I wrote this post on Wednesday and haven't had the heart or guts to post it until today.
This morning, I got to work and made my instant oatmeal. It was sort of weird today, because instead of the single serve cups I normally have, I had to make it myself, measuring out the oatmeal and water, and heating it up for as long as it took to take the crunch out. 45 seconds.. 20 seconds.. 20 more seconds.. Shit, it's overflowing. I turned off the microwave, started cleaning my mess, and thought to myself, "Now this is something.."
This has probably been a long time coming, and I think I was in denial that it would ever happen. It crossed my mind, but I never imagined it would come down to this. Sure, there's always the other option, just to take things as they come. But sometimes, by thinking we are leaving things up to fate, we are missing the opportunity that fate has already given us. It's normally staring right at us looking us in the face. And many times, we completely miss it. We miss the opportunity to better ourselves, the opportunity to do something new, or finish something we had already started. My friends, I have found myself at this point in my career. Just a year into dispatching, I'm at a fork in the road. And what do you do if you come to a fork in the road? Well, you pick it up and take it home of course! Joking.. For me, it's been a whole lot of thinking, a lot of restless nights trying to decide what it is I'm really going to do.
Last night was especially strange. I tossed and turned, waking up almost every hour. I'd look at the clock, try and get comfortable, fall asleep, over and over.. I remember dreaming something quite strange, but I can't fully recall what it was. All I know is that there was a gentleman, Justin, who had something to do with a suicide, either his own or that of someone else. Whoever Justin is, I hope he finds his peace.
This post has been sort of like today was, up until about an hour ago; Long, awkward, beating around the bush. Today, I had to resign from my position as a dispatcher at the Sheriff's Office. My last day will be Thursday, September 5th. I know many of you may be looking at your computer screens, some with mouths agape, others just confused about what happened. I want to cry, but I'll go into some details and save whatever manhood I have left.
Back when I started on August 3rd, 2012, I had anticipated being on the night for, well, ever. I took some online classes, maintained them, and was enjoying life. Second semester of school came around, and I ran into an issue: I needed to take a science class, with a lab. The solution was scheduling the earliest science class I could get, 9am, driving there after work, then coming home to sleep. Sometimes, I'd get lucky and catch 8 hours of sleep. Other times, not so much. However, it worked out pretty well! That is, until March came around. In March, we ended up losing 2 people, back to back. This meant I had to be bumped up to the day shift, pronto. This sort of ruined my original plan of sticking it out through the end of the semester, and I ended up flunking my science class.
Enter Financial Aid. For anybody who has attended college before, you may know that Financial Aid is not the easiest department to deal with. I got a letter that basically told me if I had another bad semester, they were going to take away my free money for school. Really?! I decided I was going to attempt a full semester's course load online. Enter Life. Work was busy, I had run into some medical problems, and school seemed to get put on the back burner. The semester ended dismally, I didn't pass any of the classes I was in. Was it my commitment to the coursework? Maybe my time availability? Probably a mixture of both, along with other things. Nonetheless, I was sinking fast.
I received a notification that I was placed on Financial Aid Suspension this past week, and it stated that unless they saw improvement after I had paid for classes out of my own pocket, I was not able to get any sort of Financial Aid. Talk about the light at the end of the tunnel being blown out. However, there was still one glimmer of hope: the Appeal Process. To this point, I've submitted all my paperwork for the appeal process and am waiting to see what the committee decides after their meeting tomorrow morning. I'm hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst, which would be having to spend my last paycheck on a tuition payment. We'll see..
During these last two weeks at the sheriff's office and during the back to school transition, I'd appreciate lots of prayers and support. It wasn't an easy decision to make, and I'd be lying if I said I was happy to quit my job. But for now, it just isn't in the stars. Do I hope I can come back someday to the profession? Absolutely. In fact, I'm going to be working back at Campus Police, dispatching and being the campus operator. It's not near as exciting as working at a PSAP dispatching EMS, Fire, Police and Deputies, but it's something to keep me in the field.
