Column: Lifesaving a Hard Gig to Give Up
It was with mixed feelings that Andrew Gomez turned in his badge and cleaned out his locker on July 31 at age 65.
Salt Lake City was an unscheduled stop for the 350-passenger jet, but the pilot figured he didn't have much choice. A woman on board was clutching her chest, complaining about heart pains. Every second wasted could be critical.
Andrew Gomez rushed aboard with his paramedic gear as soon as the jet pulled into the gate. The distressed woman looked too young to be a heart attack victim -- she was 35, tops. Of Middle Eastern descent, she didn't speak English, but another passenger on board offered to interpret.
"Does she have chest pain?" asked Andrew, checking the woman's vital signs.
"She says her heart hurts," said the passenger. "She says her heart is broken."
"Ask her why her heart's broken," said Andrew. "What is the reason?"
The woman's answer ended up costing the airline thousands of dollars in landing fees and agitated more than a few passengers who would now be arriving in Los Angeles an hour late.
"My heart is broken because I left my family behind to come to the United States," came the woman's tearful reply.
Yet another unpredictable afternoon in the life of a Salt Lake City paramedic.
Andrew smiles as he recalls the story over a Free Lunch of lobster tails and salad at Salt Lake City's Red Lobster restaurant. After more than 37 years as a firefighter and paramedic, he wanted to get together to share a few life-and-death tales and celebrate his retirement.
It was with mixed feelings that Andrew turned in his badge and cleaned out his locker on July 31 at age 65. Although he was eligible to retire and receive full benefits 17 years ago, "I loved the work so much, I couldn't give it up," he says. "There was something about going on a call, knowing you might make a difference. Saving a life is a beautiful thing."
It was 1969 when Andrew scored higher on the firefighters' civil service exam than 250 other applicants and became the first Latino to be hired by the Salt Lake City Fire Department.
During his first six months as a "boot" (a rookie) at Station No. 13 on Parley's Way, he did everything from rescue a cat stuck in a chimney to help put out a five-alarm fire at a Sugar House paint store.
In those days, firefighters didn't make medical calls, but Andrew had taken classes to become an emergency medical technician. In 1975, when the fire department decided to put together a paramedic program, Andrew was in the first crew to be trained.
"People didn't quite know what to call 9-1-1 about at first," he recalls. "We went on a lot of calls for babies with fevers and people with sore throats. But the response time was so much quicker. Right away, it was obvious that more people were surviving. In a lot of cases, just a minute or two made the difference between living or dying."
One of the most tragic calls he went on was in 1978, when all eight members of the Charles Longo family jumped or were thrown off the top floor of the Shilo Inn hotel downtown. Andrew and another paramedic, Reed Morck, are credited with saving the life of Rachel David -- the only survivor.
From shootings and drownings to car accidents and heart attacks, Andrew spent almost four decades as the first one on the scene of bad news. But there were light moments, too.
"Once," says Andrew, "I delivered a baby on North Temple, by the side of the road. After the baby was born, the husband passed out." He pauses and laughs. "So we worked on him, too." Have a story? Let's hear it over lunch. E-mail your name, phone number and what you'd like to talk about to . You can also write me at the Deseret Morning News, P.O. Box 1257, Salt Lake City, UT 84110.
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