I thought we would take this matter to a vote and meet it head on. I view everyone's comments, whether published or not, as a valid point of view. I may be wrong in deciding what you do and do not want to see written here, so this poll offers everyone, fan or not, a chance to have their say. You can only vote once from an IP address but this does not rule out the possibility of abuse. However, I would like to see what you think about what is obviously an issue for some people.
I'll keep it open til the end of April.
Tuesday, 3 April 2007
April fool
Seven emergency calls, 1 left at scene, 1 hoax, 3 conveyed, 2 needed an ambulance.
A suspended 0ctogenarian started the day off. It came in as a 'faint, not breathing at all' strangely enough, I guess that's the kind of confusion that takes over when you are elderly and a loved one has dropped to the floor suddenly. Personally, I'd rather go that way then any other.
I worked on him with a crew and another FRU responder and, I have to say, it was fruitless from the start. His heart had given up and there was no way on Earth it was going to pump again. This was a hard working man who had probably lived a full life. I don't think he would have appreciated any extra time if he had been given it - the quality of such a life is usually very poor. Nevertheless we spent half an hour trying our best and achieving nothing. The bravest person in the room was his sibling who had to bear the sights and sounds of our efforts, only to be told that there was nothing else we could do. We stopped when inevitability became too obvious to continue. We left him on a sofa, wrapped in a blanket with his eyes closed. He looked asleep and that's a nice way to leave it, I think.
The April fool for the day was a hoax call to a suicidal female. I arrived with the police and we quickly unravelled the facts on scene. First of all the staff at the hostel had no idea what we were talking about, secondly it transpired that the call had originated outside of London and finally, it was a men's hostel. No females allowed. Another few hundred quid of your hard earned taxes up in high jinks. Happy days.
A severe asthma attack had me driving at speed in order to administer the necessary care but I arrived to discover an Italian lady who was having a mild panic attack. She had a chest infection and that was giving her a little trouble breathing but it wasn't asthma and it wasn't severe and the call should have been made to her G.P.
I drove the patient's daughter and grand-daughter to the hospital with the ambulance in convoy and we chatted. We discussed, among other things, the reason why there were so many Italians in Scotland. During WWII, the country had been used to incarcerate Italian POW's and those who were considered a threat to National security. When they were released a lot of them set up businesses and became prominent and well respected members of the Scottish community. Our famous ice cream (fried or not) is all down to them. We don't grind any axes with them and I have an affinity for the Italian people as a result of this integration.
She found it interesting anyway.
Later on I went to the aid of an elderly woman who had fallen in a public place and sustained facial injuries. When I arrived on scene the security man had moved her, despite being told not to by Control and a few bystanders. He also took photographs of her injuries, which were relatively minor. She had tripped over a paving slab so I'm guessing, since this was a private walkway (even though a public place), he was getting evidence for any claim that might be made. I presume he was protecting his employer against the possibility of an exaggerated claim but I could be wrong - tell me if you know better.
A female with abdominal pain kept me busy after that. She didn't need (or want) pain relief and she was able to walk to the car but it took me almost 20 minutes to persuade her to move at all. There were certain positions she could not adopt without increasing the pain, luckily standing wasn't one of them.
I saw those mad roller skater types again. There must be a club or something. I saw 20-30 of them wheeling down the road as I past. Some of them were dressed up and one of them was a bunny girl, real or imagined. Obviously, for the sake of driver safety I had to avert my eyes.
Towards the end of the shift I got a call to a young girl with chest pains. She had no cardiac history and no other illnesses but she was a very nervous type, so it all comes down to anxiety, although from what, I do not know. She went to hospital anyway because you can never tell for sure. She was accompanied by her friend and was smiling and cheerful enough when we got to our destination. A quick ECG later and she was sitting out front in reception. Told you.
Just as I was relaxing and coming out of work mode, I was asked to attend another young girl. This time it was an anaphylactic reaction (wrongly termed 'anaphylactic shock'). By the time I arrived, she had injected her own Adrenaline using her Epipen and had fully recovered. I had to persuade her to go to hospital with the crew who arrived soon after me because she was determined not to get checked out as she had a gig to go to later. She had another Epipen and was happy to take the risk and use that if something went awry but this was her 41st attack (not that day obviously) and I spent a good deal of time and energy explaining to her that she wasn't necessarily safe. At her age, anything going wrong may have fallen our our heads (the LAS) and so it was prudent, I think, to get her checked out. She probably found a back way out of the hospital and went to the gig anyway.
I was sitting in the car completing my paperwork and hoping that this would be the end of the shift for me when I saw a man rolling about on his mobility scooter looking at different views of the hospital with interest. I had to smile because I noticed he had his dog, a little Jack Russell, sitting at his feet on the vehicle, following his master's gaze at the whatever took his fancy. Those little scotters must be turbocharged these days. He was doing a fair pelt and his dog's face was pulling back with the force of the wind! Funny things - dogs with wind-blown faces.
Be safe.
A suspended 0ctogenarian started the day off. It came in as a 'faint, not breathing at all' strangely enough, I guess that's the kind of confusion that takes over when you are elderly and a loved one has dropped to the floor suddenly. Personally, I'd rather go that way then any other.
