New Year's Eve in San Francisco. The year 2010 came really fast. Got up the nerve to call my friend who rode the tailboard with me on Engine 7 many years ago. He is dying of cancer now: a slow death and he is in pain and knows the end is near. He was always a man of courage who took things on head first. He is dealing with this the same way. What do you talk about with someone who is so near to death? He is not the first of my fire department buddies to die of cancer.

There is a long list of men who have gone before him, many who worked at our Station 5. Station 5 is in an industrial area of San Jose. It is two-story and before diesel exhaust removal devices, fumes went right up the pole holes to the dorms. It is located between two major freeways and next to a plant that makes concrete pipes for sewers and water mains. Lots of dust in the air. We also had numerous chemical manufacturers before Haz mat was recognized. Before hot, warm, and cold zones, we just went in. One place made pesticides, and you would see dead insects on the floor during inspections.

Ed was my driver on Engine 23, he did his time at 5, as did I. So did my friend who is now dying. Ed retired shortly after I did and was soon diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He fought a good fight and died about a couple years later. His wife gave me his leather gloves that I wear to this day to remind me how lucky I am and how I miss Ed.

I could go on with other names but you get the idea. Those of us who made it know the price others have paid. All firefighters who die do not get to go heroically, nozzle in hand. Far too many of us succome to the hidden killers that stalk us for years after we have stopped answering the call.