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EMT/Paramedic poems and prayers


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#1 Sir Andrew

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Posted 28 June 2008 - 07:03 AM

[align=center:0f8cc66465]"A Paramedic's Prayer"

As I perform my duty, Lord,
Whatever be the call
Help to guide and keep me safe,
From dangers big and small.

I want to serve and do my best
No matter what the scene,
I promise to keep my skills refined,
My judgment sharp and keen.
This calling to give of myself,
most do not understand,
But I stand ready all the time
to help my fellow man.

A word of thanks I might not hear,
but knowing is enough,
That I have helped just even one
To go on to live and love.

A Paramedic's Prayer

Lord, You know what lies ahead of me this day.

The calls I will be asked to respond to,
And those who find themselves in situations they
never imagined
And see no way out.

For them I humbly ask that you would speed
me on with attending angels
At my side guiding every decision and procedure

To all who plead and those who cannot, I pray to
be a Good samaritan
As they look to me for help and rescue.

Help me to save as many as I can,
And should mine be the last face they see,
I pray they will have looked into eyes
That reflected You love for them

In Jesus' Name Amen.

Paramedic's Prayer

Dear Lord, let me receive the sick
and traumatized with an open and giving heart.
Give to my efforts success so that life may
continue, if it be your will. Without you
I cannot succeed.

Let me have no purpose except the
glorification of life.
Grant that the sick that you have
placed in my care be abundantly blessed,
and not one of them be lost due to any
neglect on my part.

Help me to overcome any temporal weakness
so that I may serve to my fullest capacity.
Let me always reach out to all in joy, compassion
and with a loving heart.

Why God made Paramedics

When God made paramedics, He was into His sixth day of overtime.
An angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
God said, "Have you read the specs on this order?

A Paramedic has to be able to carry an injured person up a wet, grassy hill in the dark,
dodge stray bullets to reach a dying child unarmed,
enter homes the health inspector wouldn't touch,
and not wrinkle his uniform."

"He has to be able to lift three times his own weight.
Crawl into wrecked cars with barely enough room to move,
and console a grieving mother as
he is doing CPR on a baby he knows will never breathe again."

"He has to be in top mental condition at all times,
running on no sleep, black coffee and half-eaten meals,
and he has to have six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands...no way."
"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," God replied.
"It's the three pairs of eyes a medic has to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.

God nodded. "One pair that sees open sores as he's drawing blood,
always wondering if the patient is HIV positive."
(When he already knows and wishes he'd taken that accounting job)

"Another pair here in the side of his head for his partner's safety.
And another pair of eyes here in front
that can look reassuringly at a bleeding victim and say,
"You'll be alright ma'am when he knows it isn't so."

"Lord," said the angel, touching His sleeve, "rest and work on this tomorrow."
"I can't," God replied.
"I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound
drunk out from behind a steering wheel
without incident and feed a family of five on a private service paycheck."
The angel circled the model of the Paramedic very slowly.
"Can it think?" she asked.

"You bet", God said.
"It can tell you the symptoms of 100 illnesses;
recite drug calculations in it's sleep;
intubate, defibrillate, medicate, and continue CPR
nonstop over terrain that any doctor would fear...
and it still keeps it's sense of humor."

"This medic also has phenomenal personal control.
He can deal with a multi-victim trauma,
coax a frightened elderly person to unlock their door,
comfort a murder victim's family,
and then read in the daily paper how Paramedics were
unable to locate a house quickly enough,
allowing the person to die.
A house that had no street sign, no house numbers, no phone to call back."

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the Paramedic.

"There's a leak," she pronounced.
"I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model."
"That's not a leak," God replied, "It's a tear."
"What's the tear for?" asked the angel.

"It's for bottled up emotions,
for patients they've tried in vain to save,
for commitment to that hope
that they will make a difference in a person's chance to survive, for life."
"You're a genius!" said the angel.

God looked somber.

"I DIDN'T PUT IT THERE" He said.

Author Unknown




One White Rose


A call for help goes out at three,
Setting off pagers all over town.
Somewhere, an unknown 1050
And the dispatcher cannot calm down.

Rescuers leap out of their beds
Leaving with no backward glances.
They can only guess what's ahead
As they leave in fire trucks and ambulances.

The ambulance departs the station
As the dispatcher repeats the address.
"The injured require extrication,
And most of all ALS."

inside, they feel so empty,
Not knowing what awaits.
Also, unsettling urgency--
They're responsible for other's fates.

Dread reaches out icy claws
As they hear the latest news.
Officers are requesting the "jaws"
And even more backup crews.

Firefighters are also on the way--
Hearts racing, a touch of fear.
"Jaws of life, what's your ETA?"
Less than a minute, now they're here.

