Kill The Umpire!

They say you learn something new everyday. Last week, I learned something very important: Umpiring little league baseball is not my thing.. However, the experience gave me a new insight into my job. How? Allow me to explain..

It was a nice Tuesday evening, nothing out of the ordinary. I was getting ready to head to the little league field to announce the game for the evening. Unfortunately, a storm rolled into town and that was that, so I thought.

 *phone rings*
"Daniel?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"Hey, I need a favor.."
"Um, sure. Whats up?"
"Can you umpire the little league game? The guy who was gonna do it before can't anymore."

At this moment, I should have flat out said no. However, being the "fearless" person I am, I felt compelled to say...

"SURE!"

While I wasn't good at umpiring, per se, I found it was a lot like dispatching. Here are five common ground areas I found between the two.

1) Everybody thinks they can do it better, but it's much harder than it looks.
2) You have to make split second decisions, and stand by them no matter what.
3) You have to be coordinated and know what you're doing.
4) Dealing with angry people is a given and you have to keep your cool, no matter what happens.
5) Things are getting thrown your way at high speeds and you aren't allowed to dodge them.

I hope you've taken away something from this short, quirky post. I hope to write more, but work has been busy! Keep being awesome, my fellow dispatchers!

Vocation

10 years ago, 5 years, even 3 years ago, I never could have imagined being where I am today. I'm 21 years old, a college student, and a 911 dispatcher. I never could have imagined being able to make a difference in my community, and being in a profession I could see myself in for a lifetime. I literally mean that with all my being. I'm not sure how many, or even if any other dispatchers go through this moment in their career. It's part reward, part pride, part confusion. How? Here's my dilemma..

If I would have known I would be taking 911 calls, sending out cars to domestics and accidents, and rolling out rescue units to structure fires, I don't think I ever would have gone to college. For me, this job doesn't require some kind of advanced degree with knowledge like knowing the year the civil war ended or the process of photosynthesis. However, that doesn't mean that this job doesn't require a lot of knowledge and skill. It takes a special kind of skill, one that few have and fewer can properly use.

Many years ago, I found out I was good at working with computers. Troubleshooting, installing hardware, the stuff that makes people want to throw their monitor clear across the room. So I wanted to go to school to learn to become a computer engineer. Three words: TOO MUCH MATH. I hate numbers, hate algebra, hate working out equations with a passion. Not for me.. Then, I found out I liked hearing people's problems, and trying to help them sort our their (at the time) teenage dramas. Psychology it was! But not really.. I didn't want to learn about chemical structures and hormones that cause this or that reaction that cause us to feel a certain way. How about communication?! I was great at public speaking, had a knack for being good with words, and had even worked at a local radio station as an intern. I decided I wanted to go into the field most dispatchers don't like: MEDIA. Yes, I wanted, and still sort of want, to be in the TV business, either working as a reporter or a producer.

That brings me to the present; I'm working on my bachelors degree in communication with a minor in... criminal justice. Ironic? Nah.. But as I mentioned above, I don't think my degree helps me a whole lot with what I'm doing now. I don't necessarily need to know about how people communicate, but instead be able to communicate things and do it well.  Instead of reporting the outcome of an accident to a camera, I have to report it to my supervisor with more detail, knowing exactly who went, when, where, times, units, etc.. It's overwhelming. I'm confused as to what I want to do, and I think part of it is because I really love my job, and I'm only 21. However, I'm in a profession I could see myself in for a long time. Not because of the money, and definitely not because of the fame and publicity (heavy emphasis intended on that last part). Instead, I'm in the job because I feel at peace knowing that I am making a difference doing what I do. I take calls, I dispatch, I save lives. There are few greater feelings in the world.

Dispatchers are called upon daily to go above and beyond the call of duty, saving lives, restoring order, and trying to sort through many facts and rumors about situations as they are made known and reported. They learn as they go, and there is always something to improve on. We have rules, regulations, policies, procedures, all these things that govern how we have to do our jobs. We don't sit in a lab trying to develop a vaccination for the next strain of the flu, nor do we sit in our corporate offices atop a large sky scraper counting $100 bills all day. Few, if any, of us are here against our will. We choose to be the ones to answer the call, dispatch the unit, and hope, pray, and know we made a difference in somebody's life. It's a calling to answer the call of becoming a dispatcher. A calling that carries a heavy burden, but at the same time is so awesomely rewarding.

