How do you do what you do?

As I sit in quarters, my mind is set on that taco I got, that I have been craving for weeks. It looks delicious, and I can't wait to take my first bite. Just as I raise this glorious meat filled relic to my mouth, I hear our tones. Without thought, the tacos is tossed aside, it will be there when I get back.

The call is for a child, who fell off of a rock ledge while hiking with her dad. It will take our unit, and many firefighters to locate this girl. Once we do, that is when we do what we do best. We get them out, and do so by using our training, and knowledge.

She is about 75ft down a ledge, she is not responding to our shouts. The fire department readies the rope equipment and we begin our decent. Trailing behind us is our equipment nicely tucked into the stokes basket. We reach our patient. She is unconscious, and barely holding onto life. Her pulse is weak, and we will need to assist respirations. We make the decision to activate the medical helicopter, because once she is freed from this rocky tomb, she will need transport quickly. The collar is applied and with extreme care, we roll her onto an awaiting backboard. There are noticeable extremity fractures, a depression fracture on the base of her skull, as well as many actively bleeding wounds. We patch and secure what is in need of immediate attention, and get her ready for the steep climb up the rock's edge.

Carefully, we begin our climb. EMS and fire working as one team to bring this victim to the top of the ledge. We pray that our training, and our equipment won't fail us. With that fear pushed behind, we rally to get this girl, and ourselves safely to the top. Her father, anxiously awaits, with worry. We reach the top. Dad rushes to his daughter's side. We quickly explain that we need to get moving, and that time is not on our side. The father asks to help carry her through the deep woods. To satisfy his need to help, we allow him to grab a corner. Each step we take we rattle this girl, this fragile lifeless child, who just 45 minutes ago was enjoying a day with her daddy.

She loses pulses. Everyone stops in their tracks. The stokes basket gets placed onto the leaf covered path, and we all get to work. I begin compressions, my partner attaches the defib pads. all movement stops as we analyze this girls heart rhythm. She is in V-tach. We clear everyone around us and deliver a shock, praying that it doesn't send her into asystole. The shock is delivered and CPR is continued. The medic, with skilled hands places an advanced airway, and begins to control her every breath. After administering life saving epinepherine, through the IV that was established we check her again. Sinus Brady. We quickly check her pulses, and with a look of amazement, and relief she has regained them. We decide it's time to boogie. We start off again toward our ambulance. We make it. The ride to the awaiting helicopter is only minutes away. We load, and we go as quickly as possible. We arrive at the awaiting helicopter, give our report and then they are off. As we watch them leave, we secretly wonder if this one will survive. If we got to her in time. These words we do not speak, we keep them to ourselves.

I return to my taco. By that time, much like myself it is cold. I shrug as I take a bite. Something is better than nothing. I finish my lunch, just in time for the next call to come in. Elderly person, possible infection, and away we go.

Months pass, sometimes we talk about the girl from the rocks, wondering if she is doing well, or if she succumbed to her injuries. We hear a knock on the door. I sluggishly walk towards the door, and open it up. To my surprise, there stands a man, beside him is a girl in a wheel chair. She smiles at me. It takes me a second to remember their faces. I stand there wide mouthed, and in disbelief. I quickly yell to my partner, to come here, quickly! The father tells us that she spent 3 weeks intubated, in intensive care. She had multiple surgeries to repair injuries , and to help reduce intracranial pressure. When she awoke, she had minor brain deficits, and sustained a spinal fracture that left her with little feeling in her legs. He explained that the physical therapist is hopeful that in time, and with hard work, this girl would be able to walk again. That was such great news! We talked for a small amount of time. We wished them well, and told the girl to come back to us and visit. Maybe next time she would be able to walk to the door. Then they were gone.

People ask us why we do what we do. This is my answer. Not every person can be saved, not every call is life or death. But sometimes, there is a time when we truly make a difference in someone's life. When the decisions we make, in mere seconds save their lives. All of the sadness we go through, all of the danger we walk into, is made worth it just by seeing the a smile on the face of a little girl that, when you saw her last was barely hanging onto life. That is what makes what we do bearable. That is what makes it all worth it. That is why I do what I do. That is ultimately why I love my job.