Quick recap of roles in Nee Naw Control for those who don’t work here, in “career ladder” order (note: not necessarily order of importance):
Call Taker (takes 999 and doctor’s calls. Sits downstairs in “the pit”.)
Telephone Dispatcher (takes calls from ambulance crews, deals with queries, takes orders from radio op and allocator)
Radio Operator (speaks to crews on radio, deals with queries, takes orders from allocator, assists allocator when busy)
Allocator (decides which ambulances go where, makes all the important decisions, generally rules the desk)
Management (give out late reports, talk about statistics)
Due to reshufflement of our desk and people going on holiday or leaving for bigger and better things, the time has come for me to move on to allocating. Actually, most people who started when I did (3 years ago) have already started allocating, but I’ve been quite comfortable with the first three roles and we’ve had plenty of allocators on our desk so I’ve not really put myself forward for it. (I still think call taking is the most important and most interesting role in the room, but it’s too stressful to be doing all the time.) So last week, the sector controller turned to me without any warning and said “let’s swap seats!” Of course I panicked. “I can’t sit THERE,” I said, “that’s the scary seat.”
Then I realised it was 8am on Sunday morning and nothing was happening.
“This is simple!” I said, like a kid on a bike taking his hands of the handlebars. “I can do this! Look, blank screen!”
A call flashed up. Aargh! A call! What do I do with that? Oh yes, the same thing that has been done with every call over the last three years. Someone’s having a stroke in Ilford? Oh dear! Ring Ilford ambulance station. Hello Ilford, there’s a call for you. Send it down. Write on the paperwork. There, I did it. Simple. Ooh, another call. Heart attack in Walthamstow? Ring Whipps Cross. Fallen down the stairs in Enfield? Ring Chase Farm. There, I’m an old hand. Pass me a big sign with ALLOCATOR written on it.
By midday, allocating starts to get more difficult. All the vehicles are out and I’m having to make decisions. I don’t like decisions. I’ve got two Cat As and one ambulance. One call has been waiting longer, but the other is closer to the ambulance. I look at the diagnoses. One is an 80 year old with breathing problems. The other is a 30 year old with a sore neck and throat and fever… tonsillitis or meningitis? I send to the old lady and get the radio operator to broadcast the other one. No ambulance offers up. I start to panic at the red call sitting on the screen. It appears to be angrily glaring at me, turning redder by the minute. I alert my sector controller.
“Help, I’m holding a red call! It might be meningitis! I’m going to kill someone!”
“It’s fine. Someone will come up in a minute. You’ve only been holding it 30 seconds. This happens every day, remember?”
“Not on MY screen it doesn’t!”
“Look, there’s J319 come up at the hospital. Send them the call!”
I breath a sigh of relief as the screen goes blank again. J319 get to the call within the required 8 minutes and do not blue in the patient, so it seems it was tonsillitis after all.
By the end of the day, I find I am juggling several calls, holding some for Telephone Advice and Green Trucks and ringing people to advise a delay and shouting over to other desks to borrow their ambulances and putting crews on breaks (sorry!) and giving instructions and all without making a total idiot of myself or having a mental breakdown. The allocator’s phone rings and the man from the HART team asks to speak to the senior on the North East. I am about to pass it to my sector controller, when I remember and say “Yes, that’s me.”
(Of course, I still have to check with the real sector controller before I answer his question!)
So far, so good, I think. It’s not so scary after all. Hopefully I’ll be able to continue my allocator training once my latest dispatch trainee is signed off. Then all the ambulances will be ruled by my iron fist! Any North East crews reading should comment and say how much they like my blog and in return I will get sloppy with my meal breaks and avoid sending them on any bodily fluid related calls. (Management, if reading: that was a joke.)
