He opened the door and directed us to the bedroom.
"Can you tell me whats happened?" asks my crew mate.
"I don't know, that's why I called you people. she just doesn't want to get up." his reply seem slightly angry. I put it don't to worry and frustration.
As we walk into the bedroom we immediately see his wife lying face down between the double bed and wall. As usual in the tightest space possible. She was still in her night clothes and there was no attempt at movement or communication. While my crew mate was talking to her and trying to asses what may be going on I continued my conversation with her husband.
"Does she have any medical problems?" I ask trying to take some obs
"Don't think so."
"How has she been keeping lately?"
"Och she was moaning about feeling unwell yesterday. She's always moaning though." he shakes his head.
"And how did she seem to you?"
"Well...she fell over a couple of times and seemed a bit funny, you know?"
"What do you mean funny?"
"Whats with all the questions?" he was almost gritting his teeth
"We're just trying to figure out what has happened."
"Well stop talking to me and try and get her back in bed. I've got things to do." he wonders off into another room.
I look and my crew mate and shake my head. We help the lady onto her side. Still not able to talk to us but her eyes were open and looking around. There was some movement on one side of her body but it was very limited. There was certainly something cerebral going on and by the sounds of it progressing since the previous day. Apart from popping on some 02 and putting an IV in place there wasn't much we could do so we decided just to load and go. There were some concrete steps at the front door so we were going to have to remove the lady on our chair.
When I returned with our chair I met the husband in the kitchen.
"Where are you taking her?" he asks
"We'll take her to Grumpy Hospital, A&E."
He rolls his eyes "Does she have to go?!"
"Em, yeah. She's really not well sir." I started to wonder if this guy was aware of how serious this could be.
"So...whats the problem?"
"Could be a few things but most likely a stroke."
"Oh great, that's all I bloody need!"
"Excuse me?"
"That's all I need! Her having a bloody stroke." He really looked pissed off.
"I don't think she planned it." I wasn't listening any more.
I returned to the bedroom and started moving furniture around to create some space. After a bit of a struggle we get the lady on the chair and out to the ambulance. I return to the house once more.
I pop my head through the kitchen door and see hubby making a cup of coffee "Do you want to come with her sir?"
"No." he sits at the dining table and turns on the small portable TV sitting on the worktop. He doesn't even turn to acknowledge me or offer any reason.
I leave him to watch the Jeremy Kyle show and take his wife to the hospital.
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
Monday, 17 August 2009
Beer Goggles
My focus has been slightly else where lately and to be honest not much exciting has been happening. However, here's a wee story from another crew.
The call had come through as - 30yr old female, collapsed.
On the way to the job they received an update suggesting this is a possible cardiac arrest.
As they walked into the house they could hear shouting and laughter coming from a room. A tad unusual for a cardiac arrest! As they enter the room they see a woman lying in the middle of floor surrounded by her friends, all drinking their cheap cider. A closer look and the crew recognise the 'collapsed' lady. One of the drunks opens his mouth to speak to the crew but was promptly stopped by a Paramedic placing his index finger against his lips and giving the universal 'be quiet'....
"Right ***** come on, get up." she still lies on the dirty carpet, not a movement.
"Look ***** I've been out to see you a few times now, I know the score." A few seconds pass. There's a deep sigh before she opens her eyes and stands up.
"I could have been dead you know!" she slurs "I'm not going anywhere with you pair of bastards."
"Fair enough! Right who phoned the Ambulance?" The Paramedic asks scanning the room.
One of the drunken men gingerly puts his hand in the air.
"Right come on you're going to hospital."
He looked slightly panicked and confused "Me?....Why?"
"Cause if you think she's 30 you need to go to the eye clinic!"
The call had come through as - 30yr old female, collapsed.
On the way to the job they received an update suggesting this is a possible cardiac arrest.
As they walked into the house they could hear shouting and laughter coming from a room. A tad unusual for a cardiac arrest! As they enter the room they see a woman lying in the middle of floor surrounded by her friends, all drinking their cheap cider. A closer look and the crew recognise the 'collapsed' lady. One of the drunks opens his mouth to speak to the crew but was promptly stopped by a Paramedic placing his index finger against his lips and giving the universal 'be quiet'....
"Right ***** come on, get up." she still lies on the dirty carpet, not a movement.
"Look ***** I've been out to see you a few times now, I know the score." A few seconds pass. There's a deep sigh before she opens her eyes and stands up.
"I could have been dead you know!" she slurs "I'm not going anywhere with you pair of bastards."
"Fair enough! Right who phoned the Ambulance?" The Paramedic asks scanning the room.
One of the drunken men gingerly puts his hand in the air.
