by Lesley Karonika
When God made paramedics, He was on His sixth day of overtime, An angel appeared and said,”You are doing a lot of fiddling around on this one.” God said, “Have you read the specs on this order?”
“A paramedic 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 the homes the health inspector wouldn’t touch, and not wrinkle his 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 know 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,” God replied, “It’s the three pairs of eyes a medic has to have.” “That’s on the standard model?” asked the angel.
God nodded. “One pair that sees open sores as he’s drawing blood, always wondering if the patient is HIV positive.” (When he knows and wishes he’d taken that accounting job.)
“Another pair here in the side of his head for his partner’s safety. And another pair of eyes here in front that can look reassuringly at a bleeding victim and say, ‘You’ll be alright ma’am, when he know it isn’t so.’”
“Lord,” said the angel, touching His sleeve, “rest and work on this tomorrow.” “I can’t,” God replied. “I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound drunk 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 Paramedic very slowly. “Can it think?” she asked.
“You bet,” God said. “It can tell you the symptoms of 100 illnesses; recite drug calculations in its sleep; intubate, defibrillate, medicate, and continue CPR nonstop over terrain that any doctor would fear….and it still keeps its sense of humor.”
“This medic also has a phenomenal personal 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 the read in the daily newspaper how Paramedics were unable to locate a house quickly enough, allowing the person to die. A house that had no street sign, no house numbers, and no phone to call back.”
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the Paramedic.
“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.” God replied, “It’s a tear.” “What’s the tear for?” asked the angel.
“It’s for bottled-up emotions, for patients they’ve tried in vain to save, for commitment to that hope that they will make a difference in a person’s chance to survive, for life.” “You’re a genius!” said the angel.
God looked somber.
“I DIDNT’ PUT IT THERE.” He said.
I am not the author of this poem. And I could not find who authored it. But it speaks about my husband, the medics I fly with on the helicopter; Those that work on the ground for 24 hour shifts. It was pressed on my heart by our Lord to share it here on my blog because I know so many of you will relate.
I got the poem from a Bible, The EMS Bible. This bible was given to my husband as gift from our pastor. During a time of trouble and illness, I had turned to our pastor for help. Prayer is powerful and it works. That is what I know. My husband was going through some kind of illness that can only be explained by only one thing; which is what his mind, body, and spirit has endured for 20 years in EMS. I want to someday share that story here on my blog in hopes that it will help one of you. Point out some things that may not be obvious to you but relevent. Or maybe a paramedic’s spouse will be prepared to intervene for their loved one. Because it defiantly took me by surprise that day. The day our lives changed. Because what happened to my husband could happen to yours.