A poem by Matthew Lynch an Ambulance Technician working for the Scottish Ambulance Service.
People are hiding from the danger, trying to take a stand, but we’re sliding into battle mask and apron to hand.
This PPE will protect you, your families will be glad, but why every time I wear it, I can’t help but feel sad.
Keep your distance, risk assess, but what is it I’m going into at that address?
We’ve got these special masks to wear when times get rather hard, but we don’t have them at the moment so just be on your guard.
Make the decision to whether people live or die, while we try to get this great supply.
Your colleagues may get sick, some will sadly pass, but everyone rumbles on, fighting this thing on mass.
I cannot see my family, I will not risk them fall, but am I just a carrier, giving it to one and all?
You’ve seen the worst, you will try your best, it does very little to not feel stressed.
Families will cry and families will mourn and we’re stuck in the middle incredibly torn.
These days will pass, you’ll weather the storm but what’s up next because of the stresses that we’ve worn?