“What is the worst call you’ve ever taken?”

“What is the worst call you’ve ever taken?”

As a dispatcher for the past 7 years, I get this question a lot. However, I rarely answer this question. I usually deflect by saying, well one of my craziest calls was ::insert story of a cat stuck in a door:: and laugh with listener as I recant many others like it.

The truth is not that I don’t remember or can’t recall what the worst call was - it’s that I don’t want share the burden of it.

As dispatchers we hear the worst of the worst. We experience life without a filter of innocence. Before doing this job, I could go home to my house and live my life with a filter of innocence where the bad stuff in movies was just that - something that only happened in movies. I could live my life as if my neighbors were always good people with good intentions. I could believe that there weren’t monsters living on my block.

The burden of being a dispatcher, is that you no longer get to believe that the kidnappings of little innocent children don’t happen. You no longer get to believe that people don’t play out scenes from horror movies, because you’ve heard it. You’ve heard fear, sadness, grief, death, and loss of hope. You’ve felt the weight and pain of the officers you send out to tell an unsuspecting person that the person they love the most is not coming home. You grieve the loss of every life that doesn’t make it. You feel the fear of confrontation of the officers and first responders as they go face to face with the monsters from the movies. Only that’s just it - it isn’t a movie.

The stuff that normal people read about in newspapers - you know first hand. You’re life is touched and manipulated by the evils of the world as you fight for good and are persecuted because of it. (This is how come we have weird, and sometimes demented, sense of humors. It’s a coping mechanism.)

You wake up with a sense of hope in helping others and some days you go home defeated. You walk a little heavier as the days evil weigh on your shoulders.

One of my family members once asked me why I never answer that question. (They caught on to my normal deflection.) My answer was simple - because I love you. You see, I don’t want them to worry about me. I don’t want them to live with some of my nightmares. I don’t want them to look over their shoulder while sitting at a restaurant or going into their homes at night. Sure I want them to be careful, so they lock their doors and they listen when I say move. They aren’t unaware of the things I deal with on a daily basis, but it doesn’t hit repeat in their brains when they go to sleep. And I don’t want it to - ever.

I have shared my stories and will if someone really wants to know. Mostly, what I have found is that most people like that filter of innocence and really I’m okay with letting them keep it. After all sometimes the old adage is true - “Ignorance is bliss.”

Even though there is a lot of evil in the world - there is a lot of good too. I have saved a life a time or two. I’ve jumped with joy when I hear someone start breathing again. I’ve cried tears of joy not just tears of sadness behind my mic. I’ve delivered a baby. Seriously, how many people, not in the medical field, get to say that?

I’ve laughed with you as you brought your kid to the police department to have handcuffs removed after losing the key. I’ve been there when we caught the guy (or gal) who hurt you. I’ve celebrated with you when you found your child who you thought was lost but was just hiding under the kitchen sink. I’ve even celebrated with you when we reunited you with your dog after another good Samaritan took it in until we could find you.

I’ve met some amazing people through my headset and I’ve been a part of some really amazing things. These are the stories I share because they bring hope and joy in a world that is hurting. They lift people up and instill hope in humanity. Sometimes these stores are the candles we use to get us through the darkness.