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 3a.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 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...I wish you could though.

-author unknown-