I worked on him with a crew and another FRU responder and, I have to say, it was fruitless from the start. His heart had given up and there was no way on Earth it was going to pump again. This was a hard working man who had probably lived a full life. I don't think he would have appreciated any extra time if he had been given it - the quality of such a life is usually very poor. Nevertheless we spent half an hour trying our best and achieving nothing. The bravest person in the room was his sibling who had to bear the sights and sounds of our efforts, only to be told that there was nothing else we could do. We stopped when inevitability became too obvious to continue. We left him on a sofa, wrapped in a blanket with his eyes closed. He looked asleep and that's a nice way to leave it, I think.
The April fool for the day was a hoax call to a suicidal female. I arrived with the police and we quickly unravelled the facts on scene. First of all the staff at the hostel had no idea what we were talking about, secondly it transpired that the call had originated outside of London and finally, it was a men's hostel. No females allowed. Another few hundred quid of your hard earned taxes up in high jinks. Happy days.
A severe asthma attack had me driving at speed in order to administer the necessary care but I arrived to discover an Italian lady who was having a mild panic attack. She had a chest infection and that was giving her a little trouble breathing but it wasn't asthma and it wasn't severe and the call should have been made to her G.P.
I drove the patient's daughter and grand-daughter to the hospital with the ambulance in convoy and we chatted. We discussed, among other things, the reason why there were so many Italians in Scotland. During WWII, the country had been used to incarcerate Italian POW's and those who were considered a threat to National security. When they were released a lot of them set up businesses and became prominent and well respected members of the Scottish community. Our famous ice cream (fried or not) is all down to them. We don't grind any axes with them and I have an affinity for the Italian people as a result of this integration.
She found it interesting anyway.
Later on I went to the aid of an elderly woman who had fallen in a public place and sustained facial injuries. When I arrived on scene the security man had moved her, despite being told not to by Control and a few bystanders. He also took photographs of her injuries, which were relatively minor. She had tripped over a paving slab so I'm guessing, since this was a private walkway (even though a public place), he was getting evidence for any claim that might be made. I presume he was protecting his employer against the possibility of an exaggerated claim but I could be wrong - tell me if you know better.
A female with abdominal pain kept me busy after that. She didn't need (or want) pain relief and she was able to walk to the car but it took me almost 20 minutes to persuade her to move at all. There were certain positions she could not adopt without increasing the pain, luckily standing wasn't one of them.
I saw those mad roller skater types again. There must be a club or something. I saw 20-30 of them wheeling down the road as I past. Some of them were dressed up and one of them was a bunny girl, real or imagined. Obviously, for the sake of driver safety I had to avert my eyes.
Towards the end of the shift I got a call to a young girl with chest pains. She had no cardiac history and no other illnesses but she was a very nervous type, so it all comes down to anxiety, although from what, I do not know. She went to hospital anyway because you can never tell for sure. She was accompanied by her friend and was smiling and cheerful enough when we got to our destination. A quick ECG later and she was sitting out front in reception. Told you.
Just as I was relaxing and coming out of work mode, I was asked to attend another young girl. This time it was an anaphylactic reaction (wrongly termed 'anaphylactic shock'). By the time I arrived, she had injected her own Adrenaline using her Epipen and had fully recovered. I had to persuade her to go to hospital with the crew who arrived soon after me because she was determined not to get checked out as she had a gig to go to later. She had another Epipen and was happy to take the risk and use that if something went awry but this was her 41st attack (not that day obviously) and I spent a good deal of time and energy explaining to her that she wasn't necessarily safe. At her age, anything going wrong may have fallen our our heads (the LAS) and so it was prudent, I think, to get her checked out. She probably found a back way out of the hospital and went to the gig anyway.
I was sitting in the car completing my paperwork and hoping that this would be the end of the shift for me when I saw a man rolling about on his mobility scooter looking at different views of the hospital with interest. I had to smile because I noticed he had his dog, a little Jack Russell, sitting at his feet on the vehicle, following his master's gaze at the whatever took his fancy. Those little scotters must be turbocharged these days. He was doing a fair pelt and his dog's face was pulling back with the force of the wind! Funny things - dogs with wind-blown faces.
Be safe.
Saturday, 31 March 2007
Spitting drunk
Seven calls today; 3 greens and 4 emergencies. One assisted only, 5 conveyed and only 1 requiring an ambulance (and that was only because she was too drunk for the car).
A quiet morning, so I used the time to research some material for my book. I'll be writing a few this year, one for the blog and a first aid manual (I've published before with some success). I also watched telly 'cos that's important.
Today wasn't about stress, it was about routine and I love routine. The early shifts provide me with an opportunity to keep my basic first aid and patient care stuff up to scratch because that's what it's all about. If you can't put a good sling on as a paramedic it can be rather embarrassing.
My first call of the day was to a lady who had ? sprained her ankle after taking part in a ballet workshop. She wasn't a ballet dancer and was doing it as part of a group with children. She hadn't warmed up before starting and that's probably why her muscles, tendons and ligaments weren't quite prepared or tolerant enough for the exercise. I put this to her (m'lud) and she agreed. I also told her I would write this up and she was quite happy about that! So, hello!
Remember the postings about shoplifters who feign illness in order to get out of their predicament when they are caught? I got another one today. He had been caught allegedly stealing from a shop and I was called because as soon as the police turned up he collapsed and pretended (allegedly) to have a fit. No ambulance was despatched; even EOC sensed a time-waster. I arrived to find him making moaning noises and clutching at bits of his body. The police were bemused and the shop staff confused. He told me that he now had chest pain - usually a gauranteed 'get out of jail' card but not this time. All his obs. were normal and I chatted to him about the situation, explaining that he would have a police officer with him all the way to and through hospital and he would be charged after he had been checked out. This is true.
