Recharging the batteries

Four emergency calls, no conveys.

A 12 hour shift can really drag on when there's not much to do. The general public (drunk and sober) have been leaving us alone for a while - making up for the busy Saturday night, no doubt. It was nice to have a break from the frantic pace of the weekend but its also problematic because you just never know when you will get a call, so you can't settle down with a good book (well I can't anyway) or indulge in other time-wasting pastimes. Years ago, and not that long ago in fact, stations had pool or snooker tables in the mess room. A quiet spell was predictable and a game or two could be played whilst on duty. The tables have gone from most stations - retired as props and storage tables. Ornaments of a lost calm.

So I sat and watched telly and chatted with colleagues.

I did do some work though...

I went to attend a 3-year-old who was fitting. When I arrived the crew were following behind. We all piled out and up to the flat where the child was lying on a sofa, surrounded by concerned children and adults. He had been febrile, that's all. It's common in young children and can lead to a convulsion if the body temperature goes above 101.3f. He was recovering and doing what recovering children do - crying. Its a good sign.

We reassured the mother and bundled everyone who was interested into the ambulance. I said my farewells and greened up. Then I was sent to a 'man vomiting in the street'. I wondered why.

I arrived on scene and was waved over by a man who had been standing at the bus stop where the vomiting man lay across a bench. He had deposited two large and very chunky mounds of sick onto the pavement, as you do, and was now resting quietly on the bench without a care in the world. I approached and asked him his name. I asked him what he was doing there and he gave me his home address. This is how it went and continued even when the crew, who I had tried to cancel, arrived.

"Are you drunk?"

"Yes", then he gives his home address.

"Why don't you get a bus or taxi home?"

" ", he gives his home address.

"You can't lie there all night, we will have to get the police to move you on".

"Take me to.." home address again.

"We are NOT a taxi service!"

"I know but can you take me to..." home address.

I didn't even understand where his home address was. I mistook it for somewhere in North London but then I discovered he was French and, although he spoke some English, he preferred French. Funny that.

My French is rusty but the crew's was non-existent, so I pitched in with a few well chosen and probably badly constructed phrases and I got his proper address. See, you can use what you learned in school. He lived south of the river in fact.

The crew kept him occupied and periodically told him off for spitting at their feet, unintentionally I'm sure but still very bad manners, whilst I busied myself looking for a taxi. I hoped I could get one to take him home (he had the money for his fare). I was beaten, not literally, by the police who turned up, at our earlier request, to deal with him. They remonstrated with him and took a mere 3 minutes to shoo him away to Oxford Circus where he would, hopefully, fall into a cab and get home. Vive la France!

Then I wandered down to the square and sat people-watching as usual. No sweets or Manilow remarks tonight; different crowd. However, I did notice a teenager walking from point to point with a little dog on a leash and a cup in his hand (the boy, not the dog - dogs don't have hands). He was begging from anyone and everyone (except me) but nobody noticed him. Now I know there is only so much compassion a person can give when busily getting home, or to the cinema or theatre but to walk through a young man who is obviously down on his luck, well that's no good for humanity, is it? Give him 10p or something. Look at him and say no but don't just walk on and ignore his presence. The poor sod made no headway at all as I watched him. It occurred to me that his dog will be walking to heel off the leash in a few years if things don't improve.

I went back to the station and had my break. I ate my little packed lunch and had some grapes. I love grapes. Then I was summoned to a dodgy estate for a man who had difficulty breathing. I went to the wrong gate of the relevant block of flats and the ambulance arrived before I could get in to see the patient. It didn't matter anyway because he was round the other side of the building, where the entrance was, waiting for us in the street. He didn't look particularly out of breath when he jumped in the back of the ambulance. I did say summoned, didn't I?

The only potentially serious call I got all night was for a diabetic man who was unconscious but even that turned out to be a turkey. I went into the house and he was sitting on the sofa with his eyes shut. He opened them when I spoke and he was quite conscious, I can tell you. Not only that but he didn't have any complaints about his diabetes, all he had was a niggling neck pain. Hmm.

The crew arrived and took him away. Don't worry, I checked his BM before I became presumptious. It was a little high but nothing to be concerned about, certainly not high enough to merit an emergency response. Still, we were having a quiet night so nobody complained.

After that I sat around watching telly and rested my eyes. I felt guilty about not doing anything but that passed and I decided I needed the battery re-charge, as did my colleagues.

I have been trying to get some news about the hit and run girl but haven't had any luck. She was taken to a hospital that I don't go to often and so I can't go over there to find out personally. I have asked my contacts to find out for me. This is an issue for us. We don't get told how our patients are doing, we get no updates or outcomes, unless the patient wants to thank us or there is an enquiry. Poor show I think.

Oh and I will remember those Kiev photos soon!

Be safe.