This kinda says it all...
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
destroyed.
I wish you could know what it is 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 beneath you burns.
I wish you could comprehend a wife's horror at 3 A.M. as I check her husband of
forty years for a pulse and find none. I start CPR anyway, hoping against hope to bring
him back, knowing intuitively it is too late, but wanting his wife and family to know
everything possible was done.
I wish you could know 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, and the eeriness of being able to see absolutely nothing in dense
smoke-- "sensations that I have becomed too familiar with."
I wish you could understand how it feels to go to school or 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, breathing 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 the doctor pronounces dead the
beautiful little five-year old girl that I have been trying to save during the past
twenty-five 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, 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 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 read my thoughts as I help extricate a girl of teenage years from
the mangled remains of her automobile, "What if this were my sister, my girlfriend,
or a friend? What were her parents' reactions going to be as they open the door to find a
police officer, 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 you nearly did not come home from this
last call.
I wish you could feel my hurt as people orally, 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 viewed.
I wish you could know the brotherhood and self-satisfaction of helping save a life
or preserving someone's property, of being there in times of crisis, or creating order
from total chaos.
I wish you could understand what it feels like to have a little boy tugging on
your arm and asking, "Is my mommy O.K.?" Not even being able to look in his eyes
without tears falling from your own and not knowing what to say. Or to have hold back a
longtime friend who watches his buddy having rescue breathing done on him as they take him
away in the ambulance. You knowing all along he did not have his seat belt on --
sensations that have become too familiar.
Unless you have lived this kind of life, you will
never truly understand or appreciate who I am, what we are, or what our job really means
to us...
I WISH YOU COULD!
-author unknown
This article was copied from the website of Fire Chaplain Skip Straus.
With His Permission..........
02/27/2009