The police were experienced enough to know the game we were playing and the man recovered completely (no moaning or clutching) when he was told that he could just go home if he didn't waste anybody's time. I know that this sounds crass and possibly risky but I had no doubt whatsoever and neither did the police. He was faking. He declined my offer of hospital treatment on the basis that he could walk away and that's exactly what he did. He walked remarkably fast for a postictal chest pain patient.
I was the only car on and there were few ambulances to spare for trivial calls, so I did my best to convey calls when I knew it was safe and appropriate to do so.
I got a half hour of stand-by in the sun at my usual spot at Trafalgar Square. The opera singer was there again, this time with blue high heels on. I wouldn't have noticed but they were very blue. She enchanted the crowd (and me) with a couple of beautifully delivered arias. I wish all buskers were this sophisticated. Class on the street, that's what she is.
My serenity was shattered by an incoming call. This time I was off to see a lady who had dislocated her shoulder. I arrived to find her sprawled in the doorway of a theatre. She had fallen hard and put her shoulder out. This was her second dislocation, the first had required surgery to repair and now the same shoulder was poking out abnormally. I gave her entonox, which brought relief from the pain and I knew I had to move her. I decided to take her in the car because I was literally 2 minutes away from hospital. Also, calls were being GB'd, so I knew she would be lying there for a while if I didn't. I put a splint on her arm and this had the effect of slightly extending and rotating her arm (without pain I should add). The shoulder popped back in on its own. Instant relief.
We are not allowed to reduce disloctions, lots of things can go wrong if you don't do it properly but I knew that a little manipulation might prove useful and it did. I was going to have to move her anyway, so she had to be in a splint or sling first. A sling was out of the question because she was lying down and her arm was straight. She arrived at hospital happy and pain-free. She will get an x-ray to check all is well but it sounds like her shoulder will be the bane of her life.
I had my break late in the day and then I was sent to a station to sort out a drunk woman who had refused to move from a train she had arrived in from up North. The police were on scene and LAS had been called because she had medical problems - alcoholism was one of them. She had recently been discharged from hospital after treatment for a head injury, sustained when she was drunk and incapable, so that added to the need for her to go and be checked out. I asked for an ambulance for her. She was far too loud and boisterous for me to convey in the car. The crew were very understanding though.
On the way to the ambulance she said something and sprayed saliva as she spoke. I caught a drop of it on my lip. I know it wasn't raining because there were no clouds up there, so I worriedly wiped my mouth and averted my face (proximity is sometimes a bad thing). I spat a lot after that.
I love to treat independent elderly people, they prove that old age doesn't have to be debilitating and that, sometimes, life can be good to you and serve you up enough energy to go on for much longer - Duracell longevity I call it. I went to a supermarket to treat a 90-year-old who had fallen down stairs and twisted her ankle. She had also bumped her head and hurt her wrist in the process. These are standard injuries for this type of fall. She had no significant medical history, which is astonishing. At that age blood pressure, the heart, the kidneys...something must be failing and causing trouble. For a lot of people the process of disease begins in middle age, yet this lady had me write something on my PRF that usually only applies to much younger people 'normally fit and well'. She was a lovely person too and I enjoyed chatting to her as I drove her to hospital.
At the end of my day I started driving towards base and was given one last call. The description sounded familiar and I sensed this was a regular. He had already called three times before and nobody had found him on scene. He was claiming that he had a burst hernia and that his bowel was spilling out.
I arrived on scene and couldn't find him. I asked a couple of traffic wardens and they pointed him out (after I gave a description relayed by EOC) in a call box further down the street. I knew him instantly. He was a real frequent flyer and even the hospital staff don't listen to him anymore. His colostomy bag had spilled over and he was covered in faeces. He smelled abominably and it took me a couple of tries to get in the phone box so that I could talk to him. I have dealt with this guy (and written about him) at least three times before. He neglects himself, that's all. Then he calls for an ambulance and goes to hospital and cleans himself up - the nurses refuse to do it now.
I asked for an ambulance but realised, at this time of day, I was unlikely to get one soon. Other crews would know this guy and I thought about my options. I didn't really have any. I wrapped him in a blanket (which will be burned I hope) and put him in the car. I drove him to hospital with the windows open.
I can still smell him on my uniform.
Be safe.
A quiet morning, so I used the time to research some material for my book. I'll be writing a few this year, one for the blog and a first aid manual (I've published before with some success). I also watched telly 'cos that's important.
Today wasn't about stress, it was about routine and I love routine. The early shifts provide me with an opportunity to keep my basic first aid and patient care stuff up to scratch because that's what it's all about. If you can't put a good sling on as a paramedic it can be rather embarrassing.
My first call of the day was to a lady who had ? sprained her ankle after taking part in a ballet workshop. She wasn't a ballet dancer and was doing it as part of a group with children. She hadn't warmed up before starting and that's probably why her muscles, tendons and ligaments weren't quite prepared or tolerant enough for the exercise. I put this to her (m'lud) and she agreed. I also told her I would write this up and she was quite happy about that! So, hello!
