The Old Timers were right

When I first joined the fire department, I was all geeked up about running out there and saving lives. Who doesn't want to rush in and save the day?

And then the classes and training, all geared towards these worse case scenarios: mass casualty incidents, gun shot wounds, motorcycle versus deer. It gets you all fired up for the big one.

We'd get a call that sounded good. Alright, here's the chance to practice everything we'd trained for!

And we get there, and it's nothing. A mere flesh wound. A "oh help, I've fallen, and I can't get up," kind of thing... Or worse, we get canceled mid-route. That is so insulting... The old timers would say, "Those are the best kind of calls."

I would be disappointed if we didn't get to do something. I mean, really, we train and train and train, and we get called out for this?

Then we got a real one. I don't remember if my first real emergency was a car crash or a cardiac arrest or something else. Whatever it was - it sucked. It sucked big time. It was not fun. And it was definitely not cool. The young girl screaming as we struggled to pull her shattered feet and ankles out from under the crumpled dashboard. The guy gurgling in his own vomit as we preformed chest compressions and tried to ventilate him.

It is not a good time in that situation. You feel sick. You feel like you could cry. You wish you were somewhere else. You wish the ambulance would get here quicker. You wish the paramedic would take over and be responsible. But you can't, and you don't, and you won't. You do the best you can and hope for the best.

When it was all over, it feels exhilarating, and we discuss it in detail. What did we do right? What did we do wrong? Did you see it when...?

And now I realize that the old timers were right.