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 too 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 too 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. But 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 preserving someone's property, or being able to be therein
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...although I wish you could. -author unknown