Over these next few weeks, I'm going to try and post much more often. I want to talk about how I'm feeling, what's going on with the college stuff, and all that jazz. It's going to be an interesting two weeks, that's for sure. Nonetheless, I'm not going anywhere, just changing scenes for a bit. Thanks to everybody so far who has encouraged me to do what's best for me. In the end, one should not hate a man for wanting to better himself. That's what I'm trying to do, and I appreciate the support.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Anniversary
Today, I woke up at 6:00am, got dressed, got my things together, and drove to work. I walked into the comm center, took my pass down report, logged in to CAD, took my seat, and smiled. Today, August 3rd, 2013, I have officially been on the job for 1 full year. It got here so quick, and I couldn't be more excited! Unless these allergies disappeared then it'd be a real party...
It's exciting!! Never did I think I would end up where I have, but I find myself growing more and more appreciative of the opportunity to do what I've always wanted to do; I'm in a position where I can make a difference in my community, helping friends, neighbors, and complete strangers. This position is one where, few, if any, get to see from the outside. But I've managed to make the best of it. I've managed to learn a lot, make a lot of mistakes, and learn a lot of lessons the hard way. I've learned about deductive reasoning, filtering through the bullshit, and keeping my emotions out of making important decisions. This job has taught me more in one year than college did in three years. It's taught me skills that can all be taught in separate fields, but are rarely found altogether. I've learned to handle situations few are ever in. If there was one word I could use to describe this, it'd be AWESOME.
Are there things I still need to learn? Of course, there's always something new to learn. No two situations are ever the same, nor do they ever have the same outcome. Sure, there are the common, sometimes BS, calls we receive. A lost dog, car lockout, even the occasional MVA in the grocery store parking lot. Most of these calls seem pretty routine. Take info, send a unit, wait for them to clear, it's a simple process, really. Yet, I've learned that there are also difficult moments in this job. Moments where, I wish I wasn't on this end of the headset. I don't know how many times I asked myself, "Why did I have to take this call? I don't get it." It's difficult to understand sometimes, but that's just how it goes.
I will say, I'm quite glad I'm not on the other day shift, as that seems to be the shit-hits-the-fan-hardest shift. However, I'm also a strong believer in fate and divine intervention. I do believe that I get calls that should only happen on my shift. Like the woman from church who was my grandmother's best friend in high school. She heard my voice and immediately recognized it, calling me by my first name, and telling me what she needed. A few weeks later, I ran into her, and she told me something I will never forget: "I'm glad you were the one working, because when I heard your voice, it helped me calm down and I knew that everything was going to be alright." Never could I have asked for better validation than that; I believe that for now, I am in the right place.
I've had a lot of "Oh shit," moments as well. Moments where I have to wonder if there's anything else that could go wrong. I can tell you about things I love in this job, and I can probably tell you about even more things I hate about this job. I won't, because we'd be here all day. But there is definitely a fine line between "THIS IS AWESOME!!" and "I hate my life..." For instance, you get a wanted person. Hooray!! Then, the wanted person decides they are going to do the smartest thing ever and try to outrun the cops. NOT HOORAY. Your 10-99 has just turned into a 10-33, 10-80 on the countywide repeater system. And suddenly, you find yourself at the front line of the battlefield, with every bit of information all the other officers need. Can you say echo transmissions?!
All in all though, it's been a great ride this first year in emergency communications. Do I have doubts that I can do this much longer, even for the rest of my career? Of course. At some point or another, every dispatcher feels like they don't belong, like they are making a mistake, like it's only a matter of time before somebody dies on their watch. Yet, sticking it out is what separates the those who can and those who cannot. Those who cannot will take their fears and run with them. Those who can will know that anything can happen, and are 100% willing to take on that challenge. That's the kind of dispatcher I want to be. The kind that is ready for anything and everything you may encounter, no matter what. Am I there yet? No. Will I be someday? Probably not. But fret not, this doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing, it only means that I will never become so complacent that I decide I know everything about my job. Few people, if any, really know everything about their job..
On a closing note, I want to say to all of you, thank you. Thanks for being dispatchers, thanks for doing what you do, and thanks for putting up with all my shenanigans (is that a colloquialism?). To all dispatchers, I'm proud to be amongst a group of the best first responders a nation could ask for. Dispatch on, brothers and sisters!!!
It's exciting!! Never did I think I would end up where I have, but I find myself growing more and more appreciative of the opportunity to do what I've always wanted to do; I'm in a position where I can make a difference in my community, helping friends, neighbors, and complete strangers. This position is one where, few, if any, get to see from the outside. But I've managed to make the best of it. I've managed to learn a lot, make a lot of mistakes, and learn a lot of lessons the hard way. I've learned about deductive reasoning, filtering through the bullshit, and keeping my emotions out of making important decisions. This job has taught me more in one year than college did in three years. It's taught me skills that can all be taught in separate fields, but are rarely found altogether. I've learned to handle situations few are ever in. If there was one word I could use to describe this, it'd be AWESOME.
