School

Coming back to school, I've had a bit of a difficult time readjusting. It's not been easy taking things slower, concentrating on homework and research instead of work all the time. Nonetheless, it's been a good change. My graduation date has been nailed down, December 2014, a little over a year away. I'm close, and it's exciting! I'm considering going to grad school at the University of Texas at El Paso, not too far from home and somewhere I'm familiar with. Coming back to school and reuniting with friends and professors has brought back a memory of a 911 call I took sometime during the month of May. It was horrific, something I hope no operator or dispatcher ever has to go through.

"911, your emergency?"
"Sir, send help please! We need an ambulance!"

It was from the town down in south county, but coming from a cell phone so I couldn't get an address right away. It was a younger person, couldn't have been any older than 16. It sounded bad from the start. The teen was yelling, urgently and demandingly.

"Okay, stay with me. We're gonna send help, okay? Tell me the location of your emergency."
"I'm at the school, in the metal shop! Our teacher, hurry! I think he had a heart attack, hurry please sir.."

This was a nightmare. It had to be.

"Okay, please stay on the line with me, do not hang up. Has somebody started CPR yet?"
"Yes, they're doing CPR now. Please hurry!"
"About how old is your teacher?"
"I don't know, forty something.."
"And how long has he been unconscious?"
"Like 2 or 3 minutes, please hurry..."
"Okay, please don't hang up."

"Central 565, Central 565, respond to a male subject, approximately 40 years of age, unresponsive at the metal shop at the high school. Subject has been unconscious for approximately 3 minutes. Subject has no pulse and is not breathing, CPR in progress. Break, available 900 units in the area, advise with 565. 1422 Central Clear."
"565, Copy."
"907 Central, 10-4 Code 3 en route!"
"565, 907 10-4 1422."

565 is the ambulance for the town down south. The 900 units were ISD Police Officers.

"Okay, I've got EMS and campus police going over there right now, okay? You did really good.."
"Thank you so much.. Please tell them to hurry.."
"They are going over there right now. I want you to stay on the phone with me until they get there okay?"
"Okay, I will."
"What's your name?"
"My name is David.."
"Okay, David. Listen, you did good. I want you to try and get everybody outside unless they are helping with CPR, okay? Just help..."
"The police are here!"
"Okay, good. Follow his instructions, okay? You did good.."

"907 Central, On Scene!"
"907 10-4 1424."

"Okay David, you did a very good job.. I'm going to let you hang up the phone alright?"
"Okay, thank you so much.."
"You're welcome. We're going to do everything we can..."
"Thank you...."
*click*

I grab my water bottle and take a sip, pull out the banana from my lunch box and eat it in small pieces. I feel like shit, really. EMS checks out shortly after PD, and then I wait for the verdict. I know that very few people come back from having a heart attack, but I'm hopeful, as I always am. I have a pounding headache now, and I wish we had a quiet room.

The despair, the terror, the sheer and utter pain from that child's voice. It resonates with me, deep in my psyche. I take a few deep breaths, and sit back down. I didn't even realize I was standing, and I don't know at what point I stood up.

5 minutes pass, 10 minutes, 15.. I'm starting to get impatient. The phone rings, and startles me.

"Sheriff's Office."
"Hey Daniel, this is Medic 311. Can you send the JP over and start the funeral home?"
"Yeah, sure thing.."
"Alright, thanks. We'll standby until she gets here."
"Alright.. Thanks.."

The rest of the shift was fairly quiet. One by one, units started checking back into service. I felt band for the students, the EMT's, the officers, everybody involved. It was a tragic, tragic event. However, what can one do? Say a prayer, perform to the best of one's abilities, and just know that that's how it had to be. For whatever reason, that's how he died, and it's just how it is.

Even today, I look back at that one particular call. I had enough calls before that where people didn't make it, so it wasn't bad in that respect. I just hope that the students and all involved got the help and counseling they needed. It's not an easy thing to literally witness somebody die. Sometimes, though, I think it's even harder going through it completely blinded.

Disconnection

So, I've been away from dispatching for around 3 weeks. So far, it's been.. difficult. I hear sirens, see a patrol unit running code, drive by one of my old coworkers, and all I can do is hope, wonder, and feel a little more disconnected I miss running 27's, 29's, 28's, 43's. I miss saying "911, what is your emergency?," not knowing what could await me on the other end. I miss dispatching ambulances and deputies, being in on the action and having that feeling of accomplishment. I miss it all.

A few days ago, I went to lunch with a coworker from Campus PD. His name is Aaron. He's a freshman, and has been a great person to get to know. We walked into Pizza Hut and, low and behold, there are two of my ex-deputies sitting there. "Daniel!" they both exclaimed, happy to see me. I went over, shook hands, and caught up with them a little bit. We asked one another how things were going, mulling through the usual stuff. Then I said "How are things in dispatch?" One of them plainly said "It's different. It's not the same without you." Enter guilty jerkwad feeling.. Just what I needed, another reason for me to miss my job.

I'm not trying to gloat, nor am I saying I am the best dispatcher in the world, by far!, but I was good at what I did in that comm center. And nothing pains me more than to hear that things are simply "different." I'm slowly moving on, still reading license plates in my head on my commute, and longing for my spot back under the headset.

Dispatchers, I've come to find that the profession I was in was the worst job I would ever love. It was what I had always wanted. Sometimes, I feel like I sold myself short by quitting my job and going back to school. Yet, on the other hand, I feel like I screwed myself by getting into the business too soon. I probably never should have taken the job in the first place. I'm tempted, but cautious, to say that this job is quite like a drug.. It's addictive, will cause withdraws, yet is oh so satisfying once you get the fix..