My Coworkers Are My Heroes
Written by Tammy Sherwood
As a Dispatch Supervisor in a small rural agency, my greatest nightmare is that I, or one of my dispatch team members, would receive a 911 call from a family member or close friend. While we entertain this notion, we ask ourselves: “ Can I keep my emotions in check?” “Will I be able to remember all my responsibilities during such an event?” “ How would I perform? Could I perform?” A few months ago, my nightmare came true. I did not have to take the call. On that day, I had to make the call to my own PSAP.
On March 4th, 2025, shortly after 9am, my husband, Lyle, and I were enjoying a rare day off together. On this Tuesday morning, we were planning what we would do on our day together, when Lyle suddenly collapsed to the floor in our bedroom and began making snoring respirations. In a state of shock and panic, I quickly checked his breathing and pulse. He was in full cardiac arrest. I began chest compressions immediately, stopping only long enough to grab my cell phone and make the 911 call to the very PSAP I supervise.
The call-taker who answered my 911 call is a 25-year veteran of our center. She took my address, which I gave incorrectly in my panic. I was unable to think clearly. Thankfully, she recognized my voice and my phone number. I pleaded with her to send me med units. ” It’s Lyle, he isn’t breathing. I’m starting CPR”. She asked her protocol questions, but before I could complete the interrogation, I tossed the phone aside, forgetting to put it on speaker, and resumed CPR. (I really was the worst reporting party). The dispatcher who dropped tones and dispatched my call is a 6-year veteran. I had been her Certified Training Officer when she was hired. She toned the call out with the corrected address and promptly had fire, EMS, and LEO en route. Both were professional, efficient, and performed exactly as trained.
Despite the psychological clock phenomenon that I have warned my trainees of over the years, the first firefighter came through my front door in what felt like mere seconds and took over chest compressions. My neighbor (and husband’s high school classmate) and her daughter were the next firefighters through the door, arriving with an AED in minutes. With the rapid response of the AED and compressions, the first responders and EMS achieved a return of spontaneous circulation.. Lyle awoke, and while he was very agitated and confused, he recognized me and followed my instructions to allow responders to put a drag/lift bag beneath him. My deputy coworkers arrived en masse to lift my 6’5’’, 280 lb, verbally combative husband into the ambulance. I suspected that they were also there to comfort and encourage me.
It is at this point that I should mention that my husband, Lyle, was also my coworker... our coworker... He had worked for the same Sheriff’s Office as a detention officer for 20 years. The dispatchers were familiar with Lyle, as he worked the night shift and would often relieve single-covered dispatchers for bathroom breaks and smoke breaks. He was the gentle giant who was large and intimidating, but also made sure the sidewalk to your vehicle was shoveled and treated. He scraped windshields and offered to warm up cars. He wasn’t very cuddly, but he was always respected for being honest, professional, and when provoked, quite funny.
On March 10th, 2025, I sat next to Lyle in the Cardiac ICU of KU Heart Hospital in Kansas City. Over the past 6 days, I had met with multiple cardiologists, a neurologist, palliative care professionals, and finally a Chaplain. Lyle had received amazing care at 2 different hospitals. He had suffered a heart attack with 100% blockage of the LAD (Left Anterior Descending artery), commonly known as a “Widowmaker Heart Attack”. Despite the rapid response and excellent care, Lyle succumbed to the extensive damage done by the lack of circulation to his organs and extremities. Lyle died shortly after 7pm that Monday night as I stood next to him.
This situation was so unique because I was both the caller and the supervisor. In the beginning, I was so uncomfortable with how my personal life had become so public and that I had been put in such a position to be vulnerable, dependent, and pitiful. It was after I shared this with a long-time close friend (who is not in the emergency services field) that she simply said, “What? You are embarrassed that you were human and you needed help? Do you know how brave you were to pick up that phone and ask someone to help you?”. It was at that point that I decided to have grace with myself and acknowledge that I was much stronger than I had ever imagined. While I am transformed by this event, I am still alive and have the unique position to work with my own heroes.
I made a list of the things I learned about my job and my coworkers as a result of this call.
1) We train extensively because we need to. We will continue to drill our protocols until they are second nature. This will ensure that even if we are shocked or stunned because the caller is known to us, we will rely on the “muscle memory” of our protocols to function correctly. Additionally, I used to train by saying to my trainees, “What if it were your family member calling someone for help, how would you want them to be treated?” Now, I ask my trainers, would you be comfortable in your trainee taking a call from you, that could mean life or death to your child, your spouse, or your parent? Make sure that trainees are trained to a standard that we want for ourselves and our loved ones!
2) Acknowledge the awkwardness. When you lose someone, people often don't know what to say or how to approach you. Often, they avoid you. I decided to create a safe environment with my immediate coworkers. I let people know that I am still me. I want to hear laughter and chatter. I want to hear and feel as normal as I can. I let them know that it is 100% okay to speak Lyle’s name or to recall a memory or story with me. I cherish those stories. There are moments, even still, when I feel very overcome, and I prefer to keep my moments private. I told my coworkers that I am safe, but from time to time, I may need to step out for a “fresh air break,” aka go to my car to shed a few tears or decompress. I informed my coworkers that I did not want company at those times and that I would return as soon as possible. Being honest and upfront about what made me comfortable helped others understand how to assist me. I was taking care of myself.
3) Doing things for others is very healing. I attempted to create opportunities for our dispatch and me to do outreach for our community. We volunteered at a back-to-school event and developed a program for special needs community members to foster more positive interactions with those facing behavioral, emotional, communication challenges, and intellectual needs. We participated in the Little Hearts Project during September for suicide awareness. We gave tours of our new law enforcement center. Doing small things with the idea of healing others was actually healing for us.
4) Your heroes come in all different shapes and packages. Mine all look like my coworkers, and I am so proud of all they have done for me and my family. I try to do small things for my dispatch team members and tell them how important they are to our community. Their jobs are often thankless and without closure. I try to give all the respect and kindness to our team as it is something that I CAN do on a daily basis to effect a great change. I am truly blessed to work with my heroes.
Thank you, Tammy for sharing your experience with us. If you are interested in writing a blog, please email amanda@911derwomen.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.