight of her.
Then there was the day the department lost two of its own in a fire. That
same day Hulbert's youngest son, Dalton, 7, realized he could lose his
mom.
Hulbert was scooping chocolate mint ice cream on that sweltering June
afternoon when the alarm screamed at the Frayser firehouse. It was her
40th birthday and her husband, retired firefighter Dorsey Bailey, and her
two boys surprised her with a cake on the Ping-Pong table behind the
engine.
Hulbert hustled her fit 5-3 frame into her gear and hopped in the truck.
Bailey decided to treat the kids and follow behind on what was likely a
routine call for mom. There was just a tendril of smoke at the Family
Dollar store on North Watkins when the truck arrived - perhaps another
overheated air-conditioner motor. The next few hours were a blur.
One minute Hulbert's company was hiking toward the back of the store in
search of the source. The next minute she couldn't see her hand in front
of her face.
With a crowd of onlookers, her boys, Cody, 9, and Dalton, saw the store
erupt in flames. The roof collapsed, and two firefighters died in the
blaze.
Hulbert believes she got out in time because she'd straddled the hose and
used it to find her way.
She can still hear Dalton's screams. Seven months later, her youngest is
still clingy. After last summer's blaze, Dalton begged, "Momma, please
don't go back to work." Hulbert reassured him she'd be OK, but she had to
be firm. A desk job would kill her. She was built for a higher purpose.
"Baby, it's my job."
Vicki Woods was a
paramedic for the city when the fire department started requiring that all
firefighters and Emergency Medical Technicians be cross-trained in the
mid-'90s. "I was pretty much afraid of that," said Woods, 43.
She went through about six weeks of training before injuring her shoulder
lifting a ladder. "To me it was a lot more physical than I was used to,"
said Woods, who is 5-1 and just over 100 pounds. Now she's an
administrator for the emergency medical dispatchers, reviewing taped
dispatches and teaching.
But fighting fires isn't only about strength, said Fire Department Lt.
Kenny Lepard. "There's going to be cases where a female isn't going to be
able to do what a man can do," Lepard said. "But at the same time, just
being big, bulky and strong doesn't make you a good fireman."
He couldn't imagine the department without women in the ranks. Especially
on calls involving rape or sexual assault. "I'm a
pretty rough dude," Lepard said. "So it's nice when I'm on the
scene and in a bad situation and I have a female with me. They take care
of it."
He works with Rogers, who was a paramedic in Chicago for eight years
before moving to Memphis.
Rogers knows that when she's in the ambulance she'll find people at their
most desperate hour. It may be her third cardiac arrest run of the day,
but it's likely this victim's first ever.
"Touching the heart of another: That's what keeps me coming back," said
Rogers, an Army veteran.
At 5-2, Rogers is always the smallest firefighter on the scene, earning
the nickname "Little Bit" by the guys.
The way Rogers sees it, when you finally get that nickname, that's when
you know you've been accepted.
- Aimee Edmondson: 529-2773
Copyright 2004, commercialappeal.com - Memphis, TN. All Rights Reserved.
|