Are there things I still need to learn? Of course, there's always something new to learn. No two situations are ever the same, nor do they ever have the same outcome. Sure, there are the common, sometimes BS, calls we receive. A lost dog, car lockout, even the occasional MVA in the grocery store parking lot. Most of these calls seem pretty routine. Take info, send a unit, wait for them to clear, it's a simple process, really. Yet, I've learned that there are also difficult moments in this job. Moments where, I wish I wasn't on this end of the headset. I don't know how many times I asked myself, "Why did I have to take this call? I don't get it." It's difficult to understand sometimes, but that's just how it goes.
I will say, I'm quite glad I'm not on the other day shift, as that seems to be the shit-hits-the-fan-hardest shift. However, I'm also a strong believer in fate and divine intervention. I do believe that I get calls that should only happen on my shift. Like the woman from church who was my grandmother's best friend in high school. She heard my voice and immediately recognized it, calling me by my first name, and telling me what she needed. A few weeks later, I ran into her, and she told me something I will never forget: "I'm glad you were the one working, because when I heard your voice, it helped me calm down and I knew that everything was going to be alright." Never could I have asked for better validation than that; I believe that for now, I am in the right place.
I've had a lot of "Oh shit," moments as well. Moments where I have to wonder if there's anything else that could go wrong. I can tell you about things I love in this job, and I can probably tell you about even more things I hate about this job. I won't, because we'd be here all day. But there is definitely a fine line between "THIS IS AWESOME!!" and "I hate my life..." For instance, you get a wanted person. Hooray!! Then, the wanted person decides they are going to do the smartest thing ever and try to outrun the cops. NOT HOORAY. Your 10-99 has just turned into a 10-33, 10-80 on the countywide repeater system. And suddenly, you find yourself at the front line of the battlefield, with every bit of information all the other officers need. Can you say echo transmissions?!
All in all though, it's been a great ride this first year in emergency communications. Do I have doubts that I can do this much longer, even for the rest of my career? Of course. At some point or another, every dispatcher feels like they don't belong, like they are making a mistake, like it's only a matter of time before somebody dies on their watch. Yet, sticking it out is what separates the those who can and those who cannot. Those who cannot will take their fears and run with them. Those who can will know that anything can happen, and are 100% willing to take on that challenge. That's the kind of dispatcher I want to be. The kind that is ready for anything and everything you may encounter, no matter what. Am I there yet? No. Will I be someday? Probably not. But fret not, this doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing, it only means that I will never become so complacent that I decide I know everything about my job. Few people, if any, really know everything about their job..
On a closing note, I want to say to all of you, thank you. Thanks for being dispatchers, thanks for doing what you do, and thanks for putting up with all my shenanigans (is that a colloquialism?). To all dispatchers, I'm proud to be amongst a group of the best first responders a nation could ask for. Dispatch on, brothers and sisters!!!
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Mexico and Insanity
So maybe this is giving too much away. Or maybe it's telling you just enough to leave up to imagination. There's a growing gripe I have about my job. It's been a problem since day one, but since then I've just tried to grin and bear it. It's a constant nuisance, but there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'm not talking about any person here, but somewhere many miles away from where I am. I'm talking about somebody in Mexico. Well, somebodies, is probably a more accurate word to describe this great dislike, near hate, I have. Following? Allow me to explain.
I work in one of the counties where the United States and Mexico are separated by nothing more than some knee-deep flowing water, El Rio Grande. Yet, in this comm center, there seems to be an overflow of something few, if any, people know about. I'm talking about an overflow, literal overflow of 911 calls from deactivated cell phones in Mexico bouncing off of US towers and getting routed to our PSAP. It's quite an annoying, actually causes trouble sometimes when we're working real incidents, yet, we have no control over it. No 911 call can be denied, therefore we receive calls from every activated and deactivated cell phone that will pick up signal. It's a nuisance.
Most of the time, the person on the other end is a kid, yelling profanities at me in Spanish. I happen to be bilingual, which helps in a county where the population is that of around 80% Hispanics. Here's a taste of what I get most of the time but, please, pardon my Frenc.. er, Spanish.
