A Life of Writing for You
A look into the life of a 911 Emergency Dispatcher.
I have worked here for over 20 years; long enough to understand that while each shift must handle the same types of calls, each has slightly different needs. The list can look like this- families exchanging their children for visitation, drunk drivers venture out, domestic disputes, traffic accidents, bar fights, missing people (children and adult), missing pets and sometimes people simply looking at each other in an upsetting manner. There is the occasional lonely person that just does not know who else to call. There are happy and silly calls that make me smile, things like, babies being born, or a young child calling from an inactive cell phone only to get mad at “the phone” for talking, then spending countless minutes trying to convince her to let “the phone” talk to mommy or daddy. It is here that your words make their mark upon my pages.
The day shift at a 911 center has the best hours for having a family, sleeping and keeping a relatively normal schedule. It is a tough shift to work. The most senior people can be found working these hours, strong personalities with differences of opinion on many topics. The afternoon shift is the busiest; some of the most serious calls happen during this time. The midnight shift can be as busy as the afternoon shift or go an hour or two with nothing. We are always ready for the mystery of what comes with your call for help. We are an extended family of many people, never less than four of us here at one time. We are complete with disagreements, arguments, supportive conversations and an un-wavering desire to protect you.
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Writing here consists of informational blurbs with important facts listed. Serious life altering events arranged into short sentences absent of fill words, sometimes startling and graphic in content. Your stories are always different, but similar in so many ways. What may have started out to be an uneventful day, can quickly spin out of control. A missing or runaway child or the sexual abuse, of you or your child, an accident you were the victim of, or to your horror, the cause of. It could be as simple as a missing family pet or the embarrassment of a traffic ticket. Each one has its impact, vocabulary, and its challenge to articulate accurately.
My written words are really yours. Each call for help brings a new topic, a new challenge to overcome. Your words resonate, your voices can be heard asking for the help you need.
“He raped me”
“My child is missing”
“I thought he loved me”
“I’ve been stabbed”
“I took a bottle of pills”
“He hurt me”
“I WANT TO DIE”
“My mom is not breathing”
“I’m afraid”
“Over 100mph”
“Please hurry”
“I was just robbed”
“My baby is not breathing”
“SOMEONE IS IN MY HOUSE”
“He has a gun”
“My boat is sinking”
“Please help me”
“I am going to shoot myself”
“My house is on fire”
“I don’t know where I am”
“They are driving in the wrong lane”
“He video-taped my daughter”
“I can’t live without her”
“Touched me”
“There has been an accident”
“There is a person laying in the road”
“GET SOMEONE HERE NOW”
“HELP HIM”
When you hear my voice, know that I care. My questions help me to see what you see, to accurately depict what is going on at that moment, in your world.
* * *
Its winter now, snow falls and covers our tracks as we drive from place to place. It hides where we have been and conceals events from being discovered. On this particular evening you may have been making a short trip to the grocery store or on your way to pick up your child from a school event. The phone rings, I answer “911 what’s the address of your emergency?” What started out as a simple task has been complicated by snow covered roads, a deer crossing in front of you or taking a corner just a little too fast on the black ice hidden below your tires. The call comes from you, you have had an accident. My questions begin. “Where are you? What is your name? What is the number you are calling from?” These questions seem silly to you as I ask them; they are the three most important things to know first in an emergency. You know the name of the highway, but you can’t recall where on that road. So many thoughts racing through your mind, you might remember passing a McDonalds or a specific gas station. You called from your cell phone. I “re-bid” your call (electronically request the GPS coordinates
[My written words are really yours.]
of your cell phone), simple buttons to give me a bit of valuable information. Phase 2, this is good; I have your GPS coordinates. I use them to tell me where you are. I never stop typing. “Can you see anything?” No GPS? Together we will figure it out. “What can you remember?” Things like road names, businesses, houses, barns, cows, smoke stacks and trees are all details we can use to help find a person. We will send officers to look for you in more than one place. We will find you, using your list of places, things, colors, smells, which added together, tell the story of where you are. It will mean something to one of us, I may not know, but one of us will. Police officers, firemen and ambulance personnel recognize these details without seeing them. I am typing your story, everything that you can recall. “Are you injured or trapped? Were you alone in the car or is there another person to care for? Are they still in the vehicle, or have they been thrown? If they are missing, what were they wearing? What is their name? Was it a child, male or female?” We find you, your details helped. I simply help you tell them where you are, and get them to you as quickly as possible.
