'Twas the
night before Christmas, and all through the station,
All was quiet except for our snoring Dalmatian.
Our boots had been placed by the bunksides with care,
In hopes that the shift change would finally be here.
The lights were turned down and the TV was off,
The rigs had been washed and the floors had been mopped.
Firemen and Medics lie nestled in bed,
While visions of homelife danced through their heads.
When out of the darkness, arose ringing and light,
The Plectron brought tidings of something not right.
The Firemen and Medics were dressed in an instant,
Aboard their trucks and racing into the distance.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,
Reflected the lights in a hellish, red glow.
The sirens, they wailed while the federal screamed,
Moving too slowly, as if in a dream.
The wreckage was there and came slowly in sight,
Lending fear, pain, and loss to our silent night.
Each of us thought of our own Wife, Daughter or Son,
Each prayed in silence, "Let me save at least one."
We leaped to the task without further a thought,
And for more than two hours we worked and we fought
To free the two drivers who hadn't been thinking,
Their driving would suffer after a full night of drinking.
The smoke of the flares, and the stench of the blood,
The screaming of metal as we rolled back the hood.
The cry of one driver, the whine of the Jaws,
Putting fear aside, we never gave pause.
With one driver out, and the other pronounced dead,
We focused our efforts on keeping our heads.
C-spine and backboard and IV in place,
We loaded him up and we started the race.
The monitor showed a heart rate too slow,
BP revealed a systolic too low.
Level of consciousness rapidly dying,
Despite all of this the Medics kept trying.
Atropine, Dopamine, Epi and more,
To keep our reason for being from opening death's door.
We fought and we prayed and tried all that was known,
While trying to believe fault wasn't our own.
The sun, she was rising as we reached the ER,
We'd given all that we know, and all that we are.
The Doctors pronounced with barely more than a glance,
And gone in a blink, was the patient's last chance.
The ride back to the station was quiet and then,
Despite what we'd been through, the singing began.
At first it was one and then all followed suit,
This effort together was merely the fruit.
Of a labor that however needlessly beared,
Was one of a million we knew we had shared.
As we sang out the words of the song "Silent Night",
We acknowledged to ourselves that we put up a good fight.
The punch of the clock, the start of a car,
We all realized and loved who we are.
And on Christmas morning as we all drive away,
We know we'll all try in a couple of days.
To give someone back their one chance to live,
No matter how hard or how much we must give.
So please, when you pray on this new Christmas morn,
Add something for us, and for all that we've borne.