*PSAP ringing, 911 area code. No location, just the tower.*
(Insert desired mental profanities here)
"911, your emergency?"
"Bueno?"
"Si, linea de emergencia, que es tu emergencia?"
"Chinga tu madre wey, pinchi mamon."
"Perdon, tienes emergencia?"
"No, no tengo emergencia pinchi wey jodido. Vales verga."
"Esta es la linea de emergencia de los estados unidos. Solamente debes de llamar esta linea si tienes emergencia en los Estados Unidos."
*Line Disconnects*
*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*
(More mental profanities)
This happens anywhere between 5 and 30, sometimes 50+, times a day. Sometimes the line is already abandoned, so there's just the matter of logging the call. But after about 10 times in a row, it starts to grow really old, really fast. Once, one of my coworkers received 58 "Mexico" calls. In a row. Within an hour. She was mentally drained after that. After all, we're still on paper logs so we have to write each one down including time and phone number.
Is there a real point to this blog? Maybe. Maybe it's educate the public about some of the problems and dilemmas we face in the comm center. Maybe it's to let other dispatchers know about this ever growing problem. Or maybe it's just an attempt to gain some sort of validation; validation that I'm doing the right thing by sticking out these issues. Or maybe I'm trying to make a point that the kids with cell phones on the other side of the Rio Grande are just insane. After all, insanity has been defined as performing the same action repeatedly, expecting a different outcome.
I work in one of the counties where the United States and Mexico are separated by nothing more than some knee-deep flowing water, El Rio Grande. Yet, in this comm center, there seems to be an overflow of something few, if any, people know about. I'm talking about an overflow, literal overflow of 911 calls from deactivated cell phones in Mexico bouncing off of US towers and getting routed to our PSAP. It's quite an annoying, actually causes trouble sometimes when we're working real incidents, yet, we have no control over it. No 911 call can be denied, therefore we receive calls from every activated and deactivated cell phone that will pick up signal. It's a nuisance.
Most of the time, the person on the other end is a kid, yelling profanities at me in Spanish. I happen to be bilingual, which helps in a county where the population is that of around 80% Hispanics. Here's a taste of what I get most of the time but, please, pardon my Frenc.. er, Spanish.
*PSAP ringing, 911 area code. No location, just the tower.*
(Insert desired mental profanities here)
"911, your emergency?"
"Bueno?"
"Si, linea de emergencia, que es tu emergencia?"
"Chinga tu madre wey, pinchi mamon."
"Perdon, tienes emergencia?"
"No, no tengo emergencia pinchi wey jodido. Vales verga."
"Esta es la linea de emergencia de los estados unidos. Solamente debes de llamar esta linea si tienes emergencia en los Estados Unidos."
*Line Disconnects*
*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*
(More mental profanities)
This happens anywhere between 5 and 30, sometimes 50+, times a day. Sometimes the line is already abandoned, so there's just the matter of logging the call. But after about 10 times in a row, it starts to grow really old, really fast. Once, one of my coworkers received 58 "Mexico" calls. In a row. Within an hour. She was mentally drained after that. After all, we're still on paper logs so we have to write each one down including time and phone number.
Is there a real point to this blog? Maybe. Maybe it's educate the public about some of the problems and dilemmas we face in the comm center. Maybe it's to let other dispatchers know about this ever growing problem. Or maybe it's just an attempt to gain some sort of validation; validation that I'm doing the right thing by sticking out these issues. Or maybe I'm trying to make a point that the kids with cell phones on the other side of the Rio Grande are just insane. After all, insanity has been defined as performing the same action repeatedly, expecting a different outcome.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Hiatus...
I haven't posted here in a while, since May 18th actually. I know I haven't posted, because I keep reminding myself to post something tomorrow, which never seems to get here. Why do something today that you can put off until tomorrow, right? However, what is today, but yesterday's tomorrow? (One of my favorite lines from Spongebob, and now I'm showing my age...) Anywho...
I've been putting off posting for one main reason: I feel like I'm at the point in my career where I'm starting to feel burnt out. I'm almost a year into the profession and, don't get me wrong, I love it. But I come to work, and while I love the job, I hate everything it has to offer. I hate the people, I hate the stress, the calls, the 911, the radio, everything seems to tick me off in one way or another. "Maybe it's the department," I say to myself multiple times a day. After all, turnaround is pretty bad in Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas, and I could just call myself a victim of the system. But, for some reason, I just can't bring myself to leave..