Remember the postings about shoplifters who feign illness in order to get out of their predicament when they are caught? I got another one today. He had been caught allegedly stealing from a shop and I was called because as soon as the police turned up he collapsed and pretended (allegedly) to have a fit. No ambulance was despatched; even EOC sensed a time-waster. I arrived to find him making moaning noises and clutching at bits of his body. The police were bemused and the shop staff confused. He told me that he now had chest pain - usually a gauranteed 'get out of jail' card but not this time. All his obs. were normal and I chatted to him about the situation, explaining that he would have a police officer with him all the way to and through hospital and he would be charged after he had been checked out. This is true.
The police were experienced enough to know the game we were playing and the man recovered completely (no moaning or clutching) when he was told that he could just go home if he didn't waste anybody's time. I know that this sounds crass and possibly risky but I had no doubt whatsoever and neither did the police. He was faking. He declined my offer of hospital treatment on the basis that he could walk away and that's exactly what he did. He walked remarkably fast for a postictal chest pain patient.
I was the only car on and there were few ambulances to spare for trivial calls, so I did my best to convey calls when I knew it was safe and appropriate to do so.
I got a half hour of stand-by in the sun at my usual spot at Trafalgar Square. The opera singer was there again, this time with blue high heels on. I wouldn't have noticed but they were very blue. She enchanted the crowd (and me) with a couple of beautifully delivered arias. I wish all buskers were this sophisticated. Class on the street, that's what she is.
My serenity was shattered by an incoming call. This time I was off to see a lady who had dislocated her shoulder. I arrived to find her sprawled in the doorway of a theatre. She had fallen hard and put her shoulder out. This was her second dislocation, the first had required surgery to repair and now the same shoulder was poking out abnormally. I gave her entonox, which brought relief from the pain and I knew I had to move her. I decided to take her in the car because I was literally 2 minutes away from hospital. Also, calls were being GB'd, so I knew she would be lying there for a while if I didn't. I put a splint on her arm and this had the effect of slightly extending and rotating her arm (without pain I should add). The shoulder popped back in on its own. Instant relief.
We are not allowed to reduce disloctions, lots of things can go wrong if you don't do it properly but I knew that a little manipulation might prove useful and it did. I was going to have to move her anyway, so she had to be in a splint or sling first. A sling was out of the question because she was lying down and her arm was straight. She arrived at hospital happy and pain-free. She will get an x-ray to check all is well but it sounds like her shoulder will be the bane of her life.
I had my break late in the day and then I was sent to a station to sort out a drunk woman who had refused to move from a train she had arrived in from up North. The police were on scene and LAS had been called because she had medical problems - alcoholism was one of them. She had recently been discharged from hospital after treatment for a head injury, sustained when she was drunk and incapable, so that added to the need for her to go and be checked out. I asked for an ambulance for her. She was far too loud and boisterous for me to convey in the car. The crew were very understanding though.
On the way to the ambulance she said something and sprayed saliva as she spoke. I caught a drop of it on my lip. I know it wasn't raining because there were no clouds up there, so I worriedly wiped my mouth and averted my face (proximity is sometimes a bad thing). I spat a lot after that.
I love to treat independent elderly people, they prove that old age doesn't have to be debilitating and that, sometimes, life can be good to you and serve you up enough energy to go on for much longer - Duracell longevity I call it. I went to a supermarket to treat a 90-year-old who had fallen down stairs and twisted her ankle. She had also bumped her head and hurt her wrist in the process. These are standard injuries for this type of fall. She had no significant medical history, which is astonishing. At that age blood pressure, the heart, the kidneys...something must be failing and causing trouble. For a lot of people the process of disease begins in middle age, yet this lady had me write something on my PRF that usually only applies to much younger people 'normally fit and well'. She was a lovely person too and I enjoyed chatting to her as I drove her to hospital.
At the end of my day I started driving towards base and was given one last call. The description sounded familiar and I sensed this was a regular. He had already called three times before and nobody had found him on scene. He was claiming that he had a burst hernia and that his bowel was spilling out.
I arrived on scene and couldn't find him. I asked a couple of traffic wardens and they pointed him out (after I gave a description relayed by EOC) in a call box further down the street. I knew him instantly. He was a real frequent flyer and even the hospital staff don't listen to him anymore. His colostomy bag had spilled over and he was covered in faeces. He smelled abominably and it took me a couple of tries to get in the phone box so that I could talk to him. I have dealt with this guy (and written about him) at least three times before. He neglects himself, that's all. Then he calls for an ambulance and goes to hospital and cleans himself up - the nurses refuse to do it now.
I asked for an ambulance but realised, at this time of day, I was unlikely to get one soon. Other crews would know this guy and I thought about my options. I didn't really have any. I wrapped him in a blanket (which will be burned I hope) and put him in the car. I drove him to hospital with the windows open.
I can still smell him on my uniform.
Be safe.
Friday, 30 March 2007
New Stuff
I've been away doing other business-type things. Am back on duty soon.
I have added a new feature to the site, the blog community thingy (scroll down, you'll see it). Join if you can, then I can see the 'regular' readers amongst you. I haven't actually read all about how it works yet but I'm sure it's safe!
And can I remind you that the little voting feature is perfectly secure and private! I can't see inside your house with the Google map! It's an approximate location only. If you do or say something illegal then I can always track your IP address, right? :-)
I've also had one person (ambulance service) complain about how graphic I am. I didn't publish the comment because, as you know, they get messy and pointless after a while. I have considered what was said though and I am sure of 2 things:
1. I have cut RIGHT back on my graphic descriptions of bad jobs. The description I gave of recent horror jobs was very diluted, I can assure you.
