We survive the mundane, seemingly endless calls for emergency medical services, put on our game faces, treat the chronic alcoholics, the diabetics, the dialysis patients the elderly who are looking for little more than a sympathetic ear and somebody to talk to. We do the everyday grind, some days making a difference, some days not.
Some days, days like yesterday, when Boston turned from a celebratory affirmation of life and those living it to the fullest into a mass casualty scene the people who responded did so in such a way as to make all of us sit a little higher in our seats, walk a little taller and know that without fail our brothers and sisters will and do go the extra mile, and make the rest of us proud to wear the uniform- whatever that uniform may be.
Any firefighter or paramedic or EMT worth his or her salt in some deep place within them wishes they were there, in the thick of things, doing what we know how to do with the professionalism, courage and dignity shown to the world yesterday by those who were there, and did what any of us would have done had the unfortunate events happened to us.
It is both humbling and exhilarating to belong to this group of individuals, who as a whole represent the best of what mankind is capable of becoming. I sit here in the safety of my home, think about the job done yesterday, and tip my hat to the responders, pray for the victims, and thank whatever forces led me to this calling. Again and again I'm reminded of what a special group of people I am fortunate enough to call my own.