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Trading the bus for the bike

The baby was named Hilltop Charlie because that's where he was born - on a hilltop, into the care of paramedic Jim Gibson as the ambulance made its way to town.

The baby was named Hilltop Charlie because that's where he was born - on a hilltop, into the care of paramedic Jim Gibson as the ambulance made its way to town.

Gibson, the soon-to-be retired father of three adult children, said memories of the many births he attended in the northern community of Williams Lake will stay with him.

"I choose to remember delivering babies - even if they make you cry," he said with a smile of remembrance, his voice choking up.

Thirty-six years in a profession often dealing with tragedy says something about the physical and mental stamina of Gibson. He's a glass-half-full kind of man and prefers to share a laugh than the tragic stories from his work.

"No two days are the same. No two ambulance calls are the same," Gibson said. "You had enough days in between [shifts] to regain your balance, a little bit more time to put things into perspective."

He told the story of being called to a home where a resistant potty training toddler had pulled the potty seat over her head, become stuck and was throwing a tantrum. He laughed remembering how many adults it took to hold the little girl still while they freed her.

Gibson spent 26 years in Williams Lake where calls often took him to fly-in posts or on long drives to meet vehicles bringing patients in from remote communities. Gibson said on a winter day in minus 30-degree weather, those long drives in the middle of nowhere made him cautious and appreciative.

"There were 14-hour night shifts. I could be on a drive out to Anahim Lake to meet someone, sitting there at 3 a.m. with the northern lights," he said.

The job required Gibson to save lives and often be the person survivors, victims and families leaned on for support in their time of need.

"You're there at a crisis in a lot of people's lives. You're giving more support, like a crib death. I was there for the family," he said.

Gibson said paramedic work was hard on family life. His first marriage suffered the consequences, and he said making time to be active in his children's lives was tricky.

"I was the Scout master, but I could only attend half the time," he recalled.

He said he worked his schedule in order to drive bus for his kids' school field trips where he could double as the first aid responder. He also devoted time to public education and enjoyed going into schools to demystify what happens if an ambulance is called to a scene so children would not be afraid.

"Kids will ask you questions straight up, and if you give them straight answers, it's amazing what they absorb," Gibson said.

Gibson took pleasure in hunting and fishing and paddling in the abundant wilderness of the area. He said he dealt with accumulated stress by participating in outdoor pursuits.

"It's probably one of the reasons I've been able to last this long," he said, adding many paramedics don't last more than 10 or 15 years before retiring.

Gibson eventually moved south to take positions that allowed him more reasonable work hours and finally made his way to the Sunshine Coast in 2003 in part, because he and his partner have family nearby.

He recently took a headlong fall while having fun with his grandson at a playground and ended up being a patient himself. Several stitches and a black eye later, Gibson was ready to keep having fun.

"I'm going to be in Pulling Together July 4 to the 10. We're [RCMP and First Nations] paddling from Vernon to Penticton," he said. "My son is the Delta police representative." Gibson is also heavily involved in dragon boat racing, "I'm one of the galley slaves," he joked. He is also a steersman for an outrigger team.

Gibson plans to remain available for some shifts as he transitions to retirement. The on-going paramedic strike is upsetting to him but has not tarnished his view of things.

"It would be nice to have things looking more hopeful," he said. "You can focus too much on these things and get bitter or concentrate on the people you help."

Dressed in a khaki shirt with trout printed all over it and a first aid kit strapped to the handlebars, Gibson hopped on his motorcycle with plans to trade in the ambulance for a day in his belly boat fishing and living the good life of retirement.