Silence is broken when the tones drop
man I gotta pee but there’s no time to stop.
There’s no hesitation we hit the door running
We do this with pride and not for the money.
Eights, Twelve’s or Twenty-Fours,
leave the station exhausted yet we’re glutton for more.
We know there is hurt when the squelch breaks
Yet for us it’s a chance to help by choices we make.
Dispatchers, our lifeline, tell us where to go
what we are getting into we never really know.
There is so much sickness, death, blood and dying
sons, daughters, and parents left crying.
We do our best to fight the reaper
he’s like a terrorist cell that’s a sleeper.
Just when you think a life saved, we won!
Lights out in an instant, their life is now done.
Grab the paddles, the epi, the tube if you will
you ask of your partner, and think this is no thrill.
When TV shows make glamour of this gore
I ask a small favor, in this I implore
Please strive to keep this loss in perspective
We must treat this as a cop or detective.
Like on every crime scene evidence is left or taken
a piece of us we give of that be not mistaken.
A strong sense of duty has placed some in danger
by those high, drunk, hell bent full of anger.
Ambo crashes, needle sticks, back injuries, infectious disease
recognized hazards of the job we can agree.
Violent attacks on staff occur so frequent,
in medicine I’ve found it’s the dirty little secret.
Your safety comes first no rule is more high
Yet our culture tells us that fact to deny.
We care for others and place them before us,
a habit in breaking will mean no loss of trust.
To stay healthy and help many more
know the time to leave, to hit the door.
“You call we haul” may be a joke among peers,
but the toll on our bodies visible after the years.
Like I said before, it’s not a job it’s a calling
just don’t lose yourself in that rig while you’re hauling.
-Kip Teitsort 2/24/2015
