Ambulance Quotes

“The half-mourning siren of the ambulance, like the funeral wail of the conch, upbraids the dozing guards at every door.”
― Suman Pokhrel

“By listening to the “unspoken voice” of my body and allowing it to do what it needed to do; by not stopping the shaking, by “tracking” my inner sensations, while also allowing the completion of the defensive and orienting responses; and by feeling the “survival emotions” of rage and terror without becoming overwhelmed, I came through mercifully unscathed, both physically and emotionally. I was not only thankful; I was humbled and grateful to find that I could use my method for my own salvation.

While some people are able to recover from such trauma on their own, many individuals do not. Tens of thousands of soldiers are experiencing the extreme stress and horror of war. Then too, there are the devastating occurrences of rape, sexual abuse and assault. Many of us, however, have been overwhelmed by much more “ordinary” events such as surgeries or invasive medical procedures. Orthopedic patients in a recent study, for example, showed a 52% occurrence of being diagnosed with full-on PTSD following surgery.

Other traumas include falls, serious illnesses, abandonment, receiving shocking or tragic news, witnessing violence and getting into an
auto accident; all can lead to PTSD. These and many other fairly common experiences are all potentially traumatizing. The inability to rebound from such events, or to be helped adequately to recover by professionals, can subject us to PTSD—along with a myriad of physical and emotional symptoms.”
― Peter A. Levine

“I can’t seem to wipe away the blood. I rub my hands against my nightgown, but traces of the red remain, staining the lines of my palms and the crescents beneath my fingernails. I wipe harder, gathering and bunching the soft cotton inside my fists. The fabric has been slit up the center and for a moment I worry that I’ve been cut, that maybe the blood is my own. I try to ask what’s happening, but there’s a mask over my mouth and nose. Suddenly it hits me—I’m in an ambulance.

I don’t remember how I got here.”
― Paula Stokes, Vicarious

“Patients are almost always preceded by their parents, because no matter how fast an ambulance can drive, terrified parents can drive faster.”
― John Green, Double On-Call and Other Stories

“Despite their authoritarian light show, those ice-cream trucks of death couldn't do any more for Perkus's murdered infatuation, his crushed crush, than could keening Greek chorus, or a moaning witch doctor.”
― Jonathan Lethem, Chronic City

“Later, months later, when Jude thought back to the way it all went down -how did a burnout like him end up straight edge?- he'd remember that ambulance, just like the one he'd been unconscious inside. Its red cross, when viewed from the right angle, was an X on its side.”
― Eleanor Henderson, Ten Thousand Saints

“Speed does not always kill. And not only that, sometimes speed saves a life.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“The way most people use their minds is analogous to an ambulance that is used only as an umbrella.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“One of the triumphs of civilisation, Peter Walsh thought. It is one of the triumphs of civilisation, as the light high bell of the ambulance sounded. Swiftly, cleanly, the ambulance sped to the hospital, having picked up instantly, humanely, some poor devil; some one hit on the head, struck down by disease, knocked over perhaps a minute or so ago at one of these crossings, as might happen to oneself. That was civilisation. It struck him coming back from the East - the efficiency, the organisation, the communal spirit of London. Every cart or carriage of its own accord drew aside to let the ambulance pass. Perhaps it was morbid; or was it not touching rather, the respect which they showed this ambulance with its victim inside- busy men hurrying home, yet instantly bethinking them as it passed of some wife; or presumably how easily it might have been them there, stretched on a shelf with a doctor and a nurse.”
― Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

“I attribute my ability to diagnose and treat my chronic health conditions to the Red Cross and St. John’s Ambulance training that I did in my youth.”
― Steven Magee

“The Chariot Cometh by Stewart Stafford

O gleaming chariot of restoration,
Ferrying that tortuous animal, Man,
Ministering as Gods to mortals,
Dispensing the miracle of rebirth.

Woe to that lost, delinquent essedum,
Neglecting and failing malcontents,
Memories fade in mind, not in heart,
Angel of mercy now a spirit of vengeance.

Grief stalks the mad and jealous soul,
Juggling coals of rectitude and retribution,
Scalded palms scant refuge from pain,
Let savagery flee to its depths, be free.

Examine the formidable hand-me-downs,
And transform them into life's armour,
Or be an infant in hanging father's flesh,
Abdicating the procession of succession.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Give way to the ambulance may be in there someone's love,

Give way to the ambulance may be in there someone they cared,

Give way to the ambulance may be in there someone's close,

Give way to the ambulance may be in there someone's beloved,

Give way to the ambulance may be in there someone treasured,

Give way to the ambulance may be in there someone they valued,

Give way to the ambulance may be in there someone's world,

Give way to the ambulance may be in there someone they needed!”
― Aiyaz Uddin

“A hospital job is a lemon job.”
― Steven Magee

“The Bad Halloween: A Crazies Night Chronicle by Stewart Stafford

I'm Rich—ambulance medic on Crazies Night,
Demented chariot driver in the mediverse,
Skeleton crew for swarms of ailing impostors,
Our dashboard crucifix, buffeting every curse.

Jittery, side-burned Jeff riding shotgun,
I tease his grumbling about missing fun:
"A toast with your Pumpkin Spice Latte!
Breakfast on me when our shift is done."

Behind us, a female living portrait groaned—
Drunk or high, headfirst, she kissed the road.
Mona Lisa frame unmounted for treatment,
delirious spoilers dropped for The Da Vinci Code!

Death's Reaper stood daring us in our path;
graveyard shift, centre line, gleaming scythe.
Brakes jammed, sirens blared, the prank waned—
This gothic vigilante traffic cop waved us by!

We dropped Patient Moaner at the hospital,
Jeff smoked, and I ate canteen Colcannon,
Our "bat signal" crackled, flashed in the cab:
"Cosplay brawl at the Hotel Shannon."

We drove off for more Boo-Boo Bus Bedlam
to hit our Gotham's streets and tend the injured.
Catherine wheel jack-o-lantern through windscreen;
The Pumpkin Bomber’s cackle went unheard.

Ears temporarily-deafened, thumbs up given;
Faces, hands, arms burned—scarred medics.
Flying glass cuts on our cheeks and necks:
Carers now mummified patients: sideline critics.

The first cracks of dawn chase shadows away;
A Grand Grimoire yielding to Grey's Anatomy,
Our carriage—the repair yard's hollow gourd,
All-Saints sunrise feast to shed All Hallows' agony.

On the Lord of Death's night, we didn't die:
Weary defiance met coffee and pumpkin pie.

© 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford