The Chaplain's Wish

What We See, You Never Want to See

It's hard to explain to "civilians" what we do. These writings might help to explain things...

"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 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 becomed 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 orally, 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 hold back a longtime 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 have become too familiar.

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...
I WISH YOU COULD!

-author unknown
 

"Not Just Another Day"

The day started off like any other. Who knew that we would look for strength from one another?

Grabbed my gear and jumped in the back,
And started to put on my pack.

The dispatcher came on and said
Oh, I remember so vividly in my head

Flames were visible, with victims trapped,
as I heard her voice start to crack.

In the hall, as we did crawl,
Hoping to hear, "we found them all..."

"...Outside playing with a toy-
One girl, one boy."

Started searching the room,
Knowing they would come in soon.

And as I turned to look away,
I knew this was not just another day.

He held up one finger and we knew -
He held up two, we were through.

In the closet he had found
Two babies on the ground.

And, in the end we will never know
Why the babies had to go.

Up in heaven is where they stay
One of God's little mysteries claimed two lives that day.

- by Elizabeth Workman, FF/EMT

"A Tribute to Two Angels"

The morning was peaceful, as the moon gave way to the sun.

It was going to be a beautiful day,not unlike any other one.

For by days end, two angels would knock on heavens door.

We were busy in our duties, as the tones rang loud and true,

Calling out the engines and tankers, we all had a job to do.

Another house was on fire, someones life would soon be changed,

But what the voice on the radio said next, put our hearts and minds in a strain.

"Two children were trapped," were the words that she said,

As a million and one things raced through my head.

Had they gotten out?  Could we get there in time? How bad was the fire?

...all ran through my mind.

As we went on location, the smoke rolled out the door,

The gates of hell had been opened, as we crawled across the floor.

Looking for someone, that we couldn't even see,

Praying they weren't there, was my hearts crying plea.

Down the hall, from one room to another,

Hoping someone would yell, their both safe with their mother.

We searched every nook and cranny, and under the beds,

Expecting the worse, hoping for the best, in our heads.

I felt my heart drop, as I found what we were searching for,

On top of a pile of clothes, just inside the closet door.

Words can never express the loss we felt that day,

CHAPLAIN SKIP'S NOTE - The tragedy that Rick wrote about actually happened (on 1/26/01).  A 4 year old and a 3 year old were killed.  Many emergency workers are touched this way every day.  Rick wrote the above poem four days after the fire.  By the way, I was there, too.  And, I will never forget it.