Are you okay?

Three simple words. They can have such a great impact on you. Maybe hearing these words makes you feel better about the priority 1 medical you just took. Or, maybe these words will bring you to your knees, weeping and sobbing over the infant that unexpectedly passed away. When is the last time somebody outside of this field of work asked you this and truly meant it? When can you say somebody truthfully wanted to know if all the calls and situations you deal with daily have taken any sort of toll on you mentally or emotionally? For me, nobody really has, not in a long while anyway. But again, that's what we get paid for, right?

But not exactly.. Yes, we're paid to hold it together when the going gets tough. But we are human too. We want to be there for that person, to have sympathy and compassion, to let them know that we aren't just a programmed robot taking their call, but a real human being. You want to comfort them, be there for them, make them feel like somebody actually cares about them in their time of distress. Sure, you have to get the help out there and make sure something gets done. But sometimes when you know things have already taken a turn for the worst, all you want to do is reach through your headset and give the sobbing mother on the other end a hug and tell her everything is going to be ok, even if you know it's not the best day ever. Am I on the right track?

So many people forget that there is a human side to this business. It isn't all about disconnecting from your emotions and forgetting it all, as most think happens. We hear things, experience things that nobody should ever have to experience. Yet, the status quo says "that's why they're." What most people don't realize is that sometimes, all we want to do is run to the bathroom and have us a good long cry. It could be anything, a freak accident, a sudden death, a suicidal subject. Nobody knows what we hear through that headset, the secrets we are told and then forced to have engrained in our minds. This end of the headset is rarely a nice place to be. We live through it daily. And many of us have to find our own peace, wherever that may be.

Again, it's not to say that every call we get involves somebody who is dying or suicidal. But occasionally, you get that call that rattles you a little too much, resonates deep within your psyche. You take that call that turns your stomach, the call that makes you want a cigarette or a beer, and you don't even drink or smoke. You think about it, dwelling on minor details that you think could have made a difference. You feel for those who had to go through that experience, the EMT who performed CPR for 30 minutes straight to no avail. You think about the students that witnessed their teacher collapse to the floor. You feel their sense of helplessness, their cries of distress. And you did what you could do, but it was already too late..

I think that's one thing that is hard to accept; sometimes, it's just how it has to be. Call it divine intervention or a fact of life, people die, some sooner than others. People suffer life changing injuries that you can't fix, no matter how much you want them to be fully restored. People's lives are changed in an instant, whether it be from poor health, or the poor choices of others. It's not to say we don't get good moments in this job, but not many people call 911 because something happens to be going well at that particular moment in their life. Yet, we keep moving forward, protecting and serving the public with our voices speaking through headsets, resonating over 911 lines and radios throughout all the land. It's what we do and what we love. We are here not for one particular group of people, but for the commonwealth of our communities. We have the best job in the world anybody could ever hate. And we love every moment of it... right?

Terror

To any Boston First Responder:

My heart goes out to you. Nobody should ever have to go through what happened today. Seeing people hurting, crying, missing body parts. That is such a horrific scene to have to take in. And my dispatchers, I applaud you for doing such a good job today. I heard the audio recording today of the event, and it was bone chilling. To see these images on the news is one thing. But to have to go through this entire situation blindly, without any eyes to see the magnitude of what you had to handle... I would be drained, emotionally and physically. You did so well. You rose above and beyond the call of duty, making sure that you did what you had to do in order to save lives and try and restore the peace of one of the greatest cities in America. God bless you.

When something like this happened in the past, all I could think was "poor officer, firefighter, EMT." The faces on TV, the ones physically responding to the incident, those were the people I thanked in my mind. Now, the story has changed. The thanks these groups of brave men and women are no less, but instead are shared with those in the ranks of emergency dispatching. When something like this happens, it's not just sending an ambulance for an MVA or rescue for a house fire. When a mass casualty incident occurs, especially in a place like this, there seem to be different feelings that get thrown into the mix. Patriotism. Vengeance. Sadness. Fear. Working an incident like this just makes it harder to fathom what the outcome might be, and who would have the nerve, and mental capacity, to make something like this happen. It's a shame that everyday could be your last, not always because of something you do, but because of the acts of others that cause injury and harm to completely innocent people.

