I used to recruit people into this job. I can’t anymore.

There was a time when I would proudly tell people to apply to FDNY EMS.

I’d tell them about the privilege of serving New York City. I’d tell them about the camaraderie, the purpose and the indescribable feeling of helping another human being on what may be the worst day of their life. I’d tell them that while the work was hard, it was meaningful.

Today, I can’t do that with a clear conscience.

In fact, if a young person asked me if they should become an EMT or paramedic in New York City, I would tell them not to.

That isn’t something I say lightly. I’ve devoted nearly a quarter century of my life to this profession. It has given me lifelong friendships, unforgettable experiences and a sense of purpose that few careers can offer. But it has also taken an enormous toll—not just on me, but on thousands of EMS professionals who have dedicated themselves to serving this city.

The truth is that FDNY EMS is collapsing in slow motion, and we continue to pretend otherwise.

We respond to over 6,000 emergencies every single day in New York City. Yet we cannot adequately staff ambulances because the people doing the work are leaving faster than we can replace them. We are hemorrhaging talent. Ten to 15 EMTs and paramedics are leaving FDNY EMS every single week. They aren’t retiring. They’re escaping.

They’re leaving for better pay, better working conditions, and careers that don’t require sacrificing their physical and mental health in exchange for poverty wages.

Response times continue to grow. Cardiac arrest patients who once could expect help in six minutes are increasingly waiting twelve or thirteen minutes or longer in some areas. In EMS, minutes aren’t an inconvenience—they are the difference between life and death, brain function and disability, a loved one coming home or never walking through the door again.

And while the public suffers, so do the providers.

Burnout isn’t a buzzword in EMS. It is our reality. It is watching members work endless overtime because there aren’t enough ambulances on the street. It is missing holidays and family events. It is carrying the weight of human tragedy day after day while being told that your work somehow deserves less compensation than your public safety counterparts.

Morale? There is none.

I speak to members every day who feel forgotten and disposable. New EMTs are entering a system where many of their supervisors actively encourage them to use the job as a stepping stone because they know staying isn’t sustainable.

Some of our members are struggling to afford rent in the very city they are sworn to protect. Some are living paycheck to paycheck despite working full-time public safety jobs. We have members facing housing insecurity while responding to the emergencies of millionaires living in luxury high-rises.

Read that sentence again.

The men and women responsible for saving lives in New York City cannot afford to live in New York City.

The mental health crisis within EMS is equally devastating. Since 2020, FDNY EMS has lost 14 members to suicide. Fourteen.

Behind that number are names, families, colleagues, and futures that will never exist. At any given time, union leadership is helping dozens of members struggling with depression, anxiety, trauma and thoughts of self-harm. We are witnessing the consequences of a system that has normalized trauma while offering little meaningful support.

And still, we are expected to smile for recruitment posters.

Who in good conscience would recommend this profession to someone they care about?

I wouldn’t recommend that my niece or nephew apply. I wouldn’t recommend that my friends’ children apply. I wouldn’t recommend that a stranger walking down the street apply.

Not because EMS isn’t noble work. It is.

Not because New Yorkers don’t deserve excellent emergency medical care. They absolutely do.

But because no one deserves to enter a profession where sacrifice is expected and support is optional.

Every year we celebrate EMS Week with proclamations, social media posts, and speeches praising the heroes of emergency medical services. Then the banners come down and nothing changes. The applause stops, the politicians leave, and our members go back to twelve-hour tours in a system that is failing both them and the public.

People often ask why morale is so low in EMS. The answer is simple: morale is impossible when people feel abandoned.

This city cannot continue demanding world-class emergency medical care while treating EMS professionals as second-class public servants.

Until we address pay inequities, staffing shortages, mental health support, and retention, recruitment campaigns are little more than advertising for burnout.

So no—I won’t tell people to apply to FDNY EMS anymore.

I’ll tell them the truth.

I’ll tell them that this job can break your body, challenge your relationships, and test your spirit. I’ll tell them that you will see humanity at both its very best and very worst. I’ll tell them that you will make a difference in people’s lives every single day.

And then I’ll tell them that New York City has not yet decided that difference is worth paying for.

When the people doing the saving can no longer afford to be saved themselves, the system isn’t merely broken.

It’s unsustainable.

And unless something changes soon, the greatest EMS system in the world will become a cautionary tale of what happens when a city takes its healers for granted.

This article initially appeared as a Substack post.