Missing Tragedy

In my work - that of professional firefighting - the thing that brings us work brings tragedy to those we seek to serve. And though it is not my fault that homes burn and people die, I am often there with my colleagues to witness such events. What's worse, when I miss a tragedy - like the two-alarm fire I missed on my Kelly Day - I get upset and talk about how great it could have been.

Yesterday I watched a woman die in her living room. She called us for help because she felt like she could not catch her breath. We arrived in minutes, fresh from an afternoon nap, and were there to provide the assistance we have been trained with. But thirty seconds after we walked in the door with a tackle box of drugs, the heart monitor and an airway kit, she was gone.

She told us her name and talked briefly about when her trouble started. Then, as I tried to get a blood pressure, she looked up and died. We rushed her to the rescue unit and did all we could - not enough in this case.

It has been almost three months since I arrived on the companies of our nation's first professional fire department and I am still so confused about the job. We celebrate fire - the loss of someone's home and possessions. Then, when we see death, we go back to the house and finish our movie or resume our nap.

I work the best and the strangest job in the world.