The police were first on the scene
Controlling and directing traffic
And updating the rest of the team
(Although the sight makes them sick.)

The scene is a wicked nightmare,
Broken glass and plastic litter the ground.
There's twisted metal everywhere
And the odor of ETOH all around.

The images are horrifying, grotesque
Lit by red and blue flashing lights.
Worse than anyone had guessed--
It will haunt them of many nights.

One young man, on his way home,
Didn't see the stop sign.
The mini van he T-boned
Couldn't move in time.

20 years old-too young to drink
He'd said he was sober-- it was a lie.
he left the party, his friends didn't think
That he'd be DUI.

Crushed and slumped against the wheel
Was the driver of the van.
Dead of injuries he didn't feel,
An innocent family man.

Crumpled against the passenger door
Lay his broken and battered wife,
Her cries faded and were no more
As she passed out of this life.

A scream echoes on the icy breeze
From out of a shallow grave
Despite the efforts of the EMT's
It will be a third life they cannot save.

Curled up in a heap
The child is discovered in the wreck.
He may have only been asleep--
Except for his broken neck.

The young driver staggers form his car,
Bleeding from a cut on his arm.
He watches the scene from afar
As he's suffered no major harm.

An officer sees him standing there
And gives him a breathalyzer test.
Ignoring the boy's glassy stare
Says; "Son your under arrest."

When hopes of survivors were almost gone
And it seemed pointless to try
They heard a sound that drove them on--
A weak and scared child's cry

She looked like a porcelain doll
With pale hair and a button nose.
Skin so white, body not hurt at all--
Like a lonely white rose.

They pulled her free and began care
Of this child of barely three.
Fortunately, she was unaware
That she'd lost her family.

Hours later, the street is clean--
All traces of tragedy gone.
Rescuers slowly depart the scene
But memories don't fade with dawn.

The boy is taken to jail,
Where he beats his fist against the tile.
His mother cannot afford his bail,
And so he'll remain until his trial.

His mother, with eyes downcast,
Had tried to leave but he'd caught her.
"What's wrong? What is it?" he'd asked.
She cried and said "Vehicular Manslaughter."

For 17 years, the man had cried
Consumed with guilt and sorrow.
At times, he wished he had died
So he wouldn't face another tomorrow.

At last, he was being released
From years and years of Hell.
The pain of the accident never ceased
And never would, he could tell.

As soon as he was out, he found the graves
Of the people he had killed.
Their deaths haunted all his days
And left a void that couldn't be filled.

He is laying flowers on the ground
Next to each headstone.
He hears a voice and spins around
And discovers he's not alone.

Behind him is the one he didn't kill.
He shares the anguish she knows.
Drawn her against his will,
He gives her One White Rose.


Author Unknown

EMT Prayer


LORD,

Grant me the wisdom so that I may treat
those of your children that lay at my feet.
Let my hands be gentle, sure and swift
to impart to them your sacred gift.

Let me see only a patient's need
not their color, race or creed.
Help me always to be my best
even when it's on my hours rest.

Grant me the insight to understand why
patients of mine are going to die.
Let me remember that when they do
there is a wonderful life in Heaven with You.

Lord, if in the time of duty I should fall
help my family to hold their heads tall.
For it was You who decided that I should be
one of your chosen few, an EMT.


-Author Unknown- [/align:0f8cc66465]

P.S. I was not sure where to put this post feel free to move it if you need to
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#2 HidingAngel43

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Posted 05 October 2008 - 12:28 AM

[align=center:09f922bcb7]"A Paramedic's Prayer"

As I perform my duty, Lord,
Whatever be the call
Help to guide and keep me safe,
From dangers big and small.

I want to serve and do my best
No matter what the scene,
I promise to keep my skills refined,
My judgment sharp and keen.
This calling to give of myself,
most do not understand,
But I stand ready all the time
to help my fellow man.

A word of thanks I might not hear,
but knowing is enough,
That I have helped just even one
To go on to live and love.

A Paramedic's Prayer

Lord, You know what lies ahead of me this day.

The calls I will be asked to respond to,
And those who find themselves in situations they
never imagined
And see no way out.

For them I humbly ask that you would speed
me on with attending angels
At my side guiding every decision and procedure

To all who plead and those who cannot, I pray to
be a Good samaritan
As they look to me for help and rescue.

Help me to save as many as I can,
And should mine be the last face they see,
I pray they will have looked into eyes
That reflected You love for them

In Jesus' Name Amen.

Paramedic's Prayer

Dear Lord, let me receive the sick
and traumatized with an open and giving heart.
Give to my efforts success so that life may
continue, if it be your will. Without you
I cannot succeed.

