Multiple Casualty Incidents, Part IV: CERT Training

One morning, while my 15-year-old son, Juan, was getting ready for school, I popped a cheese bagel into the toaster for him. Then I went to take a shower.  After soaking in the hot water for a few minutes, I heard a smoke detector go off on the other side of the 2,500-square-foot house. Right away, I discounted the shrieking alarm, running through a check list in my head; surely it was the steam from my son’s bathroom causing the audible commotion.                  

No sooner had I placed conditioner in my hair when I heard my son screaming, “Fire! Fire! Fire! Mom, come quick! There’s a fire!” Again, I discounted what I heard. I couldn’t see or smell any smoke. I thought my son was joking until he barreled through the master bedroom door, adjacent to the bathroom, hurling his screaming, breathless, frightened voice above the shrill of the smoke detector.

“Mom! I’m not kidding. There’s a fire in the kitchen!”

“So? Go and put it out! I’m coming!” I conceded impatiently, thinking that since I just left the quiet kitchen not five minutes before and since I hadn't been cooking anything on the stove, there couldn't be a fire. Complete denial.

"Hustle, mom. I don’t know what to do!” my son yelled, frantically. Right then, I sensed he was truly panicked, thus, I became panicked, too. I didn’t even turn the shower off. Drenched, I threw on my robe and gingerly ran across the tile floor, slipping and falling, not once, but three times.

Uninjured, I fumbled my way to the kitchen. Indeed, there was a fire originating from the toaster resting underneath the cabinetry. A thin layer of black smoke filled the area, shrouding the glowing, orange flames feeding on the wood. I was surprised by the intensity of the radiant heat. Confined to one section, the torch-like plume was rapidly moving toward the ceiling. 

Now, here’s the part warranting confession and one of the many reasons I don’t cook very often: I'm not very patient or mindful of food left to simmer. I'm easily distracted. How dangerous is toasting a cheese bagel which lodges between the heating elements, anyway? The fire started because the continuous heat ignited the oil in the layer of cheddar cheese topping the trapped bagel.

In humbling addition, I’m a retired firefighter/paramedic/911 dispatcher with the City of Stockton Fire Department. I’m a licensed RN. I’ve extinguished countless types and sizes of fire and rendered care in many tenuous, rescue situations. However, there I stood, bewildered, unable to decide a course of action. I wasn’t expecting a fire in my home, first thing, on a beautiful, weekday morning.

“Call 911! Turn on the hose in the back yard and bring it through the sliding door! Open all the windows!” I commanded Juan, now calmly standing next to me while I issued forth a couple more, totally ridiculous ideas that I'd rather not discuss.

He said, “Mom, you’re a firefighter, remember?” Oh, yeah. In that fleeting moment, oven mitts came flying across the kitchen landing at my feet. An organized checklist appeared rote in my previously scrambled thoughts. Composed, I unplugged the toaster and threw it in the sink, dousing it under the faucet. Bad, bad toaster. Drown, scoundrel!

When I removed the stainless steel appliance from under the cabinetry, I removed the fuel of the fire; very basic. Subsequently, I checked for extension inside and behind the cupboards; there was none. We opened up all the windows, ventilating the house while we finished getting dressed. What just happened? An urgent situation that quickly dissipated right along with my pride.

I'm happy to report there was no damage other than the trashed toaster, a small, charred section of a cabinet door and the smell of smoke lingering in the kitchen for a few days afterward. While making the minor repairs, the remnants of that isolated, five-minute incident were etched into my long-term memory. I couldn’t believe I discounted the alarming smoke detector in the first place.

Not discounting participation in the Murrieta Fire Department (MFD) CERT (Community Emergency Response Training) in early March, memorable career fires and rescues popped on to the video screen in my mind. It occurred to me that in the mire of innumerable, emergency situations, we were rarely the first aid on the scene.

What I mean is this: think of newsreel footage of John Homeowner watering down his rooftop with a garden hose as a looming wildfire threatens everything in its path; the partygoers who place a wet washcloth on the woozy guest’s forehead; the mom who attempts cooling measures for her feverish infant; the complete stranger who begins CPR; motorists who stop to help at vehicle accidents; sport coaches who bandage sprains; U.S. Airways Captain Chelsey Sullenberger and the flight attendants buoyed on a disabled aircraft, along with 155 passengers, after an emergency landing in the Hudson River, all of whom survived.

My observation doesn’t detract one iota from the EMS system as the victim, the bystander, the family member, the friend, the clinic, the neighbors usually rise to the occasion in rendering FIRST aid. 