2. I completely understand patient confidentiality and have studied it in some depth, so don't worry about that. This blog complies with all stated internal and legal policies on the definition of patient confidentiality. Next time you are chatting to your girlfriend or boyfriend about a job, you should consider the definition of patient confidentiality.
If you have a 'negative' comment to make, please feel free but DO NOT get personal or insulting, especially if you are hiding behind anonymous. If you know who I am I much prefer a level playing field. Come and talk to me.
Right. Back to work.
Be safe.
I have added a new feature to the site, the blog community thingy (scroll down, you'll see it). Join if you can, then I can see the 'regular' readers amongst you. I haven't actually read all about how it works yet but I'm sure it's safe!
And can I remind you that the little voting feature is perfectly secure and private! I can't see inside your house with the Google map! It's an approximate location only. If you do or say something illegal then I can always track your IP address, right? :-)
I've also had one person (ambulance service) complain about how graphic I am. I didn't publish the comment because, as you know, they get messy and pointless after a while. I have considered what was said though and I am sure of 2 things:
1. I have cut RIGHT back on my graphic descriptions of bad jobs. The description I gave of recent horror jobs was very diluted, I can assure you.
2. I completely understand patient confidentiality and have studied it in some depth, so don't worry about that. This blog complies with all stated internal and legal policies on the definition of patient confidentiality. Next time you are chatting to your girlfriend or boyfriend about a job, you should consider the definition of patient confidentiality.
If you have a 'negative' comment to make, please feel free but DO NOT get personal or insulting, especially if you are hiding behind anonymous. If you know who I am I much prefer a level playing field. Come and talk to me.
Right. Back to work.
Be safe.
Monday, 26 March 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, 25 March 2007
Unnerved
Ten emergency calls; 2 running calls and 2 conveyed.
The weather doesn't even have to be much of a factor anymore. If it's Saturday night, people are gonna go out and get as drunk and as stupid as they possibly can. Young females will wear the shortest of skirts (if at all) and the guys will wear a shirt over jeans, even if its only 10 degrees. I was always taught 'never cast a cloot til May's oot', which roughly translated means don't start stripping off until the month of May has finished, then its Summer. Mind you, that applied more in Scotland where Summer tends to come when it suits - like August.
My first job dragged me down South of the river to a collapse ? cause. I arrived to find a bystander with a man of considerable girth who was lying in an alley on a large estate. I had to use my torch to see what he looked like - these places are never lit properly. He was asking to go to a specific hospital and when that happens I know that we are probably not dealing with a dire emergency. The crew arrived and we all hoisted him up and shuffled him into the ambulance. I didn't spend too long getting to know the ins and outs of his condition but I suspect he just wanted to be somewhere warmer and safer than here. So did I.
As I made my way back towards the river and Central London, I was given a job just around the corner in SE-nearlymadeit. It was to a stabbing - 'male stabbed in head by schitzophrenic person'. Lovely. I saw a police van screaming off in that general direction and I called Control to ask if there was a police presence on scene. They told me to wait at a safe stand-by point and they would get back to me (that has never happened) and I told them I had seen the police go that way so I would trundle along and catch up with them. I got caught out however.
I turned a corner at a junction and found myself on scene, with no police, just a bunch of people at a bus stop looking up at the top floor of a 'known' building. I stopped the car and I could hear voices shouting down at me. The bus stop crowd looked at me and then back up again. I got out of the car, after I had told Control where I was, and the voices became faces attached to heads that were leaning out of the top floor window. They were shouting and gesturing for me to go up. I called back to them and told them I would have to wait for the police and I asked if the man with the weapon was still up there. They said no.
I prepared my bags and the police, thankfully, began to arrive. First one car, then another, then a few more. The noise of sirens became a cacophony in seconds.
The police rushed in and up the stairs, with me in tow. At the top floor - no lift and a million stairs - there were four noisy people inside a tiny little bedsit. One of them had been stabbed a number of times. I inspected the stab wound on his head, which was actively bleeding and dressed it quickly. I then worked systematically down his neck and chest and discovered another wound, quite a deep one, in his chest and another, less deep, in his back. He also had a wound on his arm, which was deep. The crew arrived quickly and I didn't get any further with my checks. They got him out of there and into the ambulance.
The patient was quite aware that he had wounds but he didn't have a clue how many. He didn't know he had been stabbed in the chest and that was potentially the most serious wound for him. He went to hospital in a stable condition and I have no doubt he will need stitches and possibly some repair to any damage caused to his lung.
This call unnerved me for the rest of the night because I was aware of how easy it is to be stabbed. On a separate call I was with a suicidal and very depressed man with chest pain. He was a big man and I was alone with him in his flat, surrounded by strange artwork, self-written poems and weird declarations adorning the walls. He also had a lot of condoms lying around. All the time I was checking him and talking to him I was planning an escape route in case he suddenly decided to attack me. Even with the stab vest on, I felt vulnerable. I don't usually feel like that and so it must have been the stabbing job that triggered this unease. It wasn't a particularly horrible job - as you know, I've seen much worse - it was the vulnerability of it. How easily it could be done. In seconds you could have a potentially fatal stab wound.
The man in the flat was no threat to me, I realised that when I had spent twenty minutes with him but I still didn't feel safe in that place.
