I wish you could see the sadness of a businessman 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 you're 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 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 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 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 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 held back a long-time 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 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 means to us.


 Author unknown....