Sitting inside some small, stuffy office, shuffling papers around might be all right for some people, but not me. No, I was born to be a fireman. 

I can’t even describe the feeling I get when those tones go off. There’s this incredible rush of adrenaline. Every run is different. Every fire sends your blood racing. The heat, the intensity, it becomes a real part of you. There isn’t a fireman out there who doesn’t love fire. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be on the job. We just hate what it does to the people involved, and what happens to their homes or places of business.

Even before I joined the department, I knew I wanted to be a rescue man. I loved being a rescue man. When the paramedic program first came along, I wasn’t so sure I wanted any part of it. I didn’t see the point at the time. I didn’t know anything back then.

Being a paramedic is so much more satisfying than being a simple rescue man. I’ve been able to help people in ways I could only dream about before. There’s this feeling of total...well, total satisfaction I get when I’ve been able to make a difference. Doesn’t matter if it’s an accident, fire, or a medical emergency. 

That’s what this job is all about – helping people.

Sometimes I’m still in awe of how far the whole department has come just since I took that first class. To be truthful, the fact that the paramedic program came along when it did was just, well, it was fate. Or at least my incredible good luck.

Luck seems to follow me around on the job. Lord knows I’ve been in enough tight places since I’ve joined the department – too many – and always seem to come out in one piece. I guess that does make me lucky, but scraping out of tight situations isn’t what comes to mind when I think of luck.

No, luck for me is having the best partner and friend a guy could ever ask for. We’re nothing alike. He’s married; I’m single. He’s level headed; I have a tendency to react to situations a little more quickly. He’s soft spoken; I’m more outgoing. He’s conservative; I’m, well, I’m not! Doesn’t seem to matter though. We’re alike in the most important ways. We love our job, and we understand each other. We’ve worked together for so many years now that when we’re out in the field, we don’t have all this "you do this", and "I’ll do that" sort of nonsense. We just know what our job is and we do it. 

He’s the type of partner, too, who’s always there when you need him. I’m not the easiest person in the world to get along with sometimes, I admit that, but when I need a friend, he’s there – sometimes whether I like it or not. He might not know it, or like to hear me say it, but I’d give my life for his. I know he’d say the same. The difference is, he has a family to go home to at the end of the day. Me? Well, it’s just me.

I’m not complaining. I like it that way. Oh, I’ve thought about getting married once or twice, and then I came to my senses. Besides, I don’t think I could deal with worrying about leaving a wife and kids behind every time I run into a fire, or crawl under an unstable structure to rescue a victim. I need to be able to focus on what I’m doing and I’m not sure I could do that if I thought that someone was sitting around worrying about every little move I made. I don’t see how my partner does it sometimes. I don’t see how his wife does it – ever. 

In this job, you see first hand how loss affects a victim’s family. I’ve seen it. It’s never easy. I’ve seen family members fall apart on the scene. We try our best to reassure them, tell them everything’ll be just fine, but sometimes there’s just no faking it. Sometimes they hear too much or see too much, and just know.

I’ve seen how tough it is on firefighter’s wives when they’re sitting in the waiting room. Yeah, they know all about the risks when they say good-bye in the morning, but it’s not something anyone ever expects or wants to happen. It’s tough for them. Heck, it’s tough for me. 

That’s why it’s good for me to go home where I don’t have to reassure someone I love that I’m safe. I couldn’t lie to them anyway. It could happen to me, too – at any time. Mostly, I try not to think about it....

If I had to pick the toughest part of the job, I guess I’d have to say kids and friends. Those are the tough ones. 

I’ve responded to calls where it turned out to be a friend who...well, it’s always tough when it’s someone you know. When you go out on a run, you just never know who the victim is until you get there, or if you might know them. You hope not. At the same time, you know that the people you treat are somebody’s friends and family. I keep that in mind when I’m treating our patients. They’re people, not just patients. 