Let me have no purpose except the
glorification of life.
Grant that the sick that you have
placed in my care be abundantly blessed,
and not one of them be lost due to any
neglect on my part.

Help me to overcome any temporal weakness
so that I may serve to my fullest capacity.
Let me always reach out to all in joy, compassion
and with a loving heart.

Why God made Paramedics

When God made paramedics, He was into His sixth day of overtime.
An angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
God said, "Have you read the specs on this order?

A Paramedic has to be able to carry an injured person up a wet, grassy hill in the dark,
dodge stray bullets to reach a dying child unarmed,
enter homes the health inspector wouldn't touch,
and not wrinkle his uniform."

"He has to be able to lift three times his own weight.
Crawl into wrecked cars with barely enough room to move,
and console a grieving mother as
he is doing CPR on a baby he knows will never breathe again."

"He has to be in top mental condition at all times,
running on no sleep, black coffee and half-eaten meals,
and he has to have six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands...no way."
"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," God replied.
"It's the three pairs of eyes a medic has to have."
"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel.

God nodded. "One pair that sees open sores as he's drawing blood,
always wondering if the patient is HIV positive."
(When he already knows and wishes he'd taken that accounting job)

"Another pair here in the side of his head for his partner's safety.
And another pair of eyes here in front
that can look reassuringly at a bleeding victim and say,
"You'll be alright ma'am when he knows it isn't so."

"Lord," said the angel, touching His sleeve, "rest and work on this tomorrow."
"I can't," God replied.
"I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound
drunk out from behind a steering wheel
without incident and feed a family of five on a private service paycheck."
The angel circled the model of the Paramedic very slowly.
"Can it think?" she asked.

"You bet", God said.
"It can tell you the symptoms of 100 illnesses;
recite drug calculations in it's sleep;
intubate, defibrillate, medicate, and continue CPR
nonstop over terrain that any doctor would fear...
and it still keeps it's sense of humor."

"This medic also has phenomenal personal control.
He can deal with a multi-victim trauma,
coax a frightened elderly person to unlock their door,
comfort a murder victim's family,
and then read in the daily paper how Paramedics were
unable to locate a house quickly enough,
allowing the person to die.
A house that had no street sign, no house numbers, no phone to call back."

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the Paramedic.

"There's a leak," she pronounced.
"I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model."
"That's not a leak," God replied, "It's a tear."
"What's the tear for?" asked the angel.

"It's for bottled up emotions,
for patients they've tried in vain to save,
for commitment to that hope
that they will make a difference in a person's chance to survive, for life."
"You're a genius!" said the angel.

God looked somber.

"I DIDN'T PUT IT THERE" He said.

Author Unknown




One White Rose


A call for help goes out at three,
Setting off pagers all over town.
Somewhere, an unknown 1050
And the dispatcher cannot calm down.

Rescuers leap out of their beds
Leaving with no backward glances.
They can only guess what's ahead
As they leave in fire trucks and ambulances.

The ambulance departs the station
As the dispatcher repeats the address.
"The injured require extrication,
And most of all ALS."

inside, they feel so empty,
Not knowing what awaits.
Also, unsettling urgency--
They're responsible for other's fates.

Dread reaches out icy claws
As they hear the latest news.
Officers are requesting the "jaws"
And even more backup crews.

Firefighters are also on the way--
Hearts racing, a touch of fear.
"Jaws of life, what's your ETA?"
Less than a minute, now they're here.

The police were first on the scene
Controlling and directing traffic
And updating the rest of the team
(Although the sight makes them sick.)

The scene is a wicked nightmare,
Broken glass and plastic litter the ground.
There's twisted metal everywhere
And the odor of ETOH all around.

The images are horrifying, grotesque
Lit by red and blue flashing lights.
Worse than anyone had guessed--
It will haunt them of many nights.

One young man, on his way home,
Didn't see the stop sign.
The mini van he T-boned
Couldn't move in time.

20 years old-too young to drink
He'd said he was sober-- it was a lie.
he left the party, his friends didn't think
That he'd be DUI.

Crushed and slumped against the wheel
Was the driver of the van.
Dead of injuries he didn't feel,
An innocent family man.

Crumpled against the passenger door
Lay his broken and battered wife,
Her cries faded and were no more
As she passed out of this life.

A scream echoes on the icy breeze
From out of a shallow grave
Despite the efforts of the EMT's
It will be a third life they cannot save.

Curled up in a heap
The child is discovered in the wreck.
He may have only been asleep--
Except for his broken neck.

The young driver staggers form his car,
Bleeding from a cut on his arm.
He watches the scene from afar
As he's suffered no major harm.

An officer sees him standing there
And gives him a breathalyzer test.
Ignoring the boy's glassy stare
Says; "Son your under arrest."

