Firefighter Medical Clearance & Disclaimer Of Liability Pdf: Fill & Download for Free

I wouldn't think so.All the guys and gals on our ambulance and fire crews know us very well and by first name basis. They work the same crappy schedules we do and deal with the same “less-than-stellar" individuals that we do. Aside from the little rivalries between most every emergency response agency (I'm talking about you fire guys. 😒🙂) we all get along pretty well for the most part. They call us to clear scenes or deal with unruly patients, and we call them to obtain medical clearances or check out the guy that we just blessed with the spicy sauce and/or zues's lightning.We also often have each other's back. Out here where I work, I'm often working graveyards solo with my nearest backup police unit being 30 to 45 minutes away. Many a times I've been in some all-out drag down fights at 4 in the morning with people hopped up on meth, booze, and adrenaline. Anybody that's been in a fight can tell you that even a couple minutes gets you gassed out pretty quick. Seeing a firefighter or ambulance crew roll up that ain't afraid to hop in on the action is a god send when that fight hits the 5 minute mark.

Yes you can. Once you get accepted you go for a physical examination and you list allergies. You passed the physical (in New York state that includes blood work, a pulmonary fit test commonly called the PFT, an ekg, vision test, SCBA fit test, and a urinalysis.After you get your medical clearance which clearly outlines on a wallet card your medical limitations such as no SCBA, light duty, exterior only, full interior etc.On any call you have a right to ensure your own security and safety as well as any duty officer or command staff that is present but they should well be aware of any pre-existing condition that while not threatening, may cause a problem IE in the event of anaphylaxis.After all of that you go off to the academy and learn a myriad of things depending on your geographical location and the regulations of that particular area.Commonly, proficiency in knowledge regarding hazardous materials, safe vehicle operation, fire behavior, knots and safety systems, an appropriate level of emergency first aid training, building construction, basic fire science, incident command system classes, prevention of firefighter injury, fire scene awareness and arson investigation etcAfter graduation from the academy whatever that may entail you are officially sworn in and put on probation for a certain length of time. After your probationary status expires you have the unrestricted title of firefighter including any other duties that you may have to undertake including but not limited to emergency medical technician, paramedic, engineer / driver / chauffeur etcThen there are frequent trainings and physical fitness requirements, drills, equipment checks and so on.It may seem like a lot and it is but it's not as bad as it sounds. Most of it or at least a majority is basic common sense, there's a lot of technical detail involved but it all starts with the basics and you can expand in there to such teams like RIT (downed firefighter rescue, “The Best of the Best”), high angle or technical rescue teams (such as repelling and collapses), hazardous materials teams, fire investigation (sometimes called arson investigation or more properly origin and cause), Marine firefighting, wildland firefighting, swiftwater rescue, ARFF (airport rescue firefighter) and so on.If you make any special needs known, they will be accommodated for as much as possible without risking the safety of others or jeopardizing your ability to do the job.I hope that answers your question if I can help anymore please feel free to reach out.

