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... | 