I got a call to a frequent flyer who always complains of chest pain. As soon as the location of the call was given, I knew it would be him. Sure enough, there he was, sitting on the pavement, mobile phone to his ear as he clutched his chest and parodied pain in the worst possible way. He has no heart condition - he just has a problem with attention and not getting enough. I spoke of this man in an earlier posting and I told you he wouldn't catch me out again. Neither me nor the police (who also recognised him) were fooled. A crew came to pick him up anyway - we can't refuse an ambulance in these circumstances, especially with 'chest pain'.
While I was on that call, I was handed a running call by the police. They had a man with them who had sprained his thumb after falling in the road, in front of a bus. The bus driver had got out and shouted at him to get out of the way, the man had not responded and so the driver really shouted at him and the man actually wet himself with fear. The police handed him over to me and told me he was a deaf mute. That explains his reluctance to get off the road on demand. The poor bloke was scared stiff and I was happy to run him up to hospital in the car while our regular timewaster got an ambulance and two professionals to tend to his needs.
Whilst on stand-by I was offered a chocolate by a girl dressed as a devil (or maybe it was the devil). The chocolate eclairs were taped to her top and I had to pick one off. Cost me 50p.
I was also told by two middle-aged women that I looked like Barry Manilow. My nose took offence at this immediately! Barry Manilow...I don't think so!
An assault near the square and I was waiting almost 30 minutes for an ambulance. When everyone starts fighting, we get stretched very thin. The young man had allegedly been set upon by an angry man whose girlfriend had, allegedly, been insulted. He kicked and punched the young man, who was now lying on the pavement, then jumped on his head a couple of times for good measure - allegedly. Nice to see that once a man is down he is pretty much left alone.
My last call of the night was to a very upset young girl, again lying on the pavement, drunk and emotional and not at all interested in me or my kind words. She was quite rude to me in fact. Nevertheless, alcohol being everyone's enemy, I took her and her in-laws to hospital for a rest.
The news has been covering the story of an LAS employee who was set upon and beaten up on a train as he went to work. The reason? He was wearing his uniform. The future is NOT bright.
Be safe.
The weather doesn't even have to be much of a factor anymore. If it's Saturday night, people are gonna go out and get as drunk and as stupid as they possibly can. Young females will wear the shortest of skirts (if at all) and the guys will wear a shirt over jeans, even if its only 10 degrees. I was always taught 'never cast a cloot til May's oot', which roughly translated means don't start stripping off until the month of May has finished, then its Summer. Mind you, that applied more in Scotland where Summer tends to come when it suits - like August.
My first job dragged me down South of the river to a collapse ? cause. I arrived to find a bystander with a man of considerable girth who was lying in an alley on a large estate. I had to use my torch to see what he looked like - these places are never lit properly. He was asking to go to a specific hospital and when that happens I know that we are probably not dealing with a dire emergency. The crew arrived and we all hoisted him up and shuffled him into the ambulance. I didn't spend too long getting to know the ins and outs of his condition but I suspect he just wanted to be somewhere warmer and safer than here. So did I.
As I made my way back towards the river and Central London, I was given a job just around the corner in SE-nearlymadeit. It was to a stabbing - 'male stabbed in head by schitzophrenic person'. Lovely. I saw a police van screaming off in that general direction and I called Control to ask if there was a police presence on scene. They told me to wait at a safe stand-by point and they would get back to me (that has never happened) and I told them I had seen the police go that way so I would trundle along and catch up with them. I got caught out however.
I turned a corner at a junction and found myself on scene, with no police, just a bunch of people at a bus stop looking up at the top floor of a 'known' building. I stopped the car and I could hear voices shouting down at me. The bus stop crowd looked at me and then back up again. I got out of the car, after I had told Control where I was, and the voices became faces attached to heads that were leaning out of the top floor window. They were shouting and gesturing for me to go up. I called back to them and told them I would have to wait for the police and I asked if the man with the weapon was still up there. They said no.
I prepared my bags and the police, thankfully, began to arrive. First one car, then another, then a few more. The noise of sirens became a cacophony in seconds.
The police rushed in and up the stairs, with me in tow. At the top floor - no lift and a million stairs - there were four noisy people inside a tiny little bedsit. One of them had been stabbed a number of times. I inspected the stab wound on his head, which was actively bleeding and dressed it quickly. I then worked systematically down his neck and chest and discovered another wound, quite a deep one, in his chest and another, less deep, in his back. He also had a wound on his arm, which was deep. The crew arrived quickly and I didn't get any further with my checks. They got him out of there and into the ambulance.
The patient was quite aware that he had wounds but he didn't have a clue how many. He didn't know he had been stabbed in the chest and that was potentially the most serious wound for him. He went to hospital in a stable condition and I have no doubt he will need stitches and possibly some repair to any damage caused to his lung.
This call unnerved me for the rest of the night because I was aware of how easy it is to be stabbed. On a separate call I was with a suicidal and very depressed man with chest pain. He was a big man and I was alone with him in his flat, surrounded by strange artwork, self-written poems and weird declarations adorning the walls. He also had a lot of condoms lying around. All the time I was checking him and talking to him I was planning an escape route in case he suddenly decided to attack me. Even with the stab vest on, I felt vulnerable. I don't usually feel like that and so it must have been the stabbing job that triggered this unease. It wasn't a particularly horrible job - as you know, I've seen much worse - it was the vulnerability of it. How easily it could be done. In seconds you could have a potentially fatal stab wound.
The man in the flat was no threat to me, I realised that when I had spent twenty minutes with him but I still didn't feel safe in that place.