I avoid them. Being recognized for being a vet, or when I was active-duty, a soldier, has always given me mixed emotions. On the one hand, it feels good, and makes me feel proud. At the same time, the recognition makes me uncomfortable, even feel ashamed, especially when labels like “hero” are used. I’ll tell you a story (I have put the initials of actual soldiers in bold, and linked to any acronym or obscure name used, if it needs further editing for clarification, please let me know):When I took leave from Iraq around November of 2007, while at the Orlando International Airport, a man with a small boy stopped me. He pointed to the Combat Action Badge pinned to my chest, telling the boy, “Son, you see that badge, right there? That means this man is a hero.” Even now I get emotional typing this.I earned that badge the morning of May 5th 2007, my now ex-wife’s 20th birthday while acting as a Combat Engineer in a Route Clearance Package. We were conducting route clearance in a Buffalo. They look like this:I was seated in the rear (3rd row) right seat of the vehicle. In the middle (2nd row) left seat, sat SGT (E-5) DA (that is the 5th enlisted rank in the U.S. Army, ”sergeant” with the initials DA, to protect his privacy) who spotted an Explosively Formed Projectile (EFP/also called EF Penetrators). EFPs cause a slug of metal to travel at Mach-Jesus!, penetrating basically anything. I saw one go through BOTH sides of an M1 Abrams WITH reactive armor.After DA spots it, he proceeds to start yelling “EFP”, followed by “Go, go, go…” However, at the same time, SGT JK (a.k.a. sergeant with the initials JK), who was operating the Buffalo claw from the front right seat, began telling the vehicle behind us to “Stop.” In the Buffalo, this sounded like the same person saying “stop” and “go”. This caused SPC (E-4) SH (that is the 4th enlisted rank of the U.S. Army, with the initials SH), our driver to alternate between pressing the gas and break as hard as possible.After what seemed like hours, though could not have been more than 2 seconds, SGT JH, who was seated to my left joined in on DA’s semi-hysterical exclamations about an EFP. At which point, I looked over to my left and, saw JH, up out of his seat, pushing towards the front of the Buffalo. I looked to the soldier in front of me in the middle-right seat, my squad leader, SSG (E-6) GF (that is the 6th enlisted rank in the U.S. Army, with the initials GF, I nicknamed him “GareBear” . He stayed in his seat. This made up my mind, I turned my head to the right and began searching out my window for secondary IEDs, just like I had been trained.I remember feeling intense anger. I was acutely aware of the fact that I was a BRAND NEW soldier, at 19 years old, with fewer than 9 months in the Army and less than 2 months in combat, and I was, in my mind, dead. I was pissed, because route clearance was NOT what I wanted to do. I always wanted to do infantry stuff, like I was trained. If I died, I expected to die in a glorious firefight. Instead, I was stuck in Iraq when I wanted to be in Afghanistan, less than 6 months after my 19th birthday, doing route clearance, and here I am dying from an explosive, without ever even seeing the enemy. For a brief second, I remember feeling contempt for JH, considering him a coward for abandoning his position. In reality, I should have been pissed that none of them told me to get up and move to the front.The stutter-step dance move of the Buffalo continued for another couple decades before, finally, the hollow sounding thud of an EFP explosion, a sound I was hearing for the first time, echoed to my rear left. I ran my hands over my body to make sure I was intact. The adrenaline was pumping, and my body felt numb.“Is everyone okay?” GF asked while I simultaneously said, “I can’t feel my legs.” GF turned and looked at me, his eyes wide.“No, they’re there. Just, WOO! Ya know?” He rolled his eyes then turned back. We all handled the post-blast SOP (standard operating procedures; we did things like take pictures, and collect evidence, etc.) nicely, and continued on.Then, as we continued, another similar hollow thud emitted from the front right of the vehicle. Dust was everywhere. We couldn’t see more than 2 or 3 meters in front of our vehicle.“One- two has been hit.” (“1–2” is the call sign of the second squad leader in the first platoon, it also applies to the vehicle they are in command of. In this case, 1–2 was a man, though it can be a woman, or any mix of the two #feminism, #somewomenbelongincombat) They were in the vehicle in front of us in an RG-31, which looks like this:We pushed through the dust (it was not smoke in the air, as very little smoke results from explosions, and it dissipates very quickly, despite what you may see in Hollywood) until we were close enough to see the rear door of 1–2 (the RG-31 commanded by 1–2) open, with SSG JW, hanging out the back of the vehicle, waving us to come to him, indicating he had casualties. However, right as our driver, SH, hit the air break on the Buffalo, the RG-31 (1–2) lurched forward, causing the several hundred-pound armored door to close on JW’s foot.The RG-31 crept forward through what seemed like the abyss, as our visibility was so severely reduced. Instinctively, SH followed the RG-31, until it veered off to the left, into a field of sewage, almost rolling over, as it drove off the road (seriously America, be thankful we don’t have fields of raw sewage that you can accidentally drive off into). Immediately the Buffalo was put in park, and we all dismounted.As I ran towards the hit RG-31, I saw SGT AB jump out of the rear of the RG, with a confused look on his face, then walk off. We would later be chastised THOROUGHLY for this because AB had just suffered a pretty nasty concussion, and was later found wandering up and down the convoy, before being corralled into a CASEVAC vehicle and taken back to the FOB.I was the second to arrive at the rear of the RG, right as “1–2 actual”, SSG JM, flopped out of the back of the RG-31 into the sewage. I didn’t know it at the time, but his back had been broken, and his buttocks had some nasty burns. I grabbed his ballistic vest and started to pull, while he screamed, kicking his legs to help me pull him. Then, SGT JA appeared and grabbed JM, helping me pull him. Almost immediately after that, SGT XA (his first initial is not “X”, I just can’t remember it) came over and, pushed me out of the way, saying, “I got this.”Wanting to be useful, I ran back to the vehicle, right as SSG GF was forcing SGT BA’s unconscious, legless body out of the rear. As he did, he fell on top BA, seemingly kickstarting BA’s breathing. I grabbed BA by the vest and his ripped pant leg while someone else grabbed his other side, and right as we were about to lower him onto a spine-board, JH came over and replaced me. So, again, STILL wanting to be of help, I grabbed the front right corner of the spine-board, and right when we were about to lift, JA came over and replaced me.I am glad I was replaced, because what happened next, while humorous in hindsight, I did not want to be a part of. Someone counted down from 3, and on 1, the right side lifted, while the left side stayed still. The result was BA being dumped face first into the sewage.Then I asked GF how I could help. He told me to pull cover, so I did. After about 5 minutes, I was told to go back to the Buffalo. While sitting in the “Buff”, I heard a machinegun let off. 1–3 was engaging (that is, firing at) someone to our left. SPC (possibly PFC at the time) JM engaged someone who ended up being a high-value target, killing him as he filmed our response to their attack. Shortly after, I heard a loud noise to our right and saw sparks flying 20–30 feet in the air. I was later told it was “Crazy Horse,” Apache Gunships, engaging hostiles to our right.Finally, I was told I could be useful again. We needed to get the equipment out from the RG-31, and bring it back to the Buff. Trip by trip, with arms full of bloody equipment that was plastered with particles of flesh, I emptied the RG. My team leader, JK, said that each time I came back, I was just covered in more and more blood.On one of my trips, I carried a cooler containing both of BA’s legs. I carried it back to 1–3. I forget who I gave them to, but I remember JM’s face when he asked me what was in the cooler. (WHAT’S IN THE BOX!?!?!?). I remember cracking up, and exchanging a morbid smile with JM. JM would be the one I joke with some 2 years later as we surveyed the carnage of an IED on a civilian vehicle.The whole ride “home” was silent. When we got back, our 2nd platoon cleaned off all of the bloody equipment so that our platoon could go to sleep. I remember the next morning all the ants eating the little flesh particles that 2nd platoon cleaned off the equipment. We were all relieved to learn when we woke up that BA was still alive, and most importantly, his prominently endowed member was still in tact. Army medics: taking care of what’s important since June 14th, 1775.The point of the story is to explain why I never felt like a hero. I never did anything heroic. I was a 19 year-old, scrawny 6-foot 180-pound boy who happened to be there when a good man lost his legs (he did survive, and even competed in the X-Games).The amount of respect and adoration given to my by complete strangers, has always humbled me. So, as far as privileges for vets goes, I deserve no special treatment, because I am no hero; however, I have known heroes…