This is my first post, but I have a different blog, that had these stories mixed in with my rantings of infertility. (Waiting for the pot to boil.) Soooo, I will dig through that blog and bring those stories over and start posting some new ones. Oh the fodder never runs out, believe me!
And now, before all the silly stuff, my worst call ever:
I have gotten small children calling 911 because, "Daddy is hitting Mommy," I have spoken with a victim after she was raped, I spoke with a female as she watched her friend die, and with a mother whose 4 year old found his Dad hanging in the alley behind their house. One amazing call was a woman who was hiding in the bathroom while her would be attacker tried to get into the bathroom where she was hiding. I can honestly say the funny and mundane calls far outweigh the bad and the horrific, but sometimes... Believe it or not, I really didn't take any of the above calls home with me. I can do my job because when I log off the computer and put away my headset, I also "put away" any ugliness that I heard that day. I used to lay on the floor and roll around with my 4 dogs for therapy, as needed, now even the thought of my son can clear away any lingering moodiness. Every dispatcher has at least one call that sticks with them and they carry it along with them at work, always. It makes them a better dispatcher, if it isn't so bad that you quit. It also makes you stronger and harder. You would think you could predict the kind of call that would cut to the bone, but you can't. It depends on what is most personal to you and what is going on in your life at that time. When I was pregnant, I took a call of a "baby hit by a car" I spoke with the lady who hit the child accidentally when he ran into traffic. First thought I had, was how can a baby run into traffic? (He was a 2 year old in diapers), next thoughts were, me just feeling horrible for the driver. I hit a child with my car when I was 19, (also not my fault), but talking with that woman brought up how horrible that experince was. Doesn't matter if you are at fault or not, there is still a memory of your vehicle hitting someone so small that you have to live with always. That call, I pray, will make me a more vigillant mom when it comes to holding onto my son's hand when I am in a parking lot or out on the street. I used to think those toddler harnesses are cruel but after this call, I wonder if they make them for kids as old as ten...[Side note: though badly injured and still recovering over a year later, that little guy pulled through.] I digress, the call that stays with me was 30 seconds long at most, but it was not the call, it was what happened after the call that I can't let go of. It is really hard to explain, and it may sound like, no worse than any other horrible call, but it just hurt. Most of the stories I have told and will tell are funny, or ridiculous but I'd like to share with you the call that I carry with me. I was working at the larger agency as a 911 call taker that day. Some days we took business calls and rollover 911s other days just 911. The radio room where the dispatchers talked to the officers was in the next room. If a 911 call came in the calltaker typed in the address and information, hit enter, it went to the correct radio dispatcher and often, no matter how bad, was forgotten about by the call taker. There were just too many calls coming in to remember every single one of them. Many times I would write down the event number on a piece of paper, swearing to follow up and see what happened, only to completely forget about it by the end of the day. So, this lady calls in and says she is concerned about her elderly friend Pierre. Pierre had just called her and said he was upset about his wife dying and he was going to shoot himself. He asked her please not to call 911 for a half an hour, but the lady didn't want to wait. She called 911 immediately. Oh my gosh, I thought, we can save this one! I typed so fast and shot that information over to the radio room. I checked the status of the officers. Several were 10-8 (available) a few on traffic stops and one on a parking complaint. And nobody was dispatched. I kept checking, thinking, come on, come on hurry up, clear someone already! 5-10 minute later it was time for my lunch break and still no one had been dispatched. I went over and visited with my friend and former trainer, Chuck who was also on the phone side and I told him how angry I was no one had been dispatched to this particular call yet. Chuck always "gets it."