In dialing 911 where Emergency Medical Dispatch has been implemented, dispatchers walk the reporting party through step-by-step, first-aid instructions while professional rescuers are en route. When they do arrive, they’ll begin with basic intervention as well.

The basic premise of the CERT training belies access to immediate, infinite, EMS manpower during a local, multiple casualty incident (MCI) or a disaster of epic proportion, which will temporarily overwhelm all people involved, all resources needed, perhaps re-routing major thoroughfares, all activities of daily living, all communication systems – including cell phones. You've already pondered this to some extent and I realize it doesn’t rest well.

I would also proffer that you know the basics of how to mitigate danger, for example: identifying hazards in your home or workplace; working as a team member within your neighborhood or clubs; participating in basic, emergency training; understanding your capability and limitations as you instinctively do the best you can in unforeseen, extenuating circumstances, even if it may take a few minutes to collect yourself at the advent, while wrestling with denial.

On the advent of Sept. 11, 2001, my husband at the time called to suggest I turn on the morning news. The rolling footage of one, smoldering, Twin Tower in New York City was being replayed, over and over. I discounted, (once again) that I was witnessing the result of an unfolding, terrorist attack. When I saw the second jetliner slamming into the remaining tower, my immediate thought was, ‘Get the people out of the building because it’s going to topple all over the place.’

In 2008, I went to that place in New York City and in walking along the fenced perimeter of the remaining, vacuous pit of Ground Zero, I knew there were thousands of unsung and embattled heroes on that September day. In the tragic wake, the Citizen Corps (CERT) was launched by the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) under the auspices of Homeland Security to better prepare the nation’s communities for effective disaster response.  Why?

Remember, in , I spoke of emergency personnel responding first to size-up (estimating) the gravity of the situation and then triaging (sorting) those things which take precedence and those things which can wait. Therefore, the cold, hard truth remains: During any mega-disruptive situation, you and your family may be apart or you may be together, but you’re on your own for an inestimable period of time before official help arrives. The grace and mercy of neighbors, friends, passersby will prevail. You may be called upon as a Good Samaritan one day.

The free CERT training is good and basic. On the home page of most fire department websites, nationwide, you'll find the CERT logo will link you to a calendar of scheduled classes; in this case, www.murrieta.org/departments/fire .

MFD oversees the practical application of the session with mini-drill scenarios rather than a written, post-test. Who knew the training would be fun and exciting? During the brief, Friday evening orientation preceding the weekend class, Capt. Eric Ballard and Engineer Matt Bentley initiated the student introductions.

Among the willing were many, local married couples and the matriarchs of the respective Iniquez and Vallejo families who drove all the way from Riverside for the two-day collective with their teen boys.

"Things can happen at high school. I want to be helpful. Hopefully, nothing will bring great danger to the campus," said Isaiah Vallejo.

Alba Iniquez said she brought her sons for the same reason.

"Knowing that my boys are familiar with the things taught in this class gives me a little peace of mind. I'm proud that they wanted to come with me," she said.

Two, retired nurses residing in the Spring Knolls Mobile Home Park, as well, a couple from The Colony, represented their disaster preparedness team as the appointed CERT members in their 55+ realm.

Murrieta Calvary Chapel, K-12 school disaster committee, comprised of administrators, the nurse and a few teachers, endeavored to enhance the populous environs by becoming CERT members. Daniel Vazquez, a Cal-Fire volunteer, polished up his rescue repertoire while Chuck Eiland, a retired military man and La Cresta’s resident, ham radio operator, shared more recent war stories involving emergency communications during various brush fires on the plateau.

"The police department and fire department don't share the same radio frequencies, so I got to help the officers with communications by using my ham radio," said Eiland. The two agencies share the central dispatch center which monitors radio traffic and logistics to some degree.

Plateau, campus, workplace, cul-de-sac, home are just a few microcosms in any community which designate the place for CERT members to begin during a crisis situation, small or large.

Our second order of business was organizing five teams of six people each. After selecting a team leader, we had five minutes to confer and complete a project; a collaboration on the construction of a paper column. When completed, it had to stand alone at least two-feet high, for two minutes. The only materials available were some construction and notebook paper, along with two rolls of scotch tape.  Please note the photos of the finished columns, all of which eventually toppled. But that wasn’t the point of the exercise.

“Teamwork, talking it out, trial and error. It’s interesting to see how people approach the project,” said Ballard, who’s handing over the teaching reigns to Bentley in a couple of weeks.

“I always hear a lot of laughter, a little frustration and I see some really inventive stuff,” he said. “People come together with few tools, making something out of nothing. It’s amazing.”   

To be continued…