We Learn Things the Hard Way, Part 2 by Wendy Lotman
Written by Wendy Lotman, published November 24, 2020
Trigger warning: This blog contains real stories of 911 calls that can be a trigger for those who have lived through trauma. Please proceed with caution.
After 7 years on the front lines, I was still getting hit by the unexpected. I had learned how to talk to suicidal callers and mostly get them to put down the gun and show their hands to the police. I had helped deliver a baby into the world with a super anxious and freaking out father who was setting a great example for the child’s first word to begin with “F.” So many calls, so many tactical situations at both police and fire dispatch. I was trained and seasoned and in my prime, but we learn the hard way that although we are mighty, we are not invulnerable.
On an August afternoon, I got a call from a mother who lived in a somewhat rural area. She found her 15 year old son floating in their above ground pool and could not get him out. She was too far away from her neighbor to get help quickly, and the only other people with her were younger children. She had climbed the stairs on the outside of the pool and pulled him over to the side. Knowing that she could not pull him out alone and there was no real way to do CPR, I explained to her how to try and get his neck in the best position to get air in case he was at all able to breathe. She told two of the smaller kids to go together and try to get the neighbor for help.
A patrol unit heard the call and headed that way because he also knew it would take a while for fire and ems to get there due to the location. I kept talking to her. Asking how she was doing, if she still had a good grip on him, was his color changing, could she feel any breaths, and was his head still above water. She answered me in between sobs and then asked me to pray with her, and I listened. When she finished, I let her know I was still there and that the crews were coming as fast as they could. The deputy arrived first and helped her get him out of the water, and then she hung up. The overall call time was about 8 ½ minutes.
My co-worker sitting next to me asked me if I was ok. I told her I didn’t know. She said “that was amazing. I hope he makes it.” They transported him to the hospital with the deputy in tow. As that was a bit unusual, I sent him a message and asked him if he thought the kid would make it. He said it just shook him, he wanted to see him get to the hospital, but it didn’t look good. We learn the hard way to pack stuff away.
What I didn’t know is that my co-worker had also sent a message to my Supervisor about the call. A few months later, my Supervisor brought the call up in our reviews and asked me if I remembered the call and how I thought I did on the call. I told him that I didn’t get paid enough to listen to a mother pray over her dying son. That was not what he expected me to say. He had looked into it and found out that the boy survived, and he thought I had done a great job. My initial reaction was anger. I had packed that sh!t away tight and now he is making me open it again? Of course, I was happy the kid made it, but the whole call replayed in my head all over again. We learn the hard way that nothing is packed away forever.
I sometimes get teary eyed when I’m mad. Luckily, he took the tears to mean that I was relieved and didn’t sense what else was bubbling beneath. He was so proud that he submitted me for a Life Saver Award, and I got it. So, eight months after taking the call, I got to sit in a festive room with fairly happy people and listen to someone else tell the story of that call. I had to stand up on the stage and listen to them re-tell the facts, including the moment that she started praying. Logically, I recognized that this was a positive event and that I should smile, but trauma isn’t logical, and what I really wanted to do was leave. I was seasoned, remember? Suck it up! I plastered a smile on my face, shook hands, said thank you and went back to my seat. Luckily, I also go an award for delivering that baby the same year and that story was much more entertaining and made me laugh. We learn the hard way that trauma triggers can come from positive things.
Calls involving children can have the hardest toll, and fire calls are scary. Put them together, and the worst can happen. My shift got off at 0300, and I took a call about 0245 from a woman whose house was on fire. She stated that she was outside in the front and could see flames coming from the windows. I got her address and sent the call, and she said “There are still people in the house. My grandchildren are still in the house.” I asked here where in the house and how many people. Two children and two adults, and she thought they were all in the basement but she wasn’t sure. She wanted to go back in the house to get them. I told her she had to stay outside because the crews would need her help. She had already told me that her driveway was weird, and she had a gate and wasn’t sure how the fire trucks would be able to fit or make the turn. I added all of the specifics to the call and repeated to her that they would need her help when they arrived and she couldn’t go back in the house. As the crews arrived, I told her to hang up and go talk to them.
Crews gave updates as they arrived, figured out how to get up to the house, and it was the end of my shift. Part of me wanted to stay and find out what happened. The other part knew that I was going to be working 12 hours the next day and needed sleep. I went home and was actually able to fall asleep. When I woke up, I turned on the news and the first thing I heard leading into a commercial break was “one dead in Gresham house fire.” I was pretty sure my heart stopped for a second and thought did she go back in the house or was it one of the kids? No she went to talk to the firefighters so it wasn’t her. When the news came back on, they said “a Gresham man is dead after an early morning house fire.” I literally yelled at the TV, “you couldn’t have said that the first time and not make me wait 3 ½ minutes!!” My next emotion was pure relief that it wasn’t the grandma or the kids. I was ok with it being the daughter’s boyfriend. We learn the hard way that coping mechanisms can be brutal.
A month or so later, there were accolades and awards for all of the brave fire fighters who battled that blaze and saved all but one. The Fire Captain was telling me all about how awesome that call was and how they all got awards in a special ceremony. I said, “That’s really great. Did anyone think to include the dispatcher or the calltaker in any of the accolades?” I mean, I knew they hadn’t because I also knew who the dispatcher had been. He was dumbstruck and said they hadn’t even thought about it. We learn the hard way what an unsung hero really is.
We also learn the hard way that our triggers change over time. I never minded talking to suicidal callers until my sister died by suicide. I wasn’t heartbroken over elderly couples finding their spouses deceased until my grandparents died within a year of each other. Over time, I was part of the Peer Support Team and had taken many classes. My coping mechanisms gained some bravado over time and my self-care game grew pretty strong. I moved through coaching, training, supervisor and managing, but we learn the hard way that even 16 years later, our eyes still tear up thinking about that mother praying over her son.
No one can really prepare us for what this job can do and what we let it do to us. It is an amazing career with so many blessings, and we carry many things with us forever. Whatever weighs heavy and feels like a hard lesson may be something we need to work through, but it does not have to break us. I have had amazing friends through my career and for that, I am forever grateful. There are tools and people and support out there. We may learn things the hard way, but we don’t have to do it alone.
Thank you, Wendy, for sharing your valuable perspective. If you are interested in writing a blog, please email 911derWomen@gmail.com. Sign up for our newsletter on our homepage to stay up to date with 911der Women programming, exclusive content and blog updates. Click here and scroll to the bottom!