So I went on my lunch break and couldn't stop thinking about that call. That is not like me, I should have known right then to harden myself, but that is not something I had learned yet. I came back from lunch, sat down and brought up the call. Units dispatched, and 97 (arrived) good, good. Perimeter set? Why? They are wasting precious time! (Since becoming a radio dispatcher, I get that part now--the subject had a gun, and suicide by cop is becoming more and more of a problem), but at the time, it was just one more thing delaying us helping the gentleman. So I scrolled down, page after page of boring details, and I am quietly chanting, "Please God, please God, please God, please." Finally I got ready to bring up the disposition, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Hit the button to bring up the answer I had been waiting for and read:
GUNSHOT WOUND TO THE FACE, VICTIM STILL GURGLING
And I completely lost it. I clicked a button on my screen so I wouldn't get any incoming 911 calls and I just sobbed. I stood up and I walked to the window out in the hallway that looked out at the city. A supervisor came up and asked me if I was OK, but she said it like she only asked because she had to. She was phony and she was slick and I was repulsed. All I could say over and over was, "Get me Chuck, please just get me Chuck." And Chuck came, and he didn't try to make me feel better. He said, "I looked at that call while you were out, I saw the disposition, and I said, "someone needs to find Rebecca" because I just knew how upset you would be." Now you can understand why I wanted Chuck. Some people would come by and say, "It's not your fault, there was nothing more you could have done." And I would fill with rage, because they didn't get it. I know it wasn't my fault, I did everything I could. I took the call and I was so fast getting it to the radio room, and it just SAT THERE. I wasn't crying because I was sad or felt I messed up, I was furious because in my naivete I believed we could have saved him, but we were too slow. It took me a long time to realize, people who are set on killing themselves cannot be saved. If they are serious about it, really serious, there are no magic words; they will do it. If they are calling 911, either it is a cry for help; something they have not yet commited to, something they started to do, (wrists or pills) and regret their decision, or it is to let us know where to find their body. That last one sounds harsh but it is absolutely true. I do think this made me a better radio dispatcher. I will never know why officers weren't pulled from other calls, suicide is a priorty E which at that agency it meant officers should have been enroute within 30 seconds but I do know I will always take such calls seriously and handle them with the utmost care. Pierre killed himself because he could not live without his beloved wife of 50 years who had just died of cancer. At that time my Grandpa B had just lost my Grandma B, after 50+ years of marriage and I was already worrying how he was going to hold up. I guess that is why it struck a nerve.
So, now you know my innermost feelings as a 911 dispatcher. I assure you this blog won't always be so dark; this job is just way to funny usually, but you gotta hear both sides, so you too can "get it."
And now, before all the silly stuff, my worst call ever:
I have gotten small children calling 911 because, "Daddy is hitting Mommy," I have spoken with a victim after she was raped, I spoke with a female as she watched her friend die, and with a mother whose 4 year old found his Dad hanging in the alley behind their house. One amazing call was a woman who was hiding in the bathroom while her would be attacker tried to get into the bathroom where she was hiding. I can honestly say the funny and mundane calls far outweigh the bad and the horrific, but sometimes... Believe it or not, I really didn't take any of the above calls home with me. I can do my job because when I log off the computer and put away my headset, I also "put away" any ugliness that I heard that day. I used to lay on the floor and roll around with my 4 dogs for therapy, as needed, now even the thought of my son can clear away any lingering moodiness. Every dispatcher has at least one call that sticks with them and they carry it along with them at work, always. It makes them a better dispatcher, if it isn't so bad that you quit. It also makes you stronger and harder. You would think you could predict the kind of call that would cut to the bone, but you can't. It depends on what is most personal to you and what is going on in your life at that time. When I was pregnant, I took a call of a "baby hit by a car" I spoke with the lady who hit the child accidentally when he ran into traffic. First thought I had, was how can a baby run into traffic? (He was a 2 year old in diapers), next thoughts were, me just feeling horrible for the driver. I hit a child with my car when I was 19, (also not my fault), but talking with that woman brought up how horrible that experince was. Doesn't matter if you are at fault or not, there is still a memory of your vehicle hitting someone so small that you have to live with always. That call, I pray, will make me a more vigillant mom when it comes to holding onto my son's hand when I am in a parking lot or out on the street. I used to think those toddler harnesses are cruel but after this call, I wonder if they make them for kids as old as ten...