I couldn’t sleep. again. So I was just cruising the net and found a group on Facebook about the PHI crash last year. On its “wall” was the following prayer/poem. That reminded me of another story I had read. So I went and found it.
As I perform my duties Lord
Whatever be the call.
Help to guide and keep me safe
From danger big and small.
I want to serve and do my best,
No matter what the scene.
I pledge to keep my skills refined,
My judgment quick and keen.
This calling to give of myself,
Most do not understand.
But I stand ready all the time,
To help my fellow man.
To have the chance to help a child,
Restore his laugh with glee.
A word of thanks I may not hear,
But knowing is enough for me.
The praise of men is fine for some
But I feel truly blessed,
That you, Oh Lord have chosen me
To serve in EMS
And just one more
When the Lord made EMTs, he was into his sixth day of
overtime when an angel appeared and said,
“You’re doing a lot of fiddling around on this one,”
And the Lord said,
“Have you read the specs on this order?
An EMT has to be able to carry an injured person up a wet, grassy
hill in the dark, dodge stray bullets to reach a dying child unarmed, enter
homes a health inspector wouldn’t touch, and not wrinkle their uniform.”
“He has to be able to lift three times his own weight, crawl into wrecked
cars with barely enough room to move, and console a grieving mother as he is doing CPR on a baby he knows will never breathe again.”
“He has to be in top mental condition at all times,
running on no sleep, black coffee, and half eaten meals.
And he has to have six pairs of hands.”
The angel shook her head slowly and said, “Six pairs of hands…. no way.”
“It’s not the hands that are causing me problems,” said the Lord,
“It’s the three pairs of eyes an EMT has to have.”
“That’s on the standard model?” asked the angel.
The Lord nodded. “One pair that sees open sores as he’s controlling bleeding and asks the patient if they may be HIV positive,”
(When he already knows and wishes he’d taken that accounting job)
“Another pair here on the side of his head for his partner’s safety.
Another pair of eyes here in front that can look reassuringly at a bleeding
victim and say ‘You’ll be all right ma’am’ when he knows it isn’t so.”
“Lord,” said the angel, touching his sleeve,
“rest and work on this tomorrow.”
“I can’t,” said the Lord, “I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound
drunk out from behind a steering wheel without incident and feed a family of five on a private service paycheck.”
The angel circled the model of the EMT very slowly,
“Can it think?” she asked.
“You bet,” said the Lord. “It can tell you the symptoms of 100 illnesses,
recite drug doses in its sleep; defibrillate, medicate, and
continue CPR nonstop over terrain that any doctor would fear…and still it
keeps its sense of humor.”
“This EMT also has phenomenal control.
He can deal with a multi-victim trauma, coax a frightened elderly person to
unlock their door, comfort a murder victim’s family, and then read in the
daily paper how EMTs were unable to locate a house quickly
enough, allowing a person to die.
A house which had no street sign, no house numbers, no phone to call back.”
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the EMT.
“There’s a leak,” she pronounced. “I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model.”
“That’s not a leak,” said the Lord, “It’s a tear.”
“What’s the tear for?” asked the angel.
“It’s for bottled-up emotions, for patients they tried in vain to save, for
commitment to hope that they will make a difference in a person’s chance to survive, for life.”
“You’re a genius,” said the angel.
The Lord looked somber, “I didn’t put it there.”