When hopes of survivors were almost gone
And it seemed pointless to try
They heard a sound that drove them on--
A weak and scared child's cry

She looked like a porcelain doll
With pale hair and a button nose.
Skin so white, body not hurt at all--
Like a lonely white rose.

They pulled her free and began care
Of this child of barely three.
Fortunately, she was unaware
That she'd lost her family.

Hours later, the street is clean--
All traces of tragedy gone.
Rescuers slowly depart the scene
But memories don't fade with dawn.

The boy is taken to jail,
Where he beats his fist against the tile.
His mother cannot afford his bail,
And so he'll remain until his trial.

His mother, with eyes downcast,
Had tried to leave but he'd caught her.
"What's wrong? What is it?" he'd asked.
She cried and said "Vehicular Manslaughter."

For 17 years, the man had cried
Consumed with guilt and sorrow.
At times, he wished he had died
So he wouldn't face another tomorrow.

At last, he was being released
From years and years of Hell.
The pain of the accident never ceased
And never would, he could tell.

As soon as he was out, he found the graves
Of the people he had killed.
Their deaths haunted all his days
And left a void that couldn't be filled.

He is laying flowers on the ground
Next to each headstone.
He hears a voice and spins around
And discovers he's not alone.

Behind him is the one he didn't kill.
He shares the anguish she knows.
Drawn her against his will,
He gives her One White Rose.


Author Unknown

EMT Prayer


LORD,

Grant me the wisdom so that I may treat
those of your children that lay at my feet.
Let my hands be gentle, sure and swift
to impart to them your sacred gift.

Let me see only a patient's need
not their color, race or creed.
Help me always to be my best
even when it's on my hours rest.

Grant me the insight to understand why
patients of mine are going to die.
Let me remember that when they do
there is a wonderful life in Heaven with You.

Lord, if in the time of duty I should fall
help my family to hold their heads tall.
For it was You who decided that I should be
one of your chosen few, an EMT.


-Author Unknown- [/align:09f922bcb7]

P.S. I was not sure where to put this post feel free to move it if you need to


Those are magniifcent Poems and Prayers. Did you write them yourself?
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#3 Richard B the EMT

Richard B the EMT
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Posted 07 October 2008 - 11:57 PM

Please God, Iím only 17

The day I died was an ordinary school day. How I wish I had taken the bus! But I was too cool for the bus. I remembered how I wheedled the car out of Mom. ďSpecial favor,Ē I pleaded, ďall the kids drive.Ē

When the 2:50 bell rang, I threw all my books in the locker. I was free until 8:40 tomorrow morning! I ran to the parking lot, excited at the thought of driving a car and being my own boss. FREE!

It doesnít matter how the accident happened. I was goofing off -- going too fast. Taking crazy chances. But I was enjoying my freedom and having fun. The last thing I remember was passing an old lady who seemed to be going awfully slow. I heard the deafening crash and felt a terrific jolt. Glass and steel flew everywhere. My whole body seemed to be turning inside out. I heard myself scream.

Suddenly, I awakened; it was very quiet. A police officer was standing over me. Then I saw a doctor. My body was mangled; I was saturated with blood. Pieces of jagged glass were sticking out all over. Strange that I couldnít feel anything.

Hey, donít pull that sheet over my head. I canít be dead. Iím only 17; Iíve got a date tonight. I am supposed to grow up and have a wonderful life. I havenít lived yet. I canít be dead.

Later I was placed in a drawer. My parents had to identify me. Why did they have to see me like this? Why did I have to look at Momís face when she faced the most terrible ordeal of her life? Dad suddenly looked like an old man. He told the man in charge, "Yes, he is my son."

The funeral was a weird experience. I saw all my relatives and friends walk toward the casket. They passed by, one by one, and looked at me with the saddest eyes Iíve ever seen. Some of my buddies were crying. A few of the girls touched my hand and sobbed as they walked away.

Please...somebody...wake me up! Get me out of here. I canít bear to see my Mom and Dad so broken up. My grandparents are so racked with grief they can barely walk. My brother and sisters are like zombies. They move like robots. In a daze, everybody! No one can believe this. I canít believe it either.

Please donít bury me! Iím not dead! I have a lot of living to do! I want to laugh and run again; I want too sing and dance. Please donít put me in the ground. I promise if you give me just one more chance, God, Iíll be the most careful driver in the whole world. All I want is one more chance.

Please God, Iím only seventeen.

This letter originally appeared in a column by Ann Landers
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#4 Asysin2leads

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Posted 08 October 2008 - 12:22 AM

I fucking HATE Ann Landers.
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#5 Michael

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Posted 08 October 2008 - 12:29 AM

But she says the nicest things about you!

(I was waiting for that shoe to drop.)
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