I wish you could

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 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 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 erieness of being able to see absolutely nothing in dense

smoke - sensations that I have become too familiar with.

I wish you could understand how it feels to go to school

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-treating? 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 little 5 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 engine,

the driver with his foot pressing down hard on the pedal,

my arm tugging again and again at the air horn chain,

as your feel 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 your forever to get here!"

I wish you could know 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 opened

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 I nearly did not come back from the last call.

I wish you could feel my 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 know the physical, emotional and

mental drain or 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, or

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 at your arm and asking, "Is my 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 this kind of life,

you will never truly understand or appreciate who I am,

what we are, or what our job really mean to us.

I wish you could...

Author Unknown

In loving memory of

Ronald P. Watson February 25, 1971- February 15, 1996