I'm going to tell you a story. It ends sort of like Romeo and Juliet; Tragically. However, I know this story will be appreciated by those in this field of work. It's pretty long, so I apologize in advance, but I think it's interesting, and I hope you find it to be as well.
It was 2:00 am (what a way to start). I had just switched to day shift a few weeks before, so I was sound asleep. I was woken up by sirens, only to find it to be my ringtone. (I knew sirens would get me out of bed faster than homemade tortillas with butter..)
"Hello?"
"Daniel!"
Ugh, my trainee.. I told her to call me if she needed anything, and she has delightfully taken me up on this offer at some God awful hour of the night.
"Uh, yes?"
"Hey, I need your help with something. It's kind of hard to explain. See, this lady called from Canada, she said her name was Jane. Jane said she got an email from her friend, Monica, who came to our county a few months ago to live in an RV. Jane said Monica has been pretty sick, she dislocated a shoulder after being kicked by a horse, but she didn't go to the hospital. She also has some kind of infection, but she refuses to go to the doctor."
Now at this point, I'm quite perplexed.. This story is starting to sound less like a situation, and more like a bad dream. But it continues.
"Jane said that she got an email from her friend saying that she was felt like her organs were shutting down. What do I do?"
Now at this point, not only has my interest piqued, but I'm wide awake. I also don't feel like helping my trainee coordinate a search and rescue effort from home. Things like this don't happen everyday, nor every week, not even once a year. This is truly a once in a small-town-dispatcher-career type of call.
"I'll be right there."
So I drive to dispatch, only being able to wonder what I might find waiting for me. I arrive, and my coworker gives me all the information she's been able to get until she didn't know where to go with it. She did pretty good. Point of contact, description of the PT, she's got me impressed. So, we get to work. I call the POC in CANADA, of all places.. She tells me everything she told my coworker, and I assure her we will do everything we can to try and help. She gives us the name of the property owner where Monica was taking her RV. Perfect!
We scour the interwebs and phone books and come across one possible match. My coworker calls. It rings, and rings, and rings...
"Nobody answered.." she said.
"What address is listed?"
"It's just a PO Box.."
And we're back to square one. Things are starting to look pretty grim right about now. By this time, it's around 3:00 am. I'm tired, and my coworker is becoming discouraged. But we keep trying. We call her friend back.
"Hi, Jane? This is Daniel from the sheriff's office, I spoke with you earlier."
"Hi Daniel, yes. I've been going through my emails. I have one of her very first emails where she describes how to get to where she is staying at. Here's how it reads:
'It was a long drive down Interstate 56, until I finally made it into Texas. I took the exit and got on US Highway 140, to find myself on a two lane road. I drove this road for 60 miles until I reached my next turn, in the middle of a small town. I made a quick stop for gas, then I cut onto US Highway 187. Another 45 minutes, and I was at the home stretch. Down State Highway 99, I drove towards my location. I actually went too far, ending up at the Ghost Town at the end of the pavement. I turned around and found my location two miles back down the road.'
Does this help you any?"
It was as if the Heavens above had opened up, and we were, literally, given a gift from God.
"Yes ma'am, it helps tremendously. I know almost exactly where she is. We are going to do our best to get her some help.. Yes ma'am... I will call and let you know... You're welcome.. *click*..."
I turn to my coworker and say, "We're going to find her!"
She smiles, with pride and courage, and says, "Lets do it!"
We call the deputy on call, now around 3:15 am, and give him the information. He takes the info, and says he will wait for EMS at the station to escort them. We get a hold of EMS and give them the information. They seem to be kind of confused about it, but we tell them to trust us, we are sure she will be there. They get set and they take off, their red and blues piercing the night skies in Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas. Now we wait..
My coworker and I are anxious, we are hoping, praying, that they find this woman who is obviously in some sort of medical distress. Time goes by, and we start to lose faith. Then, the radio clicks.
"Ambulance 56, Dispatch, we have located the property, show us on scene."
My coworker and I shoot a smile at each other, and she gets on the radio.
'Dispatch, Ambulance 56, copy on scene, 0355."
We are so happy that we were able to guide EMS and get them to the right place. We wait a few minutes, and the radio clicks again.
