Heroes
| When a man becomes a fireman his greatest act of bravery has been accomplished. What he does after that is all in the line of work. . . Firefighters do not regard themselves as heroes because they do what the business requires. -Chief Edward F. Croker, NYFD 1899-1911 Substitute the title "paramedic," or "police officer" in the above and the words are just as true. As the daugher of a paramedic, I grew up around the unsung heroes of our society - emergency personnel. Their peculiar lifestyle is woven into the fabric of my childhood. |
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Late night radio calls. Endless shifts. Medical Jargon. Balloon animals made out of tourniquets - they're all a part of my memories. Even on the holidays, our door was always open to those who were working (regardless of whether or not my mother was). We have countless photos of uniformed medics and police officers sitting around our table, radios set next to their salad plates, ears listening for the next call.
It wasn't unusual for me to come home from school to find a police car or a paramedic truck parked in the driveway, or to hear the single whoop of a siren in the night as my mother's friends drove past our house. There was almost always someone in uniform standing in the kitchen, drinking coffee and talking to one or both of my parents. They were like family in every sense of the word.
And yet, for all that familiarity, I never forgot that those people, my mother and our family friends, were risking their lives for us every single day. I never forgot that the next time the phone rang, it could be news of a police officer who'd been shot in the line of duty or a paramedic who'd been hit by a car while working at an accident scene. (Yes, my family got both of those calls though mercifully neither were my mother)
The sound of sirens always makes me pause to think about not only the victims who warranted the sirens, but also the people who are racing beneath them.
It's not something you dwell on, but nobody wants to get that phone call.
The Fireman (pictured above) called me early this morning, as I was on my way to work.
Me: Where have you been? I worry when you disappear for more than a few days.
He: Oh, I'm ok. Now.
Me: Now?
He: I was at the hospital
Me: Do you mean that you were working extra shifts? Or that you were a patient?
He: Well we were fighting this car fire...
Me: Patient, then.
He: I was standing in the wrong position when the bumper exploded off the car; it hit me full force.
Me: What's the damage?
He: Six broken ribs and a collapsed lung.
Me: Well, that could have been much worse.
He: Whatever, I'm fine. When I pulled on my buddy's leg and he saw me gasping on the ground, he put a mayday on the radio: firefighter down. I felt like such a jackass. I mean, he didn't really need to do all that.
Me: Yes he did. You'd have done the same for him.
Though my heart lurched in my chest at the thought of him laying on an intersate gasping for air, for him this was all in a day's work. The only thing he's upset about is the fact that he was forced to take a few weeks of medical leave.
That's why emergency professionals are heroes - because it is not in their nature to be heroic.
Yes, there are a few bad apples here and there, but overall? These people aren't in it for the glory, they're in it because they can't imagine doing anything else. Because they are courageous enough to deal with gruesome sights from which we turn away. Because they are brave enough to run towards a fire while the rest of us run away. Because they are undaunted by those who consider themselves beyond the law.
Think about that next time you see a fire truck zoom past in traffic (and for heaven's sake, pull to the right), or the next time you hear an ambulance wailing in the night.
And maybe next time you come across a paramedic, or a fire fighter, or a police officer?
Say thank you.
