"A Cry For Help"

 The dispatcher radioed that there was a request for me to pick up at a local restaurant this afternoon. I often get  requests during the week from different people,so I had no idea who I was picking up.
When I arrived it turned out to be an old buddy of mine,a fellow I met when I first moved to town,some 20 odd years ago.
I usually run into Jake(not his real name) while sitting in the plaza waiting for a dispatch,he wanders over with his best four legged friend "Charlie" and we shoot the breeze for a while. Jake is on permanent disability,he suffers from seizures,the results of a street fight with 5  young punks about six years ago now.
Jake, like a lot of us, has had a pretty rough life,seven years of it, in and out of jail. But that and an addiction problem are long past . He has played it straight for several years now. Still a tough looking dude with a lot of ink,he is in his forties now and a pretty mellow guy,one that would give you the shirt off his back.
As he got in my cab today,I realized I hadn't seen him for a week or so,I asked him where he had been.
He told me he had just been released from the psychiatric ward in a city hospital. He had attempted suicide a few days ago,ingesting a 150 prescription pills. He was found by his landlord laying unconscious  on his kitchen floor. He was in a coma for two days,and at one point the doctors apparently thought they had lost him. Thankfully that was not the case.

Jakes attempt at ending his life shook me to the core.Here is a friend that I see almost everyday,some one that over the years has shared his life story with me , as I have shared mine with him. But I never saw this coming.I knew he struggled at times with living alone and not being able to work,but I obviously never saw the depth of his emotional pain.
When I asked him today why he had done it,his reply was that "he couldn't take it anymore".Life had beaten him down and "he was unable to get any help". Professional help in the form of psychiatric care or even properly trained mental health therapists, is sorely lacking in this town. 
Jake is now under a psychiatrists care ,and it appears that he will finally be getting the help he needs, but having come close to losing his life in order to get it is appalling! 

"I'm sixteen and can do what I want"

Last evening I was dispatched not to an address, but the intersection of two dirt roads out in the country.
I am not fond of these type of dispatches-because with no actual address its a crap shoot whether there will actually be anybody there. But there she was a young girl standing on the side of an open field-cell phone in hand.
 She jumped in the back blurted out an address in town,and continued a rapid fire conversation on her cell with what I assume was one of her girlfriends.Talking away on her phone-like most teenagers do-like she was the only one in the car,nothing subtle with kids,
I usually turn a deaf ear to babbling teenagers engaged in conversation-but this one caught my attention.
She had just had an argument with her Mom about her skipping classes. Her failing grades at school and her failure to do any chores while her Mom was away on business for two days.From what she was saying I guessed  this argument ensued in the kitchen and her Mother had thrown and broken a glass on the floor.I assume out of sheer frustration.

 The girl continued on with a taunting tone about how she had run up to her room.Made up her bed like she was under the covers and then slipped out the back door to call a cab.

"I would love to see my Mom's face when she realizes I 'm gone" she exclaimed to her friend. "My Mom's a fucking psychopath- throwing a glass like that." "I'm sixteen and can do what I want-there is nothing they can do about it it" she went on.She was apparently going to couch-surf now for the rest of the week- end and maybe even stay away for a week.I cringed at the thought of her poor parents not knowing where she was.I was going to suggest to her that what she was doing was not the brightest idea.But I doubted she would be much interested in another opinion from an adult-so I kept quiet.

As I dropped her off at her friends house and drove away,I kept thinking about what she had said about her failing grades an skipping so many classes,and her problems at home.God I thought ,sixteen years old,she is still just a baby in the scheme of things.What will her life be like as she reached maturity I wondered.I consoled my-self with the thought that this was probably just her time of teen age rebellion.I hope so-we have enough lost teenagers living on the street.  

Walking The Walk-Rather Then Just Talking The Talk.''

