Beelzebub
Registered User
got this email from a friend, thought it was a good read.
I wish you knew
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>
>
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>-I wish you could know what it is like to search a burning bedroom for >trapped children at 3 AM, 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 6 in the morning 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 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 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, >squad, 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 extric ate a girl of teenage >years from the remains of her automobile. "What if this was my daughter, >sister, my girlfriend or a friend? What was her parent's 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 know how it feels dispatching officers, firefighters and >EMT's out and when we call for them and our heart drops because no one >answers back or to here a bone chilling 911 call of a child or wife needing >assistance.
>
>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 understand why we tend to be so cautious and "unfriendly" >when we pull you over. And I wish you would not ta ke it so personally
>
>I wish you could understand the pain of watching someone who wears the same >uniform being laid to rest after being killed in the line of duty.
>
>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 there in time >of crisis, or creating order from total chaos.
>
>I wish you could understand why we hate it when you look at us and tell >your little child, "If you don't behave, I'm gonna give you to that >policeman." Great, now they're scared of us. So who do you want them to >call when things go bad?
>
>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 >ey es 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 CPR done on >him as they take him away in the Medic Unit. You know all along he did not >have his seat belt on. A sensation that I have become too familiar with.
>
>I wish you could understand the terror that courses through your veins in >the seconds before you make a life and death decision because someone you >probably have never met is determined to kill you.
>
>I wish you could understand the frustration of arriving at a call and >finding someone with a gun, knowing that you have milliseconds to decide if >you need to shoot or not, while after the fact, your actions will be >debated for months by many who have never even held a gun.
>
>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..
>
>I wish you could though.
I wish you knew
>
>
>
>
>-I wish you could know what it is like to search a burning bedroom for >trapped children at 3 AM, 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 6 in the morning 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 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 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, >squad, 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 extric ate a girl of teenage >years from the remains of her automobile. "What if this was my daughter, >sister, my girlfriend or a friend? What was her parent's 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 know how it feels dispatching officers, firefighters and >EMT's out and when we call for them and our heart drops because no one >answers back or to here a bone chilling 911 call of a child or wife needing >assistance.
>
>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 understand why we tend to be so cautious and "unfriendly" >when we pull you over. And I wish you would not ta ke it so personally
>
>I wish you could understand the pain of watching someone who wears the same >uniform being laid to rest after being killed in the line of duty.
>
>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 there in time >of crisis, or creating order from total chaos.
>
>I wish you could understand why we hate it when you look at us and tell >your little child, "If you don't behave, I'm gonna give you to that >policeman." Great, now they're scared of us. So who do you want them to >call when things go bad?
>
>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 >ey es 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 CPR done on >him as they take him away in the Medic Unit. You know all along he did not >have his seat belt on. A sensation that I have become too familiar with.
>
>I wish you could understand the terror that courses through your veins in >the seconds before you make a life and death decision because someone you >probably have never met is determined to kill you.
>
>I wish you could understand the frustration of arriving at a call and >finding someone with a gun, knowing that you have milliseconds to decide if >you need to shoot or not, while after the fact, your actions will be >debated for months by many who have never even held a gun.
>
>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..
>
>I wish you could though.
