The United Nations just clarified what we’ve been cognizant of and denying for way too long, that us hominids are wrecking our planet. But that’s not what this letter is about. We can stop that process if we care enough. Our ranks can rally, make sacrifices of comfort and personal gain, apply our skills and resources; save air water and dirt for some semblance of the future.
And, as we contemplate that, the international scientific community has amply (understatement) educated us, once and for all, on the emergency status of this roaring virus that has throttled our whole species. But this, too, is not what my letter is about. COVID-19 ain’t gone ’til we act as one, ready to accept some personal discomfort, heaven forbid, and get a shot, wear a friggin’ mask.
Closer to home — no scientists need be involved; barely any persuasive research need precede the popular acceptance that our beloved hilltowns, our underestimated, diminutive, powerful communities, justifiably demand protection from disaster. We’re educated, hard-working, politically concerned. To agree that a significant portion of our small Western Massachusetts population exerts an influence on big world functions is challengeable by no court of law. We have a voice. And we deserve safety.
Protection from disaster is a right not a privilege. Everyone among us is entitled to rescue. But who is charged with the task? Who is the sentinel by the portal ready to leap under a falling elder, or pound on the chest of a choking child? Who is ready to jump out of routine to drive the ambulance without question or judgment?
Everyone is.
Me. You. Your Mom. My wife’s uncle’s great-grand-niece-in-law; every person born within a period of 80 years, who is aware, self-dressing and ambulatory. If you have a pulse, you care. Here’s what it’s about.
You leap to your feet when your 8-year-old girl collapses from a shin kick on the soccer field. You fight back tears when you read about a teen killed in an SUV rollover. When you hear about the elder vet who was attacked by a gang, you stay awake until you get the news of the old man’s recovery. You care. Of course you do — who wouldn’t?
Our small towns could use your caring. The ambulance in your town needs your energy.
In Charlemont, for example, we have a very small crew. Each of us carries a radio communicator wherever we go. When that device alerts us to an emergency in our town, we react. We drop what we’re doing and respond to the firehouse, where the ambulance is parked. Someone drives the ambulance, others prepare for treatment and transport of the patient in accordance with the announced injury or medical condition. By law, we cannot respond unless we have a crew — a sufficient number of responders trained at a level necessitated by the specific call.
Tragically, we cannot always gather enough trained EMTs to respond legally. This means that the one in distress — the anxious patient, the one having difficulty breathing; the one with a river raft related head injury; the one in anaphylactic shock from a bee sting — will have to wait longer until another town’s ambulance can react. Some conditions can’t wait that long.
The training is tough. But so is being a committed member of a community. So is being a parent, a teacher, a bread winner. You are tough. You are caring. If you’re alert, you’re ready to work for the greater good.
Please consider taking the course. Join our family of EMTs.
Sonny Crawford lives in Charlemont.