"Ambulance 56, Dispatch, call the air service, have them out to the municipal airport priority 1, we have a middle-aged female patient in pulmonary distress and septic shock."
"Ambulance 56, good copy, 0412."
Things sound pretty grim, but we are determined to get this woman some help. We call the air service, and they say they will be there shortly. We notify the ambulance that their air unit is enroute, and all seems to have found a happy medium for now. I thank my coworker for all her hard work, and tell her she did an excellent job with the call. I tell her I'm glad she called me, and that we did all we could, that the rest would be left up to fate. I jokingly tell her, "No more weird calls for the last two hours of shift, alright?" I go home, snuggle back into bed, and say a prayer for Monica, hoping she will be alright.
Fast forward to the next evening, I'm out of town having dinner with friends. I get a phone call from dispatch, (the sirens go off and everybody in the restaurant looks at me sort of strangely), and I step outside to take it. It's my coworker from the night before.
"Daniel!"
"What's up?"
"She died.."
"What?? Who died?"
"Monica, the lady from last night.. They got her into the helicopter, but she lost stability after that. They delayed their departure to try and stabilize her, but it was too late... She didn't make it.."
"Well, we did all we could.. right? It happens. I hope you're not too upset about it, I know you were hoping everything would be ok, we both were..."
"No, I'm fine. I know it happens. I mean, we did what we could. At least they found her, and she didn't die all by herself. She had people there that, even though they didn't know her, they cared for her."
"That's exactly right... Well, thanks for calling me. I'm having dinner, so I'll be out for a while. Call if you need anything.. Alright.. Bye.."
And so ended the call. We really did all we could, using our resources and man power, and bringing a new definition to "Emergency Services". I think that this call truly showed everybody involved going above and beyond the call of duty to fulfill their missions in public service. I find this story sad, but rewarding. I know we did all we could, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
After all that, I'm going to sit here in the comm center and wait for trouble to happen. I'll take things a day at a time, a call at a time, and go from there.. Happy Dispatching :-)
I've been putting off posting for one main reason: I feel like I'm at the point in my career where I'm starting to feel burnt out. I'm almost a year into the profession and, don't get me wrong, I love it. But I come to work, and while I love the job, I hate everything it has to offer. I hate the people, I hate the stress, the calls, the 911, the radio, everything seems to tick me off in one way or another. "Maybe it's the department," I say to myself multiple times a day. After all, turnaround is pretty bad in Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas, and I could just call myself a victim of the system. But, for some reason, I just can't bring myself to leave..
I'm going to tell you a story. It ends sort of like Romeo and Juliet; Tragically. However, I know this story will be appreciated by those in this field of work. It's pretty long, so I apologize in advance, but I think it's interesting, and I hope you find it to be as well.
It was 2:00 am (what a way to start). I had just switched to day shift a few weeks before, so I was sound asleep. I was woken up by sirens, only to find it to be my ringtone. (I knew sirens would get me out of bed faster than homemade tortillas with butter..)
"Hello?"
"Daniel!"
Ugh, my trainee.. I told her to call me if she needed anything, and she has delightfully taken me up on this offer at some God awful hour of the night.
"Uh, yes?"
"Hey, I need your help with something. It's kind of hard to explain. See, this lady called from Canada, she said her name was Jane. Jane said she got an email from her friend, Monica, who came to our county a few months ago to live in an RV. Jane said Monica has been pretty sick, she dislocated a shoulder after being kicked by a horse, but she didn't go to the hospital. She also has some kind of infection, but she refuses to go to the doctor."
Now at this point, I'm quite perplexed.. This story is starting to sound less like a situation, and more like a bad dream. But it continues.
"Jane said that she got an email from her friend saying that she was felt like her organs were shutting down. What do I do?"
Now at this point, not only has my interest piqued, but I'm wide awake. I also don't feel like helping my trainee coordinate a search and rescue effort from home. Things like this don't happen everyday, nor every week, not even once a year. This is truly a once in a small-town-dispatcher-career type of call.
"I'll be right there."
So I drive to dispatch, only being able to wonder what I might find waiting for me. I arrive, and my coworker gives me all the information she's been able to get until she didn't know where to go with it. She did pretty good. Point of contact, description of the PT, she's got me impressed. So, we get to work. I call the POC in CANADA, of all places.. She tells me everything she told my coworker, and I assure her we will do everything we can to try and help. She gives us the name of the property owner where Monica was taking her RV. Perfect!
