07/26/2026
With more of the public finally beginning to recognize just how overlooked emergency response and emergency medicine truly are, I felt it was worth continuing the conversation.
Let me start with a simple question:
When you hear the words “Paramedic” or “EMT,” what comes to mind?
For most people, the picture is easy to imagine and is often consistent: the flashing lights, blaring sirens, ambulances weaving through traffic, tourniquets applied, CPR in the middle of the street, lives being saved. Paramedics and EMTs are the heroes showing up on someone’s worst day. They’re the underdogs. They’re the ones you call when you don’t know what else to do.
And sometimes, that’s exactly what we do.
Unfortunately, though, that’s only a fraction of our job.
The reality of EMS is one that most people never see.
Across the country—and right here in your own community—ambulances are becoming harder to staff. Experienced EMTs and paramedics are leaving the profession faster than they can be replaced. This isn’t just a national issue. It’s happening in your city, your county, and your neighborhood.
When you call 911, you expect someone to answer. You expect an ambulance to be available. You expect help to arrive quickly.
But what happens when there simply isn’t a crew available?
What happens when the closest ambulance is already tied up on another call?
Those aren’t hypothetical questions anymore. They’re becoming reality. This problem isn’t just nationwide. It isn’t someone else’s problem. This is happening here: your city, your county, your neighbors, your colleagues, your friends, your family, and eventually, it may affect you.
Many providers aren’t leaving because they stopped caring. They’re leaving because they can’t afford to stay.
Despite years of education, thousands of hours spent in classrooms, hospitals, and ambulances, national certification, continuing education, and the responsibility of making life-or-death decisions every shift, many EMTs and paramedics earn wages that don’t reflect the responsibility they’re trusted with. These medically-trained professionals are often insulted on a bi-weekly basis.
We are expected to recognize a heart attack before the hospital takes over care. We administer medications that can save a life—or take one if used incorrectly. We make split-second decisions with limited information. We comfort families on the worst days of their lives.
Then we go home wondering how we’re going to pay rent.
For many providers, the math simply doesn’t work anymore.
The providers who remain are carrying the weight of an entire system on their shoulders.
There may be mandatory overtime. There’s 24-hour shifts. Missed birthdays. Missed holidays. Sleepless nights. Cold dinners that never get eaten. Empty EMS rooms. Running call after call after call because there isn’t another crew to relieve them in the morning.
Burnout isn’t becoming common.
Burnout has become the culture.
One of the biggest contributors to that burnout is something many people don’t realize.
Not every 911 call is an emergency.
EMS exists for emergencies—heart attacks, strokes, severe trauma, respiratory failure, overdoses, cardiac arrests, and countless other conditions where minutes truly matter.
A significant amount of our day is spent responding to complaints that simply aren’t emergencies. Complaints that aren’t life-or-death.
A chronic back pain that’s been present for twenty years.
A medication refill because the doctor’s office is closed.
A ride to the emergency room because it’s more convenient than driving.
A stomachache that started last week.
A cold that’s been lingering for several days.
Does that mean those people aren’t sick?
Absolutely not.
Does that mean that they don’t deserve to be treated?Certainly not.
Everyone deserves access to healthcare.
But an ambulance is not a replacement for primary care, urgent care, or routine transportation.
Every ambulance responding to a non-emergent complaint is an ambulance that cannot immediately respond to the child who’s no longer breathing.
To the father having a massive heart attack.
To the grandmother suffering a stroke.
To the family trapped in a wreck.
EMS resources are finite.
Time matters.
Availability matters.
Those decisions have consequences that most people never have to think about.
Then there’s another reality that almost never makes the headlines:
Violence.
Most people are shocked to learn how often EMS providers are assaulted. They fail to understand the uncertainties that come from the demands of the job.
Being cursed at.
Being threatened.
Being punched.
Being kicked.
Being spit on.
Being bitten.
Having weapons pulled on us.
Walking into homes where we have no idea what’s waiting on the other side of the door.
We don’t know who we’re about to meet.
We don’t know if they’re intoxicated, armed, experiencing a psychiatric emergency, or simply angry that we were called—even if it was their loved one.
We go anyway.
Not because it’s easy.
Not because it’s safe.
Because that’s the job. That’s what we’re paid to do. That’s what we want to do. That’s why we’re here.
We are expected to remain calm while someone screams inches from our face.
To continue providing care after being assaulted.
To smile.
To be professional.
To provide exceptional “customer service.”
To move on to the next call as though nothing happened.
That takes a toll, guys. It really does.
And eventually, people decide they’ve had enough.
The hardest part is that none of these problems exist in isolation. It’s happening right here. It’s happening every single day.
Low pay leads to providers leaving.
Providers leaving create staffing shortages.
Staffing shortages increase overtime amount and fatigue.
Fatigue leads to burnout.
Burnout causes more providers to leave.
The cycle repeats itself.
Meanwhile, call volumes continue to rise.
The public still expects the same response times.
The same quality of care.
The same smiling faces.
All while asking fewer and fewer people to carry a heavier and heavier load.
None of this is meant to discourage anyone from calling 911 when they believe they’re experiencing a true emergency.
If you think your life—or someone else’s—is in immediate danger, call.
Every single time. Please call.
We would rather respond and discover everything is okay than have someone hesitate during a genuine emergency.
But we also have a responsibility to educate our communities about when emergency resources are truly needed—because EMS was never designed to replace an already overwhelmed healthcare system.
It was designed to respond when seconds matter.
The next time you see an ambulance driving by with its lights and sirens on, remember that the people inside may be on their 18th hour without sleep.
They may have missed dinner for the third time that day.
They may have just told someone’s child that their parent wasn’t coming home.
They may have been assaulted on the previous call.
They may be wondering how they’ll pay their bills despite working over 100 hours this week.
And yet, when your family needs them…
They’ll still show up.
Not because the job is easy.
Not because the pay is good.
Not because they’re treated with the respect they deserve.
They’ll show up because someone needs help.
The question we should all be asking isn’t whether EMTs and Paramedics will continue answering the call.
It’s how much longer we can expect them to keep doing it without meaningful change.
EMS is more than flashing lights and sirens.
It IS doing CPR in the middle of the street.
It IS hanging a vasopressor to keep someone alive.
It IS sticking a needle into someone’s chest to re-inflate their lung.
It IS administering a medication to reverse a cause that would otherwise take someone’s life.
It IS ensuring that the unit is clean.
It IS coming to schools and letting the future generations see how beautiful the job can be.
It IS holding hands.
It is all of these things, but it’s also so much more.
It’s people.
And right now, those people are asking to be seen—not as heroes, but as professionals worthy of fair pay, safe working conditions, adequate staffing, and the respect that should come with dedicating your life to serving others.
Because one day, the ambulance you’re waiting on may be coming for someone you love.
This is my piece. These are my friends, my family, and my colleagues. We’re begging to be seen. We’re begging to be heard. We’re begging to be treated with the respect that we deserve.
In the meantime, we’ll be here.
Answering the call.
Every single time.
