the sadness of a business man as
his livelihood goes up in flames, or
that family returning home, only too
find their house and belongings
damaged or lost for good.
I wish you could know what
it is like too 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 3a.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 too try too
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
too 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
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.
SENDING IT ON. APPRECIATE AND SUPPORT THE LOCAL
VOLUNTEER FIREFIGHTERS , POLICE OFFICERS & EMS
WORKERS IN YOUR AREA. ONE DAY THEY'LL PROBABLY BE
SAVING YOUR PROPERTY OR YOUR OWN LIFE.
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