Unlucky for some

I tried to find a specific reason why Friday the 13th was considered unlucky but my research ended in a corner. Fear of that particular day/date combination goes way back in history, with many superstitious and religious events associated with it and as we are creatures of habit, we tend to follow those fears into the future. Working on Friday the 13th felt no different than any other day to me, I had just gone through the night of the 12th and into this new and supposedly unlucky date with no real problems.

My night started with a call to a train station for a male collapsed, (for some reason we still refer to all the stations as 'BR' - British Rail, even though that monolith has long since disappeared). On scene, the man was lying in the middle of the main concourse, surrounded by station staff and being attended to by his wife. He had been undergoing treatment for a brain tumour and the Radio and Chemo therapies had taken their toll. He had travelled a distance into London for a dinner party with friends and had collapsed when his leg had 'just given way'. Otherwise, he was fully recovered and refused to go to hospital. My policy on refusals is simple: I ask the patient at the beginning of my treatment/assistance and then I ask again later. Finally, I ask just before I get them to sign my PRF. Every patient I manage gets three opportunities to change their minds. This patient chose not to go and I don't blame him. He had a 'funny moment' and was better now. Considering his recent problems and the treatment he had received, his body had every right to throw a wobbly every now and then.

My next call was to a fire station, where several of London's finest were attending a man who had staggered in with chest pain. He was an American tourist who had a history of heart problems. His chest pain was real enough - none of this pretending malarky that goes on - and he was very diaphoretic; a give-away when it comes to a genuine cardiac event. The boys of the LFB had him on oxygen before I arrived and he was still very conscious and alert but the pain had not changed and there was no improvement in his condition. I carried out my obs. and was preparing to start treatment (an aspirin to begin with) when the crew arrived to take over. He was placed on a trolley bed and wheeled into the ambulance for further checks (an ECG) and treatment. No GTN was given because the patient had a problem with it, consequently he didn't carry it either.

FRED dragged me off to NW London for a pregnant female with DIB and a low BP. I arrived on a sprawling estate that I didn't know at all and had to drive slowly around it until I got to the address given. There was a man waving me in (a windmill) towards him, so I figured this was the location. The man was the patient's father - he was a doctor. He felt it necessary to call an ambulance because his daughter's blood pressure was too low but insisted there was no bleeding associated with it. Just as I was grabbing my bags from the car, the ambulance rolled up, so I waited for the crew to join me before heading up to the flat.

Upstairs, the girl was in bed, puffing and panting (but not genuine DIB), fully conscious and looking quite normal (no pallor, no sweating). The crew attended and I looked on. I asked the Doc to do another BP and he read it as low. It wasn't critically low (it is normal for a pregnant woman's BP to drop during the 2nd trimester), it was about 107/85 but I could see why he was concerned. It all came down to his ability to 'hear' a blood pressure accurately because he used a steth and sphyg. I wondered if he was panicking unduly. In the event, the patient walked to the ambulance without any difficulty. There was no abdominal pain and no other symptoms to be concerned about. I certainly wasn't needed.

I discovered that the fuel card for the vehicle was missing. There was no reason why it should be missing but it was. I was getting into my last quarter tank of fuel and it is considered (at the least) bad manners to hand over a vehicle with low fuel. It is a disciplinary offence to hand one over with almost no fuel. I had to ask for one of the other FRU medics to meet me at the station so that I could borrow his card. I called in my request to re-fuel and I made my way to the petrol station. I was within 10 metres of it when I got another call. It was a minute away and was for a '4 year-old female, fitting'. I raced to the scene and went up to the flat, walked through the door and heard a woman's voice. She was wailing and crying in another language and I felt a shudder run through me. I honestly thought I was walking into the place to find a dead child.

The mother was holding the little girl very tightly. Both mother and child were looking at me with fear. The child looked fine to me - scared but fine. I asked the mother if her child had been fitting and she said no. I was a little confused (and annoyed). The father was also in the room.

"Has your child had a fit?", I asked him.

"No but we feared she was about to", he said.

Apparently, she had been ill recently and had suffered a febrile convulsion earlier in the day. She had been taken to hospital by ambulance and had been discharged. The mother was very upset about it all and neither parent completely understood the condition. I explained to her that it was a common occurrence in children and rarely dangerous. I also explained that her child looked scared because of seeing me and the tension of the whole situation. She was terrified at the prospect of more needles and medical examinations. I agreed to take them to hospital myself - I cancelled the ambulance. I firmly believe that an ambulance, with two more bright yellow jackets arriving, increases the stress of a child. Unless it is an emergency, I will always try to resolve the situation myself. I also carry out fewer obs. (she had a high temperature) for the sake of the child.

I noticed that the little girl had ECG 'dots' on her arms and legs, so I peeled them off. This made her scream and wail. I had caused her no pain (and had promised I wouldn't) but still she made a fuss. This was a very fragile and frightened child.

I packed them all into the car and prepared to set off for the 3 minute journey to hospital. Just before we left, the mother started panicking again. Her daughter was closing her eyes and becoming sleepy.

"What's happening? Why is she closing her eyes like that?", she wailed.

"It's after midnight. Your daughter is tired. She wants to go to sleep", I answered.

Some people need to calm down when dealing with their children. No wonder the little girl looked continually frightened and agitated. Even the nurses couldn't make her smile when she arrived at the hospital. She kept flinching when anyone tried to touch her.

I had a long break after that. I filled the car up with fuel, gave the card back to my colleague and stood outside the station in the early hours contemplating the calm. Two cats were squaring up to each other across the road. They were both from the estate that towers over our station and so they were hard nuts, as we say in Glasgow. As they prepared to fight (I don't mind being the referee) a fox appeared from nowhere and ran between them, on his way back home from feasting in the local bins. The cats were startled by this and a little bemused (I reckon). The fight was off because they were just too confused to remember what the problem was and so they slunk off in opposite directions. Nature can be funny.

Later in the morning, around 4am, I was on stand-by in the Square. I chatted to a couple of my police mates and watched as they challenged a couple of young men acting suspiciously. The men ignored the challenge and kept walking away from the Officers. I watched as one of the cops walked behind the men, getting faster and faster until he was jogging, trying to keep up. It was hilarious. Those young men had no respect at all for the poor bloke panting along behind them. Eventually he collared one of them in a doorway. The other got away I think. Lucky for him.

Be safe.