By Anne Gagliano
Firefighters must be able to adapt to any situation if they are to do their job. They have to be quick thinkers, problem solvers, flexible, creative. They must have an expansive skill set—skills that range from handling people to handling buildings. And they must have physical strength, strength of mind, and strength of character. They dance with death, move with grace and fluidity to pull of amazing rescues, adapting to new steps and relearning old ones over and over again. To live with such a person—one who exhibits incredible versatility–a spouse must be able to do the same: dance the dance of life at a breathtaking pace of ever-changing directions. There is no such thing as control at a fire scene, and the same is true in the firefighter’s home.
I never know what is going to walk through that door after a 24-hour shift. Will my husband be well- rested, cheerful, and ready to face the day? Or will our plans be drastically altered because of a tough night? Will we be going on a family outing with Dad or without him? Can he pick up the kids or will I have to? I have to be ready for anything. Our direction changes on a dime, time and time again. A four-day break with plans for a house project could suddenly become days filled with doctor’s visits due to injury.
The trip was planned and paid for, well in advance: a long-overdue Disney vacation, a family favorite. The hotel was reserved, the plane tickets purchased, the park passes ordered, summer clothes purchased and packed, time off arranged; all was ready. Then, change of plans, Mike tore his Achilles tendon coming off a fire truck. We didn’t know if he’d ever walk again, let alone make it to Disneyland. Would he be permanently maimed, unable to do his job? What was to be a joyous occasion suddenly turned into a time of extreme angst. That is typical for the firefighter family; anything can and does happen to our beloved warrior on whom we depend.
Up until the last minute we didn’t know if we were going or not, but Mike got the go-ahead, and we hauled our wounded warrior around Disneyland in a wheelchair. We made it an awesome trip in spite of our concerns for him; while there, we even got the joyous news that he’d finished number one on the promotional list, which meant he was now a lieutenant! Our trip was filled with lots of laughter and jokes–jokes like “That’s a heavy baby in that stroller” and “You ain’t got no legs, Lieutenant Dan”(from Forrest Gump). Adaptability in this profession is required for the whole family; we must have courage and a sense of humor to handle all the curve balls that come our way.
Mike in a wheelchair at Disneyland with our son Michael in 2002.
Nothing is simple for the firefighter; everything is extreme. The same is true for the spouse. Mike’s highs and lows affect me directly; I have to adapt on every level. I want control; I want to be able to plan a trip, I want to be able to plan a holiday, I want to be able to just plan my day. But I can’t; nothing is ever set in stone around here. So what have I had to do? Adapt, again and again and again. The definition of our family life is “Controlled Chaos” or, in other words, “Anything Goes.”
I’ve spent many holidays alone. Most people can spend the evening of Valentine’s Day together but not the firefighter couple, because firefighters work days and nights. Most employees have holidays off, but not firefighters; they work all holidays too. So what do we do, never have Valentine’s Day around here? No, we adapt by doing it the next day if we have to. Same is true for Thanksgiving; we’ve had some turkeys on Fridays and some turkeys on Thursdays. One New Year’s Eve, we kissed each other at midnight over the phone–me from a family party, Mike from the scene of a party-gone-bad that ended with a grisly death. What truly matters is learning to cherish the moment, the sentiment, the precious family event, whenever you can, on the day you can, regardless of the chaotic schedule. We’ve spent many holidays apart, but we’ve still celebrated every single one.
Adaptability must even be applied to the bedroom. And no, I’m not talking about sex, although it’s important to adjust your habits there as well. I’m talking about sleep, just plain old, run-of-the-mill sleep, because even this becomes chaotic for us. Sometimes my firefighter’s in the bed at night, sometimes he’s not. Most couples never sleep apart unless there’s a problem. For us, sleeping alone is the norm, at least 2 to 3 nights a week. Newlyweds have to learn to sleep together; firefighter couples have to learn to sleep together and then relearn to sleep alone; we have to do both, alternating night after night. I’ve had to adapt in many ways in this arena. I’ve had to learn to not be scared when alone, to not react to every little bump in the night. I’ve had to practice staying on my own side of the bed, even when the whole bed is free, because the next night it won’t be. And temperature: We have several layers of blankets because even this varies night after night, not just seasonally. When Mike is there, I need less covers because he’s a source of heat; when I’m alone, I get cold, and so I need that extra blanket. Hot, cold; empty, shared; safe, scared; the conditions vary, so I must be versatile if I’m even to sleep.
The control addict will not survive the firefighter lifestyle; the flexible, agile, adaptable soul will. Be of good cheer, for control is highly overrated; life is truly better when it’s free. Trust me on this. I know. I’ve grown to love chaos; our lives are exciting, never dull—every day is different: We never ever get stuck in a rut. I get to experience the adrenaline of firefighting vicariously through Mike because he brings it home in his personality and in his schedule, and believe me, it’s a sweet rockin’ roller-coaster ride!
Anne Gagliano has been married to Captain Mike Gagliano of the Seattle (WA) Fire Department for 26 years. She and her husband lecture together on building and maintaining a strong marriage.
