'Twas the Night of the Squad Call
by Steven P. Velasquez December 2005 'Twas the night of the squad call when all through the town, Not a “hero” responded, not one could be found. Her chest had felt pressure, her lungs short of air, Praying for an ambulance soon to be there. The “heroes” were all nestled all snug in their beds, While images of heroism danced in their heads. And Mama in her jumpsuit and I, a job shirt Heard the pager & rolled over – “It’s your third alert!” When out on my scanner there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to view what’s the matter?! Away to the scanner I staggered – then belched, Raised up the volume and lowered the squelch. The dispatcher yelled to the officers on scene “Step it up! They called back. She's not breathing!” When what to my wondering eyes should appear, But career Paramedics, What? No volunteers? No little old drivers – jump - suits or blue lights, I knew in a moment our end was in sight. More rapid than eagles, their medicines came, As they pushed ...