"Right come on you're going to hospital."
He looked slightly panicked and confused "Me?....Why?"
"Cause if you think she's 30 you need to go to the eye clinic!"
Wednesday, 12 August 2009
The Listener
He doesn't judge...He doesn't offer advice...
Its never happened to him before...
He doesn't know best....
He hasn't seen it all before...
It hasn't happened to a friend of his...
He won't patronize...
He just listens....
Then he farts and falls asleep!
Monday, 10 August 2009
Behind Closed Eyes
In this job there are certain calls that haunt you forever. Calls that tattoo images into the dark abyss behind you're closed eyes. This weekend I had one of these calls and, to be honest, it has hit me hard.
I'm struggling!
I'm struggling!
Coming Down
I stood peering skywards dwarfed by the concrete giant, a million windows gazing out into the surrounding city. I knew the address was near the top so I prayed to the Gods that the elevator would be working. I pressed the button and heard the mechanics behind the sliding doors begin to move. They never sound quite safe to me.
As soon as we were in the small box of an elevator I began to wish I had considered the stairs. The smell of stale urine was overpowering. We never spoke all the way up, scared that we might inhale through our nose. I passed the time reading the graffiti covered walls. Noting who loved who, what I could do with myself if I was a Glasgow Rangers fan or who I could phone if I fancies some ‘man love’. The elevator doors finally opened and we stepped into the corridor, it didn’t smell much better. After finding the address we gave a loud knock on the door and wondered in.
A young lady poked her head through a doorway at the far end of the hall.
“He’s in here.” She tells us before disappearing back inside.
We walk in and find our patient in full tonic clonic seizure. His face bright red from the neck up, almost as though he was wearing a mask.
“What’s happened?” Joe, my crew mate asks kneeling down beside the jerking man.
“He’s been like this for about 20 minutes.” The young lady tells us starting to cry.
“Does he suffer from seizures?” Joe prepares to cannulate while I place an oxygen mask over the patient and pass 10 litres of o2 through the pipes.
“No….I don’t think so.”
“So what’s happened today then?”
“He’…em….”
“Come on this is important, we need to know.” Joe finds a vein and asks me for the cannula.
“He’s taken some E’s….you know, ecstasy!”
“How many?”
“About 12.”
“What?!!!” Joe looks up at the girl
“12 I think.”
Joe gets his vein first time; I pass him a flush before leaving the room. He doesn’t need to tell me that this lad needed to be in hospital 5 minutes ago. The elevator is still at our floor so the doors open as soon as I press the button. As I step inside I realise it’s far too small for our trolley to fit it. On the way down I mull over my options. The chairs a no no, this guys having a full seizure so there’s know way he can bend in the middle to sit in a chair. Joe would have delivered the Diazapam by now but I still didn’t think it would be worth the risk. If I returned and he was still seizing it would cost valuable time returning to the vehicle to swap equipment again. The elevator doors pinged open again, as I returned to the vehicle I decided my best option would be the orthopaedic stretcher, also known as ‘The Scoop’. This stretcher splits straight down the middle, so in theory you can place one half on each side of the patient and ‘scoop’ them up (you can have a look here). It also works well when you have an awkward lift. If you strap a patient to it correctly you can move them to pretty much any angle. Can you see where I’m going with his?!
He’s settled slightly when I return. Still fitting but the Diazapam has done its job, and his muscles have relaxed. Joe looks at the scoop then looks at me raising his eyebrows. I smile and explain my plan. He returns a smile and shakes his head before agreeing to give it a try.
The scoops in place and the patient is strapped in. Joe takes the head end as we pick up our patient and head for the exit. The doors open and Joe walks in first. I place my end on the floor and help Joe pull his end until the patient is vertical. Patient in the middle strapped to the stretcher almost appearing as though he’s levitating, feet a few inches of the ground. Joe to his left, me to his right holding him upright. On the way down the elevator makes an unplanned stop and the doors slide open
“Morning!” I say smiling at the group of pensioners staring at us wide eyed. Their jaws dropping so far they were in danger of loosing their dentures.
“Em…sorry….we’ll just get the next one.”
“Ok, no bother.” I couldn’t help a little snigger.
Before long he was in the vehicle and we were on route to the hospital. Despite the length of his seizure I believe he’s made a full recovery. But after taking 12 E's he's probably missing a few brain cells!
As soon as we were in the small box of an elevator I began to wish I had considered the stairs. The smell of stale urine was overpowering. We never spoke all the way up, scared that we might inhale through our nose. I passed the time reading the graffiti covered walls. Noting who loved who, what I could do with myself if I was a Glasgow Rangers fan or who I could phone if I fancies some ‘man love’. The elevator doors finally opened and we stepped into the corridor, it didn’t smell much better. After finding the address we gave a loud knock on the door and wondered in.