And then there’s the kids.... Those runs bother me the most. I guess it’s the fact that they’re so little and scared and they look at you like you’re a Super Hero or something. We’re not. We’re just doing the job, but they don’t understand that. All they know is, they’re hurt, they’re scared, and you’re some strange guy that comes along at one of the worst times in their lives. Sometimes, I wish...well, I wish that kids were never on the receiving end of our runs. But it does happen, and all too often. 

When we transport a patient to the hospital, we don’t usually see the outcome unless we happen to ask about them. Sometimes we don’t have to ask. The staff fills us in before we get a chance. Once in a while we’re asked to pay a visit to a patient that we’ve brought in. Face it – when we see them they’re usually unconscious, or at best, not thinking clearly. I guess it makes them feel better to thank us for saving their lives. I know it makes me feel better.

That’s what being a paramedic is all about – saving lives. 

But sometimes we can’t – save their lives, that is. That’s when I feel...useless, when we lose a patient, but in this job, well, it’s just goes with the territory. We never give up on any patient, but there are times...times when no one can do anything. Not us. Not the doctors. With all of our equipment, with all of the doctor’s know-how, some things just can’t be fixed. There are times...times that I’m not sure I can do it – to give up on them. I’m just glad it’s never my call. 

That’s when I’m grateful I have a partner that I can call ‘best friend’. He can’t take losing a patient any better than I can, but he’s about the only one I can really talk to about it. I know he’s going through the same thing. I guess that sort of falls under the heading – "you had to be there." It makes me mad mostly. It makes him...quiet. 

That’s another difference between us. Sometimes I wonder why he doesn’t knock me on the head. I have a slight tendency to carry on about things. I do not rant, though. I just...verbalize a lot. I mean, sometimes it just takes awhile to get my point across, you know?

He’s a good listener, my partner. He always seems to know when something’s bothering me even before I tell him. Okay, so I guess I’m not too subtle most of the time. The point is, he listens to me. 

When I think about it, I guess all the guys at the station would listen if something really big was bothering me. Working at a fire station – our fire station – is a lot like living in a family. We live and work together for 24 hours every third day or so. That’s more time than some families spend together. Sure, we give each other a hard time – some of us more than others – but it’s all meant in fun and we know it. When it really counts, on the job, when one of us gets injured...all the jokes, the pranks, the occasional argument, they don’t matter. All that matters is one of us is in trouble and we all pitch in to do what we can. Still, I trust my partner the most. That’s the way it should be.

When things get to be too much, I grab my camping gear and get lost for awhile. Just me and the outdoors. There’s nothing like it. Nature is the best therapist anyway. Fresh air clears my head like nothing else. When I’m alone, and there’s nothing around me but sky and trees, it puts things in perspective. It reminds me of where I came from.

If I want real family time, I know where to find it. I just follow my partner home. His wife is the best cook! Of course, I’d never tell my mom that. She’s thinks she’s the best cook in the world, and she is, right next to my partner’s wife. 

She's pretty incredible too. She puts up with me! My partner and his wife have welcomed me into their home and their family like I’m one of them. Sometimes I do envy my partner a little. If I could find a wife like his, well, maybe I’d change my mind about getting married, but I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon. No, no, no...I don’t see that happening any time soon. Things are great the way they are. I get home cooked meals when I want them. I get his wife nagging at me about the way I eat. I get invited to birthday parties, barbecues, and holidays. I get to play with his kids. And then I go home where it’s nice and quiet.

Those kids of his. They’re something else, too! Their mother says I corrupt them, but she’s just kidding – I think. The kids just think of me as another big kid. I’ve never told them, but they’re right. I have a lot of fun with them. They’re probably the closest thing I’ll ever come to having my own anyway. Maybe that’s why those runs, the ones that involve a child, get to me so much. I’ve caught myself once or twice, wondering...what if? I can’t let myself think like that though when I’m on the job. I can’t afford to. Everyone deserves my undivided attention. 

I suppose, when it comes right down to it, I guess I do have people who sit around and worry about me, and would miss me. The guys, my partner, his wife, his great kids – they’re all family.

That’s what life is all about....

                                                                         John Gage