[Side note: though badly injured and still recovering over a year later, that little guy pulled through.] I digress, the call that stays with me was 30 seconds long at most, but it was not the call, it was what happened after the call that I can't let go of. It is really hard to explain, and it may sound like, no worse than any other horrible call, but it just hurt. Most of the stories I have told and will tell are funny, or ridiculous but I'd like to share with you the call that I carry with me. I was working at the larger agency as a 911 call taker that day. Some days we took business calls and rollover 911s other days just 911. The radio room where the dispatchers talked to the officers was in the next room. If a 911 call came in the calltaker typed in the address and information, hit enter, it went to the correct radio dispatcher and often, no matter how bad, was forgotten about by the call taker. There were just too many calls coming in to remember every single one of them. Many times I would write down the event number on a piece of paper, swearing to follow up and see what happened, only to completely forget about it by the end of the day. So, this lady calls in and says she is concerned about her elderly friend Pierre. Pierre had just called her and said he was upset about his wife dying and he was going to shoot himself. He asked her please not to call 911 for a half an hour, but the lady didn't want to wait. She called 911 immediately. Oh my gosh, I thought, we can save this one! I typed so fast and shot that information over to the radio room. I checked the status of the officers. Several were 10-8 (available) a few on traffic stops and one on a parking complaint. And nobody was dispatched. I kept checking, thinking, come on, come on hurry up, clear someone already! 5-10 minute later it was time for my lunch break and still no one had been dispatched. I went over and visited with my friend and former trainer, Chuck who was also on the phone side and I told him how angry I was no one had been dispatched to this particular call yet. Chuck always "gets it."
So I went on my lunch break and couldn't stop thinking about that call. That is not like me, I should have known right then to harden myself, but that is not something I had learned yet. I came back from lunch, sat down and brought up the call. Units dispatched, and 97 (arrived) good, good. Perimeter set? Why? They are wasting precious time! (Since becoming a radio dispatcher, I get that part now--the subject had a gun, and suicide by cop is becoming more and more of a problem), but at the time, it was just one more thing delaying us helping the gentleman. So I scrolled down, page after page of boring details, and I am quietly chanting, "Please God, please God, please God, please." Finally I got ready to bring up the disposition, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Hit the button to bring up the answer I had been waiting for and read:
GUNSHOT WOUND TO THE FACE, VICTIM STILL GURGLING
And I completely lost it. I clicked a button on my screen so I wouldn't get any incoming 911 calls and I just sobbed. I stood up and I walked to the window out in the hallway that looked out at the city. A supervisor came up and asked me if I was OK, but she said it like she only asked because she had to. She was phony and she was slick and I was repulsed. All I could say over and over was, "Get me Chuck, please just get me Chuck." And Chuck came, and he didn't try to make me feel better. He said, "I looked at that call while you were out, I saw the disposition, and I said, "someone needs to find Rebecca" because I just knew how upset you would be." Now you can understand why I wanted Chuck. Some people would come by and say, "It's not your fault, there was nothing more you could have done." And I would fill with rage, because they didn't get it. I know it wasn't my fault, I did everything I could. I took the call and I was so fast getting it to the radio room, and it just SAT THERE. I wasn't crying because I was sad or felt I messed up, I was furious because in my naivete I believed we could have saved him, but we were too slow. It took me a long time to realize, people who are set on killing themselves cannot be saved. If they are serious about it, really serious, there are no magic words; they will do it. If they are calling 911, either it is a cry for help; something they have not yet commited to, something they started to do, (wrists or pills) and regret their decision, or it is to let us know where to find their body. That last one sounds harsh but it is absolutely true. I do think this made me a better radio dispatcher. I will never know why officers weren't pulled from other calls, suicide is a priorty E which at that agency it meant officers should have been enroute within 30 seconds but I do know I will always take such calls seriously and handle them with the utmost care. Pierre killed himself because he could not live without his beloved wife of 50 years who had just died of cancer. At that time my Grandpa B had just lost my Grandma B, after 50+ years of marriage and I was already worrying how he was going to hold up. I guess that is why it struck a nerve.
So, now you know my innermost feelings as a 911 dispatcher. I assure you this blog won't always be so dark; this job is just way to funny usually, but you gotta hear both sides, so you too can "get it."
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