EMT's

When the Lord made EMT’s, he was into his sixth day of overtime when an angel appeared and said, “You’re doing a lot of fiddling around on this one.”
And the Lord said, “Have you read the specs on this order? An EMT has to be able to carry an injured person up a wet, grassy hill in the dark, dodge stray bullets to reach a dying child unarmed, enter homes the health inspector wouldn’t touch, and no...t wrinkle their uniform.”
“They have to be able to lift 3 times their own weight, crawl into wrecked cars with barely enough room to move, and console a grieving mother as they are doing CPR on a baby they know will never breathe again.”
“They have to be in top mental condition at all times, running on no sleep, black coffee and half-eaten meals. And they have to have six pairs of hands.”
The angel shook her head slowly and said, “Six pairs of hands…no way.”
“It’s not the hands that are causing me problems,” said the Lord, “It’s the three pairs of eyes a medic has to have.”
“That’s on the standard model?” asked the angel.
The Lord nodded. “One pair that sees open sores as they’re drawing blood and asks the patient if they may be HIV positive,” (when they already know and wish they’d taken that accounting job.) Another pair here in the side of the head for their partners’ safety. And another pair of eyes here in front that can look supportively at a frightened person and gently explain that their spouse of many years has departed this life.”
“Lord,” said the angel, touching his sleeve, “rest and work on this tomorrow.”
“I can’t,” said the Lord, “I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound drunk out from behind a steering wheel without incident and feed a family of five on a private service paycheck.”
The angel circled the model of the medic very slowly, “Can it think?” she asked.
“You bet,” said the Lord. “It can tell you the symptoms of 100 illnesses; recite drug calculations in its sleep; intubate, defibrillate, medicate, and continue CPR nonstop over terrain that any doctor would fear…and still it keeps its sense of humor. This medic also has phenomenal personal control. He can deal with a multi-victim trauma, coax a frightened elderly person to unlock their door, comfort an assault victim’s family, and then read an article in the daily paper about responders being too slow to locate a house (a house which had no street sign and no house numbers.)”
Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the medic. “There’s a leak,” she pronounced. “I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model.”
“That’s not a leak,” said the Lord, “It’s a tear.”
“What’s the tear for?” asked the angel.
“It’s for bottled-up emotions, for patients they’ve tried in vain to save, for commitment to that hope that they will make a difference in a person’s chance to survive, for seeing an accident victim walk again, for the family time they will miss while serving the community, for life.”
“You’re a genius,” said the angel.
The Lord looked somber. “I didn’t put it there,” He said.