Just before dawn on Albany Avenue. The first light just starting to appear in the east. We’re posted on the corner. Most of the night crews have headed in for crew change and the morning cars haven’t signed on yet. 924 is on their way to an asthma on Martin Street and 917 is dealing with an assault victim on Park Terrace. 931 is still out at Saint Francis. “You’re covering the world,” Laura tells us. That’s what she says when there is only one ambulance free. You are covering the world. If anyone in the city gets sick or injured now, whether they are a poor man living under I-84 or the Governor up in his mansion on Prospect Avenue, we are the ones who will answer the call. Hartford. This is my city. Has been for thirty years. Some like the adrenaline of the GSWs, some the chaos of the multiple car crash, others the challenge of the complicated heart cases. Me, I like this the best, just sitting here in the quiet of dawn, looking out over the still empty avenue. I feel like a shepherd protecting his flock. I love this city and its people. It’s been a good job, a good life. I have always felt like I mattered.