Today I was dispatched to pick -up at one of our  seniors residences. On arrival I saw two personal support workers{P.S.W} standing by a very elderly woman in a wheel chair.Of course my first reaction was "oh great this is going to be a time consuming pain in the ass".(A piss poor attitude from the get go.)
 One of the psw's opened my passenger door and told me "we have to get the lady in".You have to get her in, not me, I replied.Furthermore I told her we have a wheel chair van available and that's what you should have booked.The psw claimed she wasn't aware of that-and asked if we could give it a go with my car.
 Go ahead I mumbled, as I engaged myself in a rather juvenile "shit fit".I sat there fuming as they struggled with this poor woman-who had to weigh all of ninety pounds.I turned the meter on as they jostled her around, trying to figure out the best way to get her in the car.Christ almighty I thought-and "these two, do this for a living!"Mean while the old woman was having a shit fit of her own.She was shaking like a leaf and voicing in no uncertain terms her lack of confidence in the two psws ability to get her into the cab, in one piece.(so that made two of us)
 When they did finally manage to get her in,she was pretty much horizontal across my front seat.I managed to get her vertical enough -and thus off my lap-to get her seat belt fastened.I then put her wheel chair in the trunk, tied the lid down-and we were off.As we drove I asked the psws "what in God's name was this visibly fragile woman doing going out".She has a dentist appointment at the mall-came the reply.
 Apparently she had not been out of bed for a year-the dental visit was an urgent matter.As we continued on towards the mall-I started to have a case of the guilt's.I was thinking about all the times I preached the golden rule to my friends."No one gives a shit about anyone other then them selves" I can also often be heard lamenting.
 I thought of my late mother-fragile herself in her last years.What would she think if she saw how I treated this old woman- with such impatience and indifference.I was feeling rather ashamed of my behaviour as we pulled into the mall.
 Wanting to rectify this-I told the psw's to leave the lady-and that I would get her out, and into her chair.
I took on a completely different attitude as I opened her door."Listen darl'in" I told her, "I am a big strong guy and I want you to just put your arms around my neck-like you were giving me a big hug".'Well you do look strong she replied"-''you won't let me fall will you?"Not a chance I told her-"I will hold on to you like it was our last dance"! This made her smile as she reached out and timidly put her arms around me.I gently lifted her up-she panicked a little-and I reassured her that she was safe in my arms.I slowly got her turned around and was able to get her comfortably into her wheel chair.
 As the psw's  prepared to wheel her into the mall-I told them that if the wheel chair van was not available when they were ready to go back-to just ask for me and I would come back for them.Which I ended up doing a couple of hours later.With a little attitude adjustment I was back "treating people the way I would want them to treat me".

Domestic Violence

I just had the unfortunate experience of overhearing a domestic in the apartment directly across the hall from mine.If it had been just a case of two adults yelling at each other,I would probably not have gotten involved. But upon hearing the voice of a child screaming for someone with a phone,I bolted from my chair.I opened my apartment door to see a little boy about five or six years of age.He was hysterical, crying and asking if I had a phone.A female about 25 was standing with him.I asked what was going on-she replied that her male partner had struck her-and she had struck him back.The male was heading out of the hallway down the stairs at this point.The little boy kept yelling to me that the man was bleeding.I asked the woman if indeed that was the case,she replied yes,he is bleeding from the head.I called the police who thankfully, arrived with-in minutes of my call.

  Everyone concerned was taken in by the officers,and I don't believe the male party was seriously injured.But what a horrible situation for a child to witness.I found myself unduly shaken by this incident.It no doubt triggered some memories of my own dysfunctional childhood.

I share this incident because no where near enough is being done to address domestic violence.

We have in this town a women's shelter-but no avenue of help for the men involved.Locking them up in jail and forcing them to take an anger management course is not the whole answer.This course of action-from my own personal experience in talking to men who have been involved in domestic violence-is rarely effective.

What in my opinion is needed, is a shelter of some kind, where these men, prone to violence,can get professional help.Whether it be court ordered or a voluntary admission.This very dangerous issue of domestic violence must be addressed.Not just at the punitive level-but also at a therapeutic level.These men are acting out this way for a reason.We as a society owe it to our children to delve deeper into this issue.  

Finger Print This!

It is time for the annual renewal of my cab license.Our town requires a criminal record search,a drivers abstract, and two passport size photos -to be submitted with the renewal application each year.
I thought I would get the process started today-as it is due by the end of this month.So I stopped in at our local police station to get a criminal record search done.Much to my surprise when I also asked for a vulnerable sector verification to be included(as I have for the past 16 years) I was told that things in that area had changed.The women at the counter informed me that the RCMP (our equivalent to the American's FBI) the policing body that handles these searches -now requires applicants for this search to be finger printed.I was told that  this pertains to men over a certain age who have a birthday matching that of a convicted-but since pardoned offender.So she ran my birth date on the computer,and sure enough my birthday came up as a match to some  criminal or worse yet some pervert! I balked at this and strongly exclaimed to her that "I have never committed a crime in my life-let alone been convicted of one!"
That may be true she replied "but this new policy was put in to effect to catch those offenders who may have changed their name and not notified the RCMP". This is bloody ridiculous-I have never changed my name-and this farce of a policy smacks of a police state! It also smacks me large as discrimination based on  my age and gender.  I'll be damned if as "an innocent tax paying citizen" I am going submit to having my finger prints taken to appease the police-because I share a birthdate with some scum bag.This has to be a violation of my rights under the "Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms" which I quote here~"Part one  "15. (1) Every individual is equal before and under the law and has the right to the equal protection and equal benefit of the law without discrimination and, in particular, without discrimination based on race, national or ethnic origin, colour, religion, sex, age or mental or physical disability."
As I told the women at the police station I will forgo that part of the search for now-as I am not sure that its even required by the towns by-law department.But more importantly I want to challenge this new policy. Fortunately for me my oldest brother is a top notch human rights lawyer-who has his own law firm out on the west coast.I called him immediately after leaving the police station.He agreed with me that this new policy appears to be discriminatory.He has asked that I fax all the information regarding it to his office and he will look into it further.Stay tuned. 

