I was too busy during the emergency, and afterward—well, you both had more important matters to attend to. It doesn’t matter whether you live in the Pacific Northwest or Florida, Maine or Kansas City. If your child was taken from you suddenly, there was probably someone like me in attendance who fights fire and delivers medical aid for a living. Chances are, they’ve struggled with the same feelings I struggle with. Here are five things I’d like to tell you. It’s my hope that something I say will make your struggle through grief a little easier to manage.
#1 - Your Child Was Not "Just
Another Patient"
Perhaps you assume that because I’ve seen thousands of patients in my career, I wouldn’t
remember your son or daughter. Not true! Only the loss of a fellow firefighter affects us more
profoundly than a child’s death. When I lose a child in the line of duty, I don’t leave the experience at the station. Your child’s face comes home with me. I see him when I’m fishing, working in my garage, or just drifting off to sleep. I can still recall vividly the hour I spent with a little girl from a car accident
almost fourteen years ago. She has a permanent place in my memory, just like your little one.
(It’s the inability to come to terms with these memories that drives many a firefighter from his or her career. Those of us who are old-timers in emergency medicine have learned to deal with the tragic cruelties of life we must face. Some exercise vigorously. Others, like me, write about our experiences. Sadly, there are some who are unable to cope with the pain and turn to drugs or alcohol.)
#2 - I Did More Than Provide
Medical Care
When I am fighting to save a child, I talk to them. It doesn’t make any difference whether they’re responding or not. I reassure and attempt to comfort them. If they’re awake and very young, I give them a stuffed animal to hold. I do one other thing. I tell them that their mom and dad love them very much. I do this because several years ago, a mother told me "I would’ve given anything to tell my son I loved him just one last time." Since then, I try to tell every child that you, their parents, love them very much.
#3 - I Struggle With Feelings of
Failure and Inadequacy
When a firefighter/paramedic loses a child, he or she may struggle with personal feelings of failure. So often we repeatedly ask ourselves "what if" questions. "What if I’d been at a closer station? What if I’d arrived five minutes sooner? What if I’d tried another course of treatment?" It’s these feelings of inadequacy that often keep a medic from approaching the parents of his patient. If a firefighter seems to be avoiding eye contact, he likely is not only struggling with his emotions, but possibly struggling with the feeling that he has failed. It’s a common occurrence, despite the fact the medic may have performed flawlessly.
#4 - I Grieve With You
Macho as we’d like to portray ourselves, we are by nature a group of men and women sincerely
touched by the sorrow and suffering of others. That’s one of the reasons we are drawn to the fire service in the first place. We have a deep, burning drive to make a difference, to alter tragedy in the making if we possibly can. Maybe it’s because we feel we have an image to uphold. Whatever the reason, we firefighters tend to be good at holding our grief in check until we are alone. We present a tough-as-steel facade and inevitably do our crying in the station’s hose tower or the compressor room
where no one can hear us.
#5 - I’m Available to Answer
Questions
So often there are procedures or treatments you may not understand. They are almost always done for a very good reason, and with your child’s best interest in mind. Almost without exception, the firefighters and medics who fought to save your child would be happy to answer any questions you may have. We also need to be informed when we unknowingly make comments that hurt or offend.
I won’t make the mistake of telling you I know how you feel. I can try to imagine your pain, but I’m sure I could never know how it really feels unless I’d lost one of my children. I can tell you that I, and all my fellow fighters, do care. It is the chance that we will save the next victim of tragedy that keeps us doing what we’re doing in the face of so much sorrow. We wish for you strength and peace on your journey.
Written by Aaron Espy, Firefighter/Paramedic
Aaron is a Firefighter/Paramedic in Kitsap County (just west of
Seattle, Washington). He has been a professional firefighter since 1980. He is a
freelance writer, poet and has just started writing a bi-monthly column called
"911-Fire and Rescue" for Kitsap County’s primary newspaper.
A DISPATCHER'S PRAYER
From the voice that you take with you,
on each and every run
The one who never sees you
when you may reach for your gun.
I give you the honor,
and the respect that your job deserves.
With the hope of you believing,
I NEVER WANT YOU HURT!
I can't see the child struck down,
or see the Mother's tears,
And I can't see the blood and gore,
left from one too many beers.
But I can hear the emotion,
you try so hard to hide,
And I can hear the pain you feel,
of another child that died.
I talk to you and laugh and laugh
at your bad jokes and schemes,
I even sit and listen to your
retirement hopes and dreams.
I do not see you often,
That may be for the best,
If so I might get careless,
and lump you with the rest.
I can't stop the bullet,
I can't give you peace and make you rest,
to face another day.
I can't stop the fight before you're there,
can't wipe your sweating brow,
But I CAN hope and pray for you,
that you will be safe somehow.
I talk to frantic people,
try to get the facts you need,
so you will be ever prepared,
to face the horrible deed.
I send you out to fight the drunk,
I pray he has no gun,
Dear God, Please help me hear him well,
and see US through this run.
And when my day is over,
I pray before I sleep,
Dear God, Please keep my officers safe,
supply just what they need.
Help me always manage,
to be patient, kind and calm,
I know that there are many times,
they feel so all alone.
Help me do the best I can,
get them safely through the day,
and somehow let them know, Dear Lord,
YOU WILL lead our way.
Show them Lord, the voice they take,
everywhere they go,
wants to do the best they can,
and that I am not their foe.
Teach us Lord, that with your help,
We CAN all survive,
and do our jobs with grace and ease,
Together, with great pride.
May all of those who wear a uniform and who protect
us everyday, come home to the ones they love,
just like they left that day.
I praise everyone of us who work in the Emergency
Services field, whether they be Volunteer or Paid.
