Ever since I can remember, I have always loved children. I love making them laugh, seeing them smile, playing games with them. I love how they don't judge, and I love their innocence. As a father of 5 wonderful children. I am truly blessed. This love for children is a curse when it comes to being a firefighter and a paramedic.
I feel like God has shielded me from making too many serious EMS calls involving children. With each call you make, you gain confidence, knowledge, and become just a little more callous. I can see blood and guts. Dead mangled bodies don't bother me at all. Unless they are children.
Last winter, (yes it's been over a year since I can talk about it, and share this story. Even now, I am fighting back tears), our engine and medic unit were first in to a house fire. We could see the flames that were about 2 miles away as soon as we pulled out of the station. The scene was utter chaos. Flames were reaching out from every home orifice. People were yelling and screaming that there were 3 children trapped inside. Men were grabbing at the engine crew telling them to hurry. There were locked burglar bars on every door and window. Adrenaline pumping, our Captain ripped the bars on the back door off with his bare hands! Our engine crew entered the blaze to extinguish the flames and me and my partner "caught the plug"(hooked up to the hydrant). Just as soon as we opened the hydrant, our Chief began yelling at us that a victim had been pulled out. We ran with the stretcher to find our Captain holding a toddler, and a bystander trying to take him from our Captain. The child wasn't breathing. We started CPR and began "working him" in the back of our ambulance. I prayed God would give me the strength, and I prayed for a miracle.
Two men, probably emotional family members, jumped in the back of our ambulance and began yelling at us and grabbing at the child. We threw them out and locked the doors. We then heard all of the fire trucks on scene sound their horns, which is a call to immediately evacuate the building because it is no longer safe. I began praying that our crew would make it out. We could hear on the radio that our engine was still unaccounted for and wasn't answering their radios. Worry for my brothers set in. As we started an IV and intubated the boy, we heard gunshots just outside the ambulance. Bystanders had gotten into an argument with camera crews and shots were fired. Like I said, chaos. I looked to make sure the doors were still locked. After the shots someone was banging on our back door. Scared to open it, I peek out the window and see firefighters with another toddler victim. Our engine crew wasn't responding to the call to evacuate because they had found another victim, this little boy.
We opened the door and now have two children in cardiac arrest. Undoubtedly the little boys were overcome with smoke and heat. I can still remember how hot their bodies felt. Almost too hot to touch. I remember talking to myself to stay calm and to just do what I've been trained to do. I fought back tears the whole way to the hospital. Four of us tended to the boys and one firefighter drove like a bat out of hell to the hospital. I prayed and prayed for a miracle. We did everything by the book. Our training did kick in. I have an amazing partner who also kept his composure in this worst of situations. In spite of all we did right, the miracle never came. In spite of our best effort and unending prayers, the boys were pronounced dead at the ER.
The third child, the boys older sister, did make it out, but her feet were badly burned. We were later told, the fire started in the kitchen after food was left unattended on the stove. The adults had left the children asleep and home alone.
After we cleaned up and finished our record. I looked at my partner and asked if he was all right. I asked if he was ready to go back in service. He was visibly shaken, as was I. I hit the button and went back in service. I have found, that after the toughest of calls, the best thing to do is get back on that horse.
As soon as I got off in the morning, I headed straight to church. It was Sunday, and I had to preach. I hadn't slept at all, and I was numb to the world. Some how, some way, God gave me the strength to deliver the sermon. I am reminded of 1 Corinthians 9:16 "Yet when I preach the gospel, I cannot boast, for I am compelled to preach. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel!"
That was my new goal that morning to preach Christ crucified, buried, and risen. Life goes on, as hard as it may be. It does with or without us. I don't know where I would be without my faith in Christ. I'm amazed how His Holy Spirit can give us strength. So many verses come to mind. Incidents like this one always make me realize how important and fragile life is. They help me cherish my wife and children. They teach me to be dependent on God for my strength, joy, and peace.
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