The New Years Eve Leftovers.

Since I took a pass on working New Years Eve this year-I got roped into working New Years day.
While waiting for my first call this morning,one of our female drivers (I'll call her Candy) came over the radio.She needed help getting a guy who had passed out on her-out of her cab.The dispatcher asked for a volunteer to go give Candy a hand in trying to wake this dude up.
So with nothing else to do I went up to the address to see if I could help.
I recognized the fellow who was laying back in her front seat.He was a semi regular fare when I was working the night shift.He is one of the few good drunks you get on nights.He is never combative or abusive and always paid his fare with a nice tip on top.But man he was out cold in her cab.Candy and I tried everything to wake him up.I finally reached in-grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, and shook him till his "chops flopped"-all to no avail.So I finally suggested to Candy that the only thing she could do was call the police.Candy had already been on the road for 14 hours-and was not impressed that she had to deal with the police.Something she had already had to do three times in the past week-tis the season.
When the police officer arrived he didn't have any more luck waking the guy up then we did.
Finally the officer put on his gloves-went over to a snow bank-made a snow ball-and stuffed it inside the guys shirt collar! What a hell of a way to get woken up-but as the officer said-"it may be cruel-but its effective"!He was damm straight on that-it did the trick- and the fellow finally came too.As I left the three of them there to sort out the fare-I thought "now there is a humorous story for my blog".
It has been a lot more pleasant this past month or so(with the exception of the bloody traffic) now that I am on the day shift.But alas not much happens that is worth blogging about-but then I guess life is all about trade offs.

"My Way Or The Highway"

Back in the early days of my driving career I was a Transport driver.I was married at the time with a young family.My former wife and I had just purchased our second home-with a considerable mortgage payment to meet each month.So in order to make ends meet-along with my full time job as a truck driver-I started driving highway coach part time on weekends.(Similar to the one pictured above.)
Some may think the incident I am about to share is more nasty than humorous-but none the less its a true story-and I can laugh about it today.
I was dispatched out of the coach yard to pick up a group of tourists at a hotel in the suburbs of Toronto.They were visiting from Montreal and were enroute to see a Blue Jays game at the Sky-dome in downtown Toronto.I had 47 people on board as we left the hotel.About halfway down the highway the coach started having mechanical problems.First the turn signals stopped working-then as we got closer to the downtown core-the power steering went on it.
So here I am on the highway trying to change lanes in this big coach with no signals-then trying to weave through downtown side streets with what was now "arm strong" steering.This was not only dangerous-but also a royal pain in the ass.
I managed to get the coach into the stadium and after all the passengers were off-I went in search of a pay phone.
I reached the company mechanic- who was at home on call at the time.After explaining my situation he calmly told me to bring the coach back and get another one.What?? I exclaimed-the companies yard is a good hour an a half drive from Toronto!
I told him to go get me another coach and bring it down to the city-and he as the "mechanic"-could limp this one back.Thats the way its done in the trucking business I informed him."This is not the trucking business"was his reply.I was now livid-and doing my best to hold my tongue.
"I'll think about it I told him"- and hung up the phone before I lost it on him.


I walked around the stadium a bit trying to decide what I was going to do.Actually I had already decided what I was going to do-"tell him where he could shove his bus"!I was really just walking around trying to figure out how to tell my wife-that I had quit another job.Due to what seemed an incurable streak of impatience- mixed with a short fuse-I had literally quit dozens of jobs during those years.This was not going to go over well at home-that was a given.
So I climbed back into the coach and headed for the yard-doing my best to get there before anything else went wrong with it.It was well after dark when I arrived.I just backed it into the waste disposal area-drained the toilet- and parked it in an empty slot.The office was in darkness-the staff had long gone-and other drivers were out on trips.So with no one to bitch to I just got in my car and headed home.Leaving 47-soon to be- pissed off French men at the sky dome in Toronto -wondering no doubt what the hell happened to their transportation back to their hotel.The phone was ringing off the hook for hours after I had gotten home.I told my wife not to bother answering it-as I had no intention of going back.I never did find out how they got back.I can only assume the mechanic was summoned to get off his comfy couch at home-get in another coach -and go and pick them up.Makes me think he should have done it my way in the first place.Needless to say that part time job was history. Probably didn't do much for the Francophones opinion of anglophones either. ;)