My Own Personal 911 Operator

As you know, my son Kevin is engaged to a wonderful girl named Amanda. I love her like she is my own. The two of them are very mature, and disciplined. Within the last year, their built-from-the-ground-up house was finished. For two young people (they are both 27 years old), they have accomplished so very much already. Amanda is a 911 Dispatcher. This is such an important job, she loves it and is very good at it. I have heard a lot of what she goes through, and it is not easy.
Knowing how caring the operators on the other end of the phones are was a great help when we recently had a scare. We were preparing for a party, and my cousin, my friend Ellie and I were busy scurrying around getting things done. Apparently, Laura’s 4 year old grandson Trevor wanted one of us to do something, and I guess we were too busy? All of a sudden I hear a blood-curdling scream as Laura walked into Trevor’s room. I was getting dressed in my room next door and in the split second I ran there to check, I was thinking – ok, she’s over exaggerating. She wasn’t. There was blood all over the floor, all over his arm and hands. Somehow, he took a knife from the kitchen and tried to cut one of his toys out of the plastic casing it came in. Screaming, she tells me to call 911. Laura was freaking out, and Ellie stepped in to calm Trevor. I called 911 and got the Operator. They were wonderful. Saying to me quickly in every situation there is a calm one and a not-so-calm one (she could hear screams from the two of them), I stepped outside to describe exactly what happened. He sliced the web part of his hand – between the thumb and first finger. It was very deep. The operator told me what they should be doing, and that’s exactly what was being done. This operator then calmly updated me as to where the paramedics were, and how soon they would be there. In between updates, we spoke about my future daughter-in-law Amanda. There was a sort of kinship in the call. Eventually, the paramedics arrived (it couldn’t have taken more than maybe two minutes). As I walked in with them, they rightly assumed I was the calm one. Taking one look at Trevor, they knew he would need stitches. The paramedics took Laura and him to the hospital, and I cleaned up the “crime scene” (because that’s what it looked like) with one of our other party guests.
After only about ninety minutes, they arrived home. None worse for the wear, we can only hope Trevor learned his lesson.
So here is my Amanda, and the injured Trevor…

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