* * *
A suicidal person calls. How fast can I type? I need to express to officers and dispatchers in words the seriousness of this call.
Address? You don’t always want to tell, at least not right away.
Name? I take what I can get, first name, nick name, fake name. (Something to call you by)
Phone? I can usually get you to tell me, even if you don’t want to. (I want to call you back if we get disconnected)
Even as I am asking these questions I am typing other things. Details you have given to me and things I can hear around you, they might look something like this;
Suicidal
Has a loaded shotgun/handgun
At a park, at home, in the car
Upset because of a lost job, wife left, husband left, money (Just a few possibilities)
Sometimes you want a reason not to do it, a person to talk to that might understand. Other times you want an officer to witness it or to be found by police and not a family member. Sometimes I hear the shot, and other times I know you did it as soon as you hung up. Still typing, I type it all, details about your life that might help talk you into giving life another chance. I think if I can just type the right words the answer will be there. I want to make a difference. If you do die, you are not forgotten. Your despair was heard and felt by many. I felt it as you spoke, the officers who raced to try to save you, the ambulance personnel, and your family all feel it too. We all carry it with us, our sadness, evident and everlasting. I didn’t even know you, but you mattered to me.
* * *
There is screaming when a family member or friend finds someone after a suicide. They don’t know what to say. There is a sense of urgency even if it is too late. I need the same information first, (address, name and phone number) I fill in the boxes. I am listening to your story, adding comments to the job. People who experience things as horrible as this sometimes don’t realize the person on the other end of the phone is not actually there with them. They leave out the details like, I found my brother, sister, uncle or friend hanging. They may only say he/she is not breathing. My questions continue, there are prompts designed to lead to the correct solution for the problem at hand. “Can you tell why they cannot breathe? Do they need CPR, do they have asthma, were they crushed or are they hanging?” I type your words into a short, easy to understand, bulleted story, thoughts without embellishments, a graphic horrible list, absent of emotion, keeping it to the facts as they are given. Knowing that they may not be facts at all, that things may not be what they seem, that your emotions may have prevented you from seeing it all clearly.
* * *
When someone sexually abuses you or your child, you call for help. Are you safe now? I still ask the same questions at first, where it happened, your name, your phone number. Do you need an ambulance? Tell me exactly what happened. I type your story; details of your experience. I generalize some of what you say; it is for your protection, your dignity. Your privacy matters. Officers will document the details, I only need to portray enough of your story to make you safe and get help to you. I gather information about the person that hurt you. Their name, description, what they might be driving if they have a vehicle and when it happened. Was it someone you know, a neighbor, a family member, someone you thought was a friend or a complete stranger? I type the things that are necessary; details that will make the average person feel ill. How you were abused. If the abuse was documented; videotaped or photographed. Each of your answers prompts a new question or set of instructions. Things like; do not approach the suspect or if they come to your home do not answer your door. Tell me and I will make sure the officers come quicker.
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There are countless stories I have told for you. Writing details about events in your life that have changed you forever. There is no specific time at which I realized the impact you have on me, and how I live my life, but you do. I listen while you are being beaten by someone who you thought loved you. I send help when your newborn baby stops breathing. I help you perform CPR on your loved ones. I wonder how many times I have been the last person to speak to you before you die, or how many more times I will have to do it again. Images flash through my mind, telling your story, full color scenes depicting what my mind interprets from the words on the screen in front of me. I don’t know if what I imagine is better or worse than what you have experienced. I only hope the words I have chosen tell it accurately and help to protect you from the bad things that are happening in your life at that moment. You have taught me that there is both good and evil and that there is nothing to be taken for granted. You give me the strength to make better decisions in my life and to be protective of people in ways I never thought I was capable. I return day after day, never knowing what stories I will be telling. What words will define your experiences, express your needs and send you the response that will help you. I am just one of many, who have chosen a life of writing for you.
(originally written in 2013 by Tracy La Valley, years of service adjusted to reflect accuracy of current day 12/2021.)