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“I Wish You Could See”
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 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 comprehend a
wife's horror at 3:00 in the morning 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.
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, squad, 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 or family, not having the heart to tell them that I nearly did not come back
from the last call.
I wish you could know how it feels dispatching an officer, fireman
and EMT's out and when we call for them and our heart drops because no one answers back or to
hear a bone chilling 911 call of a child or wife needing assistance.
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 of 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.
-author unknown-
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