We scour the interwebs and phone books and come across one possible match. My coworker calls. It rings, and rings, and rings...
"Nobody answered.." she said.
"What address is listed?"
"It's just a PO Box.."
And we're back to square one. Things are starting to look pretty grim right about now. By this time, it's around 3:00 am. I'm tired, and my coworker is becoming discouraged. But we keep trying. We call her friend back.
"Hi, Jane? This is Daniel from the sheriff's office, I spoke with you earlier."
"Hi Daniel, yes. I've been going through my emails. I have one of her very first emails where she describes how to get to where she is staying at. Here's how it reads:
'It was a long drive down Interstate 56, until I finally made it into Texas. I took the exit and got on US Highway 140, to find myself on a two lane road. I drove this road for 60 miles until I reached my next turn, in the middle of a small town. I made a quick stop for gas, then I cut onto US Highway 187. Another 45 minutes, and I was at the home stretch. Down State Highway 99, I drove towards my location. I actually went too far, ending up at the Ghost Town at the end of the pavement. I turned around and found my location two miles back down the road.'
Does this help you any?"
It was as if the Heavens above had opened up, and we were, literally, given a gift from God.
"Yes ma'am, it helps tremendously. I know almost exactly where she is. We are going to do our best to get her some help.. Yes ma'am... I will call and let you know... You're welcome.. *click*..."
I turn to my coworker and say, "We're going to find her!"
She smiles, with pride and courage, and says, "Lets do it!"
We call the deputy on call, now around 3:15 am, and give him the information. He takes the info, and says he will wait for EMS at the station to escort them. We get a hold of EMS and give them the information. They seem to be kind of confused about it, but we tell them to trust us, we are sure she will be there. They get set and they take off, their red and blues piercing the night skies in Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas. Now we wait..
My coworker and I are anxious, we are hoping, praying, that they find this woman who is obviously in some sort of medical distress. Time goes by, and we start to lose faith. Then, the radio clicks.
"Ambulance 56, Dispatch, we have located the property, show us on scene."
My coworker and I shoot a smile at each other, and she gets on the radio.
'Dispatch, Ambulance 56, copy on scene, 0355."
We are so happy that we were able to guide EMS and get them to the right place. We wait a few minutes, and the radio clicks again.
"Ambulance 56, Dispatch, call the air service, have them out to the municipal airport priority 1, we have a middle-aged female patient in pulmonary distress and septic shock."
"Ambulance 56, good copy, 0412."
Things sound pretty grim, but we are determined to get this woman some help. We call the air service, and they say they will be there shortly. We notify the ambulance that their air unit is enroute, and all seems to have found a happy medium for now. I thank my coworker for all her hard work, and tell her she did an excellent job with the call. I tell her I'm glad she called me, and that we did all we could, that the rest would be left up to fate. I jokingly tell her, "No more weird calls for the last two hours of shift, alright?" I go home, snuggle back into bed, and say a prayer for Monica, hoping she will be alright.
Fast forward to the next evening, I'm out of town having dinner with friends. I get a phone call from dispatch, (the sirens go off and everybody in the restaurant looks at me sort of strangely), and I step outside to take it. It's my coworker from the night before.
"Daniel!"
"What's up?"
"She died.."
"What?? Who died?"
"Monica, the lady from last night.. They got her into the helicopter, but she lost stability after that. They delayed their departure to try and stabilize her, but it was too late... She didn't make it.."
"Well, we did all we could.. right? It happens. I hope you're not too upset about it, I know you were hoping everything would be ok, we both were..."
"No, I'm fine. I know it happens. I mean, we did what we could. At least they found her, and she didn't die all by herself. She had people there that, even though they didn't know her, they cared for her."
"That's exactly right... Well, thanks for calling me. I'm having dinner, so I'll be out for a while. Call if you need anything.. Alright.. Bye.."
And so ended the call. We really did all we could, using our resources and man power, and bringing a new definition to "Emergency Services". I think that this call truly showed everybody involved going above and beyond the call of duty to fulfill their missions in public service. I find this story sad, but rewarding. I know we did all we could, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
After all that, I'm going to sit here in the comm center and wait for trouble to happen. I'll take things a day at a time, a call at a time, and go from there.. Happy Dispatching :-)
Saturday, May 18, 2013
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!
Monday, April 29, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
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?
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?
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