America experienced a
tragedy this week. No, it wasn’t another school shooting, although it seems we
can’t go a day without some crazed individual exorcising his demons by
inflicting mass casualties. This tragedy occurred when nineteen firefighters
lost their lives battling a wildfire in Arizona. The wind shifted and they were
gone.
Firefighter deaths are
nothing new. Each year, the U.S. Fire Administration produces grim statistics
that track the nature of line-of-duty deaths. Most of these deaths are not
caused by fire; burns and suffocation make up a small percentage of
firefighter fatalities. The majority are cardiac related, which is not
surprising. Responding to emergency calls is incredibly
stressful. For thirteen years I was jolted awake every third night of my life
to answer calls throughout the city of Orlando. And let me tell you, going from zero to sixty when
you’re fast asleep is no picnic. Eventually you become conditioned, but it still
takes its toll.
Fighting a building fire is also incredibly stressful. But wildfires make building fires seem like child’s play. For one thing, you’re working outside in the heat, usually in the middle of summer when these fires are most active. And compared to the vastness of a forest, firefighters are simply specks on the landscape. We can only imagine how hard the members of the Granite Mountain Hotshots were working when they were overcome.
As an Orlando
firefighter, I fought few wildfires. Most of the city has been paved over, so
wildfires are few and far between. But it only takes one to realize they truly suck. With building fires, you can apply aggressive tactics to
bring them quickly under control. With wildfires, it’s you against Mother
Nature. And we all know how hard it is to control a female. Any female.
Fortunately (for them), firefighters are usually on the treating end of fire injuries and deaths. As a paramedic, I treated some horrific burns. From the young man who accidently doused himself with gasoline then walked too close to an acetylene torch, to a suicidal HIV patient who cut his wrists and then lit himself off, the burned patients from my past flash before me whenever I hear about a death by fire. They’re not pretty.
As homeotherms (nerd-speak for warm blooded creatures), we rely on heat to maintain our body’s metabolism. But it’s a fine line between too much and too little. The average core temperature is 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit (that’s 37 for those who uses the Celsius scale: aka, the rest of the world). Temperature typically fluctuates about two degrees throughout the day, and age plays a role, with the elderly typically running about a degree cooler than their younger cohorts.
But what happens when temperature runs amuck? As you shall see, either extreme can spell death.
Thermoregulation - the
ability to maintain a constant body temperature – begins in the brain (which is
ironic, since it’s the first organ to suffer when our temperatures spike). The hypothalamus,
considered the body’s thermostat, is made up of a cluster of neurons that are
highly sensitive to changes in temperature, which it gauges via receptors in
the skin and mucous membranes (cool video!). When the core temp plunges, it kicks the body
into gear in an effort to produce heat. Thus, your muscles contract
involuntarily (shivering) and your body responds behaviorally – by rubbing your
hands, moving your feet, and seeking an external heat source. Responses can
also be gradual, as when summer wanes to fall. The hypothalamus triggers the
release of hormones, which over time increase metabolism, subsequently increasing the amount of heat produced by the body.
Should these mechanisms fail or be unable to compensate (as when you’re plunged into freezing water) hypothermia can set in quickly and consciousness is lost within fifteen minutes. As the core temperature dips below 95 degrees F, the body’s regulatory systems cannot keep up and the internal organs pay the price. The circulatory and nervous systems quickly fail and the body eventurally expires.
At the opposite extreme, as in fever, that same thermostat in your
head triggers dilation of the vessels beneath the skin (thus the flushed face
of a febrile child) and sweating intensifies. Under extreme conditions, say running in the summertime heat, cramps can set in, especially in the legs. This can progress to heat exhaustion, which is accompanied by pale, moist skin, nausea, and vomiting. If left unchecked (body temp
above 106 degrees), heat stroke ensues leading to seizures, coma,
and eventual death.
Every moment, your body is working; working to keep you warm, working to keep you cool. It’s the body's innate ability to self-regulate that allows humans to occupy some of the harshest regions on Earth, like the Chukchi of Siberia or the Basarwa of the Kalahari.