With this, I yield back, for now. I'm sure as the days and weeks progress, more details will emerge that will either help the situation, or make me more sick to my stomach. And seeing that it's NTW, I can only say THANK YOU Dispatchers, in Boston and everywhere around the world. For without you, those who help would have nowhere to go, and nobody would get the help they needed.

-DH

Bosses and Light Switches

This is going to be a combined post because I have a bit to talk about on two different subjects, but didn't want to waste anybody's time posting two smaller entries. Plus, the two seem to tie in together in a weird sort of fashion.

My first topic has to do a lot with the workplace, specifically, interaction with our favorite, or maybe not so favorite person, our supervisor. Working for a small agency, my immediate supervisor is the sheriff's secretary. The head honcho of our whole department is, well, the sheriff. He has the final say on just about everything we do in the comm center regarding policy, changes, etc. He's a great guy and I really like him. I know I have heard people before complain about their supervisors in the comm center. I've heard everything from complaints about their attitude and poor work ethic to blatantly degrading the people below them on the not-so-corporate food chain. We're all in this together, aren't we?

This is where that second topic starts working its way into the equation... Very rarely does the aforementioned head honcho get to see what goes on in dispatch on a regular basis, and that's only because he is busy trying to tend to all the other requests people seem to need him for. He's a busy guy and it's totally understandable! On the other hand, that means that when he is in the comm center, especially when you're on your own, you try to do everything according to protocol. A few mornings ago was one of those "perfect" scenarios that seemed to play out like clockwork. I was visiting with the sheriff when the 911 line went off. It happened to be a party who was involved in a domestic in progress. Best believe that for those few minutes, that switch in my brain went from chatty and laid back to totally serious and ready to go. I got units rolling, got description from the party involved, took all the info I could, relayed it here and there, etc. I even answered and transferred a few non-emergency calls and took info for a traffic stop.

While all this was going on, boss man was staring at me, partly in amazement, and partly (what looked like) in fear. What if I missed something, or somebody didn't get the info they needed? Not the case. After taking the right info, getting it out, and clearing both the traffic and domestic, everything was 10-4 and it was back to sitting waiting for trouble to happen. I think I even struck up conversation right where it left off, no questions asked about anything. It was quite riveting.

There are two things that I want to make clear in this post. First, my boss is awesome and I am grateful that my supervisors are great people. I truly am sorry for those who have to deal with poor upper-level management. Secondly, I have to say, dispatchers are just wired differently. There are times where I am carrying on 3 or 4 different conversations simultaneously, and I have to know what's going on with each one. We have to know, at a moment's notice, what to do, who to call, and where to send the help. And sometimes, we are the only help that person has until somebody can physically get there. We man the radio, the PSAP, the phone, the intercom system, everything under the sun that could possibly be in a comm center is normally under our control. We get to know how to work all of it, know when to use it all, blah, blah, blah... Our job is not your run of the mill "sit at a desk and take phone calls for the boss" kind of job.  It's the kind of job where you have to know what you are doing, when, and why.

Don't let us fool you. 911 dispatchers have to be smart, witty, and slightly cynical to work in this business. Officers take a call here and there, clearing one and waiting for another. We get a call, then another call, then another, clear the first, and answer yet another. We get all the calls. Honestly, you have to be a special person to work in the hot seat, behind the mic of a console. I think I've got what it takes, and I know others do too. We are the calming voice in the darkness of the night, relaying information and keeping the peace. We are Dispatchers.

The Waiting Game

Some might disagree, but I have to say that dispatching in a small town is harder on your emotions than doing it in a larger city. In a large city, bad things happen everyday, all the time. But in a small town, when you look up at the screen on the 911 system and you see the address of your neighbor, your preacher, your best friend's grandmother, it seems to make the call 1,000% harder to handle. Not necessarily because you know who might be on the other end, but more so because you know many people that would be affected if, Lord forbid, things decide to go south on the call.  Small communities are great places to live. Low crime rates, a friendly atmosphere, it's a very inviting domain. But something that comes with dispatching in a small community, especially if you originate from the area, is the risk you are taking knowing that the next person who calls 911 could somebody you know, or somebody who knows somebody you know. Do you follow?

