Spilling My Guts

I turned toward the voice – it was a young man who identified himself as a reporter for the Herald Tribune there in Sarasota.  He wanted to know if I had a few minutes to answer some questions.  I almost said no but a part of me felt that 911 was given a bum rap and this could be the way to correct that.

We stepped to the end of the hall where three officers sat taking a break from the trial.  I answered all of the questions – how did the call make me feel? What ran through my head when the phone went dead? It went on for about twenty minutes.

I told him about the stresses of 911 – how a person answers a call that is horrible, helps do what they can, disconnects only to take the next call which potentially could be as ghastly as the last one.  I told him how we make a connection with the caller – even calls that only last a few minutes.  We take on the responsibility for helping that caller the moment we answer the phone.  We aren’t machines – we care about each emergency call and want to save everyone.

The reporter seemed flabbergasted that the staff involved in Denise’s call didn’t get to go home right after taking it – shouldn’t the supervisors sent us home due to the stress? I shook my head – we stayed, it was our job to be there and to keep answering phones.  We couldn’t stop – it isn’t like 911 calls can go to voice mail for us to pick up at our leisure.  My shift didn’t end until 11pm – Denise’s call came in at 6:14pm.

I won’t say I didn’t get up from my cubicle and go out of the room crying – I did and I spent awhile crying before I could compose myself enough to go back in to continue my job.  I have had people die on the phone with me, had people discover a loved one who committed suicide, had people who were choking, children whose parents find them not breathing, etc., etc., etc.,  You do the best you can do, hang up and take the next call – heart break and personal drama have to take a backseat to that.

The reporter took about five pages of notes as I praised the 911 call center under the umbrella of the Sarasota Sheriff’s Office – they are an awesome group, their training is very in depth, and we bond quickly into a family like atmosphere.  My supervisor on shift that night was incredible – she knew exactly what to do and did it.  She had to notify North Port PD to alert them to the kidnapping and notify the entire state because we had no idea where Denise was.  She did a phenomenal job and when it was done, she sat and cried with me.  No one, unless they are put in that situation, can understand the feeling of total helplessness one feels when a call doesn’t have the outcome we try so hard for.

Everyone in that room stood poised, ready to jump in the moment we had a location to rush too.  Officers were on the alert immediately and everyone wanted to help.  It was so difficult to have to stand by and do nothing.

Once the reporter had everything he needed, we shook hands and parted ways.  I have no idea if talking to the press was the right thing to do but it felt good to explain how much we all tried for a successful conclusion to this call. 

I headed to the lawyer’s office to pick up my travel bag and change into shorts before going to the airport.  One the way up the elevator, indeed the whole building, briefly lost power which gave everyone inside the small square box a moment of panic.  Luckily it kicked back on very quickly and we arrived safely at our destination.

I had a few minutes before the cab (um…executive sedan) arrived so I sauntered over to Tropical Smoothie on Main Street for a Tidal Wave.  I hadn’t had one in over a year – it was delicious.  The walk over was very hot but I cooled off a bit with the iced drink and then walked back in the heat.  By the time the executive sedan had arrived, I was sweating up a storm again.

The ride to the airport was spent listening to the driver tell me very graphically how his cousin was murdered a decade or two ago and how that trial went.  He said that murderer is p for parole soon – I hope the guy doesn’t get it because the murder was rather gross.  My driver dropped me off at American Airlines gate more than four hours before my flight.  I was starving so decided to check out a restaurant.