A night under the weather

My last night shift for a while. I have a few days off now, which is just as well as I've been feeling a bit under the weather.

My first call came in as I prepared to get something to eat, so that had to wait (the food, not the job). It was to a woman who had fallen and hit her head. The call came from a seedy estate block that I go to regularly and I wasn't expecting to save a life here. When I arrived I was greeted by a young boy, the woman's son, who opened the gate for me and showed me to the flat. I went in and entered the kitchen, where the woman was being supported by her husband/boyfriend/partner. She was obviously drunk and the second she saw me she told me I wasn't required. Well, she didn't quite phrase it in such an eloquent way - she used the gutter version especially for me.

I looked at her and she gave me that stare - the weapon of the drunken female; the 'I hate you and all you stand for' look. I gave her one of my 'you don't scare me' looks in return and she returned to her back-up tactic of being abusive instead. I bid her and her family goodnight and left the premises. Not required.

Another drunken fall later on in the night was a little more serious. The man had returned home from the pub and had fallen down the stairs leading to his basement flat. He had landed hard on his nose and when I found him he was in a forward-facing kneeling position and out cold. The ambulance arrived soon after me and we all gathered around the heap. His wife came to the door, looked at him, looked at me and said nothing.

"What happened?", I enquired.

"He fell. He's breathing." She said. Then she walked back into the flat and left me to it.

I think she meant, take him away, I'm not interested.

When he came to a couple of minutes into the survey, we got him to sit up. He had no neck injury but his nose was split right down the middle and through to the bone, which was probably broken. He was a bloody mess and it was congealing around his face like jelly. He smelled foul; alcohol, blood and sweat. We managed, with a great deal of effort (because he wasn't going to help at all) to get him up the narrow stairs and into the ambulance. He was secured and off he went. He'll certainly live to do that another day. His wife, meanwhile, will continue to suffer in silence no doubt.

Drunk Russians. More and more are showing up in the streets. What is it about them? They are invariably BIG and usually aggressive. I had one of them to deal with as the night progressed but I decided to pass the problem along to the crew who arrived on scene. I felt too ill to concentrate on avoiding trouble.

My final call was to a sickle cell crisis. The guy had been suffering agonising pain in his legs and arms for two hours before calling us. I gave him 5mg morphine but it had no effect. I followed that up with another 5mg, put fluids up and followed the ambulance to hospital. The crew decided to blue him in half way there as he was still writhing about in agony! I am pretty sure that 10mg of morphine will reduce pain from 10/10 to 5/10 at least. The attendant had also put him on extonox but nothing was having any effect. This was a strange one.

When we finally got him to his designated hospital (which, incidentally, was a good few miles away) he was still crying out in pain. I chatted to his doctor and was told that he had 'done a runner' after receiving 30mg diamorphine on his last visit. Sickle Cell or quick fix?

Be safe.