Small communities, like the one where I live, tend to be very tight-knit. It's the kind of town where you drive down the main drag and wave at every single car that passes you by, either because you know the driver, or because they graduated from high school with your parents. Something that I've had a hard time coming to grips with is that yes, someday, I may be on 911 with my friend/neighbor/relative, and I can't really break from being what I am, a 911 operator. I don't want to get on the 911 and say "by the way, this is me." It seems unprofessional for one, and secondly, what if somebody on the other end is called to the other side by the Lord and it's because of something I could have done better. I don't think I could live with that kind of guilt. I'd go crazy.

It was said in the book "Answering 911: Life In The Hot Seat" by Caroline Burau that on her drive home, she would drive past houses and know the kinds of secrets those houses held. The things that happened at that residence that would probably be better kept under wraps. Do we want to know these things? Do we choose to know that the house on the corner of 5th and Main is where the troubled teen tried to overdose on medication and take their own life? Not even. But it's what we are called to do.

As I've said before, I make a living doing something many people would never consider even trying to attempt. It's a very scary feeling knowing that when you are on a 911 with somebody, you are their lifeline, and sometimes the only means they have of communicating with anybody at all. It's almost like you become a part of the person. You have to be their voice, changed from distress and despair to calm and understanding on the radio. You have to be the hands that perform CPR on the unknown subject who collapsed on the sidewalk in the middle of town. For the time being, you have ultimate knowledge of the situation and what is going on at every endpoint, from patient to help. And that feeling is quite scary.

So as I sit here waiting for EMS to give me a disposition from the priority 1 call they went on a while ago, I can only appreciate my position here, and pray to God that I truly am making a difference.

Sirens

That moment when you can hear the sirens through your headset. It brings you a sense of comfort, for more reasons than one.. You know help has finally arrived, for whoever happens to be dying in your ear. If you’re optimistic, you know that somebody is going to be saved, cared for, or at least taken somewhere they can get help.

I have a soft spot for the elderly. I lost my great-grandmother the summer after I graduated from high school. For around 6 years of my early life, she was my caretaker. Not just a babysitter, no, because those normally just give you a juice box and let you run around in the yard until you are tired enough to take a nap. But she was more. She showed me things, like how to pray and how to speak Spanish. I had a deep connection with her, and I believe she felt the same connection with me. Her passing was hard, and I’m not sure if I’ve totally gained closure. But I try. 

I received a 911 call from a daughter, needing the ambulance for her elderly father. He was drinking water, just like every other time. Nothing different. Except some went down his windpipe. And he couldn’t bring it back up. I found out through talking with the panicked daughter that the man also had various other medical conditions. CHF, HBP, etc. The fear, the sheer terror in her voice, asking him in Spanish to breathe was quite scary.

“Respira dad, please. Tienes que tozer para que sale la agua.” 

“Ma’am, you need to try and pat his back, to get him to cough the water up.” 

“I can’t, he’s on his recliner and he’s too heavy for me to pick up.”

First Aid training instinct kicked in.

“Ma’am, you need to try and get behind the chair and wrap your arms around him. Make a fist under his sternum and push. He really needs to get that water out.” 

“Ok, let me try. Please dad, breathe.. I’m going to try and help you dad, just cough.” 

The phone goes partially silent, and all I can hear is faint dialogue from her to her father. Finally, a loud cough.

“Are you better dad? Can you breathe? I think he’s breathing again. Oh thank God. Thank you so much sir.”

Just then, I hear the sirens on the earpiece. They are faint, but I can hear them. 

“I hear them coming!” 

“Ok, great ma’am. Please don’t hang up. Is he able to talk or breathe?” 

“Dad, ABC, 123.” 

“ABC, 123,” a hoarse, but steady voice says.

"Oh my God, thank you, he's breathing again sir! Gracias a Dios!"

No major obstruction. Good. 

“They’re outside sir. Thank you so much, I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Ma’am, you’re very welcome. Meet the EMT’s at the door and they will take the call from here now.”

“Ok, thank you so much!” 

*click*

And she was gone. A bit of accomplishment. But I hadn’t been so happy to hear sirens. Ever.