I got a call to a frequent flyer who always complains of chest pain. As soon as the location of the call was given, I knew it would be him. Sure enough, there he was, sitting on the pavement, mobile phone to his ear as he clutched his chest and parodied pain in the worst possible way. He has no heart condition - he just has a problem with attention and not getting enough. I spoke of this man in an earlier posting and I told you he wouldn't catch me out again. Neither me nor the police (who also recognised him) were fooled. A crew came to pick him up anyway - we can't refuse an ambulance in these circumstances, especially with 'chest pain'.
While I was on that call, I was handed a running call by the police. They had a man with them who had sprained his thumb after falling in the road, in front of a bus. The bus driver had got out and shouted at him to get out of the way, the man had not responded and so the driver really shouted at him and the man actually wet himself with fear. The police handed him over to me and told me he was a deaf mute. That explains his reluctance to get off the road on demand. The poor bloke was scared stiff and I was happy to run him up to hospital in the car while our regular timewaster got an ambulance and two professionals to tend to his needs.
Whilst on stand-by I was offered a chocolate by a girl dressed as a devil (or maybe it was the devil). The chocolate eclairs were taped to her top and I had to pick one off. Cost me 50p.
I was also told by two middle-aged women that I looked like Barry Manilow. My nose took offence at this immediately! Barry Manilow...I don't think so!
An assault near the square and I was waiting almost 30 minutes for an ambulance. When everyone starts fighting, we get stretched very thin. The young man had allegedly been set upon by an angry man whose girlfriend had, allegedly, been insulted. He kicked and punched the young man, who was now lying on the pavement, then jumped on his head a couple of times for good measure - allegedly. Nice to see that once a man is down he is pretty much left alone.
My last call of the night was to a very upset young girl, again lying on the pavement, drunk and emotional and not at all interested in me or my kind words. She was quite rude to me in fact. Nevertheless, alcohol being everyone's enemy, I took her and her in-laws to hospital for a rest.
The news has been covering the story of an LAS employee who was set upon and beaten up on a train as he went to work. The reason? He was wearing his uniform. The future is NOT bright.
Be safe.
Saturday, 24 March 2007
Drunk Chinamen
Most of the time my colleagues and I will be attending the needs of the drunk and disorderly on a regular basis when the weekend starts (Thursday night - or Monday night if it's Summer). We ask them if they have had a drink tonight, sir/madam, and convince them that they can, (a) walk away - no harm done, (b) come with us to hospital and waste everyone's time and money or (c) get arrested for doing neither A nor B. Those options have always been offered to the 'usual suspects'. Recently, however, I have noticed a growing number of our Chinese friends getting in on the act.
My first call of the night was to a 'man cutting his head with glass'. He was seen acting in this erratic manner by police, who subsequently approached and told him to stop it. Then they called an ambulance because he must be mad if he is doing this, right? When I arrived I inspected the damage caused by the self-glassing. He had scratches on the top of his cranium - nothing to write home (to Poland, incidentally) about and certainly nothing to treat. He did go to hospital though, he had issues. He was depressed and had nowhere to live. As you know, I have a lot of sympathy for those in need of shelter, especially on a cold night but I wondered why he wanted to be in this country at all if he couldn't survive. Surely he had family and friends at home?
On my way back to the station I saw a mob of skaters (the roller-blade type, it wasn't that cold) scooting down Charing Cross Road. It looked like they were either demonstrating their constitutional right to skate down the middle of a busy and dangerous road or they were mutually lost.
Then a call to an unconscious 16 year-old female. She was lying in the street with her personal belongings scattered around her. On closer inspection, her belongings consisted of far too many condoms for a young lady. She didn't look as young as sixteen but she was either an enthusiastic collector of condoms, very sexually active, or a working girl. She was drunk or stoned or both and needed to be scraped off the pavement by myself and the attending crew. When I had done what was required of me, I sat in the car doing my paperwork. I heard a crash and a raised voice and looked up to see a young Chinese man punching the air and pushing into the street crowds. He had just upset some rubbish bins and was aggressively laying into anything inanimate that obstructed his path. I watched him disappear into Chinatown.
What is it with parents who let their kids out late in dangerous parts of town? I saw a little gang of ten-year-olds wandering around Leicester Square well after midnight. No adult supervision. No safe guidance. Not enough clothes on and way too many creepy blokes wandering around in the same arena with them. I would be worried sick if my young daughter was out this late. Am I old fashioned or am I making sense?
As I sat on the Square wondering what the world was coming to and imagining the licensing system that we needed for parenting in the future, I received a call for an 'unconscious female'. The location was nearby so it took me a minute to get there. I arrived to find four Christian leaflet distributors gathered around an intoxicated lady who was crouching and crying in the doorway of a restuarant. She told me she didn't want me there as soon as I opened my mouth to say hello and so I called Control and cancelled the ambulance. I wasn't wasting any time with this if I didn't have to. The Christians told me that she had been here for a while and that she was not well. I suggested she was just panicking and drunk but the Christians were not convinced.
"She has a fever", the tall lady Christian said
"How do you know madam, do you have a thermometer?", I asked (politely of course)
"No but she must be ill"
"She is panicking and hyperventilating, that's all."
I wasn't going to have a stand-up debate in the street and besides, there were more Christians than Scotsmen on scene and I know when I'm beat! I persuaded them all that I was in control now and that there was nothing to see here. I thanked them, they thanked me and off they went to drum up more business for Jesus.
