I delivered
a baby on the ambulance gurney;
I baptized a newborn whose life ended before
it began.
I hugged a
frightened child;
I was kissed by an intoxicated old man.
I held the
hand of a teenage girl as she delivered a 3-pound baby;
I listened to the
mournful squeak of a stretcher being wheeled to the morgue.
I gently
stroked the fragile hand of a 102 year old woman;
I hesitated at the
outreached hand of a 300 pound prisoner in handcuffs.
I trudged
for 10 hours in my boots;
I had a teenager vomit on those same
boots.
I rubbed the
feverish body of a 14 year old cancer patient;
I cradled the ice-cold hand
of a child hit by a car.
I was
referred to as "an angel of mercy;"
I was called every four-letter word in
the book.
I always see
fear in people's eyes;
I never see joy or relief.
I listened
to a tormented voice pleading for the preservation of life;
I heard the
threatening words of one bent on self-destruction.
I spoke with
the girl who was hoping she had the flu, not a pregnancy;
I see innocent
people hurt or killed by a drunk driver, and the drunk driver is never
hurt.
I marveled
at the genius of a cardiologist;
I saw a 12 year old boy who shot himself in
the head, and the gun was still loaded at his feet.
I talked in
circles with a schizophrenic person;
I was horrified at the battered body of
a child whose parents were incapable of love.
I gazed at a
horribly burned body;
I shuddered at a cold water drowning.
I see women
beaten up by their spouses, but they never press charges;
I walk into houses
and do CPR with family watching over my shoulder in tears.
I arrive at
serious auto accidents, and the first words I hear are, "Am I going to
die?;"
I find out hours later they did die.
I listen to
the repeated question, "Why?" from a family devastated by death;
I search my
soul for the answers to their question.
This is just
another day in EMS.
