I Wish You Could...
I wish you could see the sadness of a business man
as his livelihood goes up in flames, or that family returning home,
only to find their house and belongings damaged or lost for good.
I wish you could know what it is like to search a
burning bedroom for trapped children, flames rolling above your head,
your palms and knees burning as you crawl, the floor sagging under
your weight as the kitchen below you burns.
I wish you could comprehend a wife's horror at 3
a.m. as I check her husband of 40 years for a pulse and find none. I
start CPR anyway, hoping to bring him back, knowing intuitively it is
too late. But wanting his wife and family to know everything possible
was done to try to save his life.
I wish you knew the unique smell of burning
insulation, the taste of soot-filled mucus, the feeling of intense
heat through your turnout gear, the sound of flames crackling, the
eeriness of being able to see absolutely nothing in dense
smoke-sensations that I've become too familiar with.
I wish you could understand how it feels to go to
work in the morning after having spent most of the night, hot and
soaking wet at a multiple alarm fire.
I wish you could read my mind as I respond to a
building fire "Is this a false alarm or a working fire? How is
the building constructed? What hazards await me? Is anyone
trapped?" Or to an EMS call, "What is wrong with the
patient? Is it minor or life-threatening? Is the caller really in
distress or is he waiting for us with a 2x4 or a gun?"
I wish you could be in the emergency room as a
doctor pronounces dead the beautiful five-year old girl that I have
been trying to save during the past 25 minutes. Who will never go on
her first date or say the words, "I love you Mommy" again.
I wish you could know the frustration I feel in the
cab of the engine or my personal vehicle, the driver with his foot
pressing down hard on the pedal, my arm tugging again and again at the
air horn chain, as you fail to yield the right-of-way at an
intersection or in traffic. When you need us however, your first
comment upon our arrival will be, "It took you forever to get
here!"
I wish you could know my thoughts as I help
extricate a girl of teenage years from the remains of her automobile.
"What if this was my sister, my girlfriend or a friend? What were
her parents reaction going to be when they opened the door to find a
police officer with hat in hand?"
I wish you could know how it feels to walk in the
back door and greet my parents and family, not having the heart to
tell them that I nearly did not come back from the last call.
I wish you could feel the hurt as people verbally,
and sometimes physically, abuse us or belittle what I do, or as they
express their attitudes of "It will never happen to me."
I wish you could realize the physical, emotional and
mental drain or missed meals, lost sleep and forgone social
activities, in addition to all the tragedy my eyes have seen.
I wish you could know the brotherhood and
self-satisfaction of helping save a life or of preserving someone's
property, or being able to be there in time of crisis, or creating
order from total chaos.
I wish you could understand what it feels like to
have a little boy tugging at your arm and asking, "Is Mommy
okay?" Not even being able to look in his eyes without tears from
your own and not knowing what to say. Or to have to hold back a long
time friend who watches his buddy having rescue breathing done on him
as they take him away in the ambulance. You know all along he did not
have his seat belt on. A sensation that I have become too familiar
with.
Unless you have lived with this kind of life, you
will never truly understand or appreciate who I am, we are, or what
our job really means to us...I wish you could though.
—author unknown