It turns out the woman had lost her friend and her wallet had gone missing in a club. She was a very fragile soul with other issues going on in her life, as she confessed later. She had been drinking and that never helps when you are already depressed, so she was crying and hyperventilating and all she needed was a quiet voice and a bit of reassurance. I had the restaurant open its now locked doors so that she could use the loo and she became much calmer after that. We sat and chatted and she decided to use her Oyster card to get the bus home. That, for me, was a successful call and it didn't cost the taxpayer much either.
I sat with my beloved paperwork and I noticed, out the corner of my eye, that a cyclist had stopped at the passenger side window to look in at me. I wound the window down and he nodded and smiled.
"London's too dangerous now", he said, "too many nutters - they're all mad".
As he cycled off at a 45 degree angle across the haymarket traffic, I had to agree.
I spent the shift with a plaster on my thumb because I sliced it open on something earlier and it wouldn't stop bleeding. Annoying little paper-cut. Plasters are rubbish these days, there's hardly enough adhesive on them to keep them stuck. Thankfully, I'm a 24-hour healer :-)
On my way back to base I drove across Waterloo bridge and saw another drunk Chinaman. He was hanging over the bridge, waving at the water and shouting (I assume) obscenities at the boats. I see a trend developing.
Be safe.
My first call of the night was to a 'man cutting his head with glass'. He was seen acting in this erratic manner by police, who subsequently approached and told him to stop it. Then they called an ambulance because he must be mad if he is doing this, right? When I arrived I inspected the damage caused by the self-glassing. He had scratches on the top of his cranium - nothing to write home (to Poland, incidentally) about and certainly nothing to treat. He did go to hospital though, he had issues. He was depressed and had nowhere to live. As you know, I have a lot of sympathy for those in need of shelter, especially on a cold night but I wondered why he wanted to be in this country at all if he couldn't survive. Surely he had family and friends at home?
On my way back to the station I saw a mob of skaters (the roller-blade type, it wasn't that cold) scooting down Charing Cross Road. It looked like they were either demonstrating their constitutional right to skate down the middle of a busy and dangerous road or they were mutually lost.
Then a call to an unconscious 16 year-old female. She was lying in the street with her personal belongings scattered around her. On closer inspection, her belongings consisted of far too many condoms for a young lady. She didn't look as young as sixteen but she was either an enthusiastic collector of condoms, very sexually active, or a working girl. She was drunk or stoned or both and needed to be scraped off the pavement by myself and the attending crew. When I had done what was required of me, I sat in the car doing my paperwork. I heard a crash and a raised voice and looked up to see a young Chinese man punching the air and pushing into the street crowds. He had just upset some rubbish bins and was aggressively laying into anything inanimate that obstructed his path. I watched him disappear into Chinatown.
What is it with parents who let their kids out late in dangerous parts of town? I saw a little gang of ten-year-olds wandering around Leicester Square well after midnight. No adult supervision. No safe guidance. Not enough clothes on and way too many creepy blokes wandering around in the same arena with them. I would be worried sick if my young daughter was out this late. Am I old fashioned or am I making sense?
As I sat on the Square wondering what the world was coming to and imagining the licensing system that we needed for parenting in the future, I received a call for an 'unconscious female'. The location was nearby so it took me a minute to get there. I arrived to find four Christian leaflet distributors gathered around an intoxicated lady who was crouching and crying in the doorway of a restuarant. She told me she didn't want me there as soon as I opened my mouth to say hello and so I called Control and cancelled the ambulance. I wasn't wasting any time with this if I didn't have to. The Christians told me that she had been here for a while and that she was not well. I suggested she was just panicking and drunk but the Christians were not convinced.
"She has a fever", the tall lady Christian said
"How do you know madam, do you have a thermometer?", I asked (politely of course)
"No but she must be ill"
"She is panicking and hyperventilating, that's all."
I wasn't going to have a stand-up debate in the street and besides, there were more Christians than Scotsmen on scene and I know when I'm beat! I persuaded them all that I was in control now and that there was nothing to see here. I thanked them, they thanked me and off they went to drum up more business for Jesus.
It turns out the woman had lost her friend and her wallet had gone missing in a club. She was a very fragile soul with other issues going on in her life, as she confessed later. She had been drinking and that never helps when you are already depressed, so she was crying and hyperventilating and all she needed was a quiet voice and a bit of reassurance. I had the restaurant open its now locked doors so that she could use the loo and she became much calmer after that. We sat and chatted and she decided to use her Oyster card to get the bus home. That, for me, was a successful call and it didn't cost the taxpayer much either.
I sat with my beloved paperwork and I noticed, out the corner of my eye, that a cyclist had stopped at the passenger side window to look in at me. I wound the window down and he nodded and smiled.
"London's too dangerous now", he said, "too many nutters - they're all mad".
As he cycled off at a 45 degree angle across the haymarket traffic, I had to agree.
I spent the shift with a plaster on my thumb because I sliced it open on something earlier and it wouldn't stop bleeding. Annoying little paper-cut. Plasters are rubbish these days, there's hardly enough adhesive on them to keep them stuck. Thankfully, I'm a 24-hour healer :-)
On my way back to base I drove across Waterloo bridge and saw another drunk Chinaman. He was hanging over the bridge, waving at the water and shouting (I assume) obscenities at the boats. I see a trend developing.
Be safe.
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