But those brave men who died last Sunday are a reminder of the fragility of our bodies and how susceptible they are to the brutal force of fire. For all it took was a change in the wind and a few fleeting moments. And a week later, America still mourns.
In
Memory
Firefighter deaths are
nothing new. Each year, the U.S. Fire Administration produces grim statistics
that track the nature of line-of-duty deaths. Most of these deaths are not
caused by fire; burns and suffocation make up a small percentage of
firefighter fatalities. The majority are cardiac related, which is not
surprising. Responding to emergency calls is incredibly
stressful. For thirteen years I was jolted awake every third night of my life
to answer calls throughout the city of Orlando. And let me tell you, going from zero to sixty when
you’re fast asleep is no picnic. Eventually you become conditioned, but it still
takes its toll.Fighting a building fire is also incredibly stressful. But wildfires make building fires seem like child’s play. For one thing, you’re working outside in the heat, usually in the middle of summer when these fires are most active. And compared to the vastness of a forest, firefighters are simply specks on the landscape. We can only imagine how hard the members of the Granite Mountain Hotshots were working when they were overcome.
As an Orlando
firefighter, I fought few wildfires. Most of the city has been paved over, so
wildfires are few and far between. But it only takes one to realize they truly suck. With building fires, you can apply aggressive tactics to
bring them quickly under control. With wildfires, it’s you against Mother
Nature. And we all know how hard it is to control a female. Any female.Fortunately (for them), firefighters are usually on the treating end of fire injuries and deaths. As a paramedic, I treated some horrific burns. From the young man who accidently doused himself with gasoline then walked too close to an acetylene torch, to a suicidal HIV patient who cut his wrists and then lit himself off, the burned patients from my past flash before me whenever I hear about a death by fire. They’re not pretty.
As homeotherms (nerd-speak for warm blooded creatures), we rely on heat to maintain our body’s metabolism. But it’s a fine line between too much and too little. The average core temperature is 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit (that’s 37 for those who uses the Celsius scale: aka, the rest of the world). Temperature typically fluctuates about two degrees throughout the day, and age plays a role, with the elderly typically running about a degree cooler than their younger cohorts.
But what happens when temperature runs amuck? As you shall see, either extreme can spell death.
Thermoregulation - the
ability to maintain a constant body temperature – begins in the brain (which is
ironic, since it’s the first organ to suffer when our temperatures spike). The hypothalamus,
considered the body’s thermostat, is made up of a cluster of neurons that are
highly sensitive to changes in temperature, which it gauges via receptors in
the skin and mucous membranes (cool video!). When the core temp plunges, it kicks the body
into gear in an effort to produce heat. Thus, your muscles contract
involuntarily (shivering) and your body responds behaviorally – by rubbing your
hands, moving your feet, and seeking an external heat source. Responses can
also be gradual, as when summer wanes to fall. The hypothalamus triggers the
release of hormones, which over time increase metabolism, subsequently increasing the amount of heat produced by the body.Should these mechanisms fail or be unable to compensate (as when you’re plunged into freezing water) hypothermia can set in quickly and consciousness is lost within fifteen minutes. As the core temperature dips below 95 degrees F, the body’s regulatory systems cannot keep up and the internal organs pay the price. The circulatory and nervous systems quickly fail and the body eventurally expires.
Every moment, your body is working; working to keep you warm, working to keep you cool. It’s the body's innate ability to self-regulate that allows humans to occupy some of the harshest regions on Earth, like the Chukchi of Siberia or the Basarwa of the Kalahari.
But those brave men who died last Sunday are a reminder of the fragility of our bodies and how susceptible they are to the brutal force of fire. For all it took was a change in the wind and a few fleeting moments. And a week later, America still mourns.
Andrew Ashcraft, 29
Robert Caldwell, 23
Travis Carter, 31
Dustin Deford, 24
Christopher MacKenzie, 30
Eric Marsh, 43
Grant McKee, 21
Sean Misner, 26
Scott Norris, 28
Wade Parker, 22
John Percin, 24
Anthony Rose, 23
Jesse Steed, 36
Joe Thurston, 32
Travis Turbyfill, 27
William Warneke, 25
Clayton Whitted, 28
Kevin Woyjeck, 21
Garret Zuppiger, 27
