CHILDREN A BIG REASON WHY 'METH' IS A FOUR-LETTER WORD

As a firefighter, I see many tragedies.

I see destruction of houses, cars and lives.

From each call I take a little something with me. Some good. Some
bad. As a member of the Spokane Fire Department Hazardous Materials
Team, I have been on so many meth decontamination calls that they
have blurred together.

But there is one call I will never forget. We arrived at the
residence with the police and drug task force team already at the
scene.

It seemed to be the usual meth call. We asked how many males and
females, and we were told two females.

As the only female on the shift for our Hazmat team, I had the job of
suiting up and doing the female decontamination. We set up our
privacy shelter and shower, and I suited up in a big green suit and a
mask to protect me from the meth-making chemicals.

It was then that I learned one of the females was the 4-year-old
daughter of one suspect.

I felt my face go red and my throat tighten.

I can look past the fact someone wants to be involved with drugs and
ruin their own life. But to put an innocent little person in a
situation that is dangerous -- I cannot excuse that. I saw the mother
and daughter come out of the back of the patrol car, the mother in
handcuffs, and make their way over to the shower. The mother seemed
jittery and annoyed.

The little girl was crying. The mother was uncuffed and I told them
to step into the shower and disrobe.

It was 17 degrees out. Even with a water heater and warm air heater
it was still chilly.

The girl cried as she was washed with no comforting words from the
one person she needed to hear them from.

The little girl was very skinny and the mother held her close as they
showered. I wondered if that was to keep her daughter warm, or
herself. I tried to talk to the girl but she couldn't understand me
through the mask. When they were done they stepped into the privacy
tent. I placed a towel on the girl's head and around her while her
mother dried them off. All we have to dress people in is jail
coveralls so I put her in them. They were so big I wrapped the arms
completely around her and pulled them up to her chest.

I couldn't help but wonder who else had worn these.

The mother was huddling with the girl and I had to pull her, crying,
from her mother's arms. I placed a dry towel on her head and handed
her out the tent door into another stranger's arms. That was the last
I saw of her. I will carry this memory in my heart for the rest of my
life.