A young lady poked her head through a doorway at the far end of the hall.
“He’s in here.” She tells us before disappearing back inside.
We walk in and find our patient in full tonic clonic seizure. His face bright red from the neck up, almost as though he was wearing a mask.
“What’s happened?” Joe, my crew mate asks kneeling down beside the jerking man.
“He’s been like this for about 20 minutes.” The young lady tells us starting to cry.
“Does he suffer from seizures?” Joe prepares to cannulate while I place an oxygen mask over the patient and pass 10 litres of o2 through the pipes.
“No….I don’t think so.”
“So what’s happened today then?”
“He’…em….”
“Come on this is important, we need to know.” Joe finds a vein and asks me for the cannula.
“He’s taken some E’s….you know, ecstasy!”
“How many?”
“About 12.”
“What?!!!” Joe looks up at the girl
“12 I think.”
Joe gets his vein first time; I pass him a flush before leaving the room. He doesn’t need to tell me that this lad needed to be in hospital 5 minutes ago. The elevator is still at our floor so the doors open as soon as I press the button. As I step inside I realise it’s far too small for our trolley to fit it. On the way down I mull over my options. The chairs a no no, this guys having a full seizure so there’s know way he can bend in the middle to sit in a chair. Joe would have delivered the Diazapam by now but I still didn’t think it would be worth the risk. If I returned and he was still seizing it would cost valuable time returning to the vehicle to swap equipment again. The elevator doors pinged open again, as I returned to the vehicle I decided my best option would be the orthopaedic stretcher, also known as ‘The Scoop’. This stretcher splits straight down the middle, so in theory you can place one half on each side of the patient and ‘scoop’ them up (you can have a look here). It also works well when you have an awkward lift. If you strap a patient to it correctly you can move them to pretty much any angle. Can you see where I’m going with his?!
He’s settled slightly when I return. Still fitting but the Diazapam has done its job, and his muscles have relaxed. Joe looks at the scoop then looks at me raising his eyebrows. I smile and explain my plan. He returns a smile and shakes his head before agreeing to give it a try.
The scoops in place and the patient is strapped in. Joe takes the head end as we pick up our patient and head for the exit. The doors open and Joe walks in first. I place my end on the floor and help Joe pull his end until the patient is vertical. Patient in the middle strapped to the stretcher almost appearing as though he’s levitating, feet a few inches of the ground. Joe to his left, me to his right holding him upright. On the way down the elevator makes an unplanned stop and the doors slide open
“Morning!” I say smiling at the group of pensioners staring at us wide eyed. Their jaws dropping so far they were in danger of loosing their dentures.
“Em…sorry….we’ll just get the next one.”
“Ok, no bother.” I couldn’t help a little snigger.
Before long he was in the vehicle and we were on route to the hospital. Despite the length of his seizure I believe he’s made a full recovery. But after taking 12 E's he's probably missing a few brain cells!
Tuesday, 4 August 2009
Mere Mortals
The alarm of another emergency broke the tired silence within the vehicle. I glanced down at the computer, the white illumination of the information screen causing a discomfort to my weary eyes. It was our 4th nightshift of the week and they were taking their toll. As I read the letters on the screen I heard myself tut out loud.
’34 year old male. Vomiting earlier.’
I was frustrated, another waste of our time. It seems that all anyone has to do these days is sneeze and they call for an Ambulance. I was working with Roger and he’s a bit more optimistic than me.
“Let’s just wait and see once we get there.” He says.
I grit my teeth, turn on the blues and make for the location.
As we pull up outside the house I notice how nice the area is. Even under the orange glow of the street lights you could tell the houses were pricey and the gardens well maintained. Roger was attending so I let him lead the way up the paved driveway, bag and oxygen in hand. I wondered behind carrying the defibrillator, still cursing the caller for abusing our time. Someone had opened the door prior to us arriving so we gave a light knock before entering the hall.
“Hello….Ambulance.” Roger called looking for direction
“In here.” I ladies voice answered
As we walked into the living room I immediately felt the guilt for assuming someone was abusing our time.
He was sitting on the couch, vomit visible on his t-shirt, his grey jogging bottoms darkened by fluid down to his knees. His weakness was obvious, unable to raise his head his chin clung to his chest. He was pale and sweaty and was only able to mumble the same sentence over and over again.
“It’s soar, it’s so soar.”
Roger walked over to him “What’s soar?”
“My head, its soar. So soar.”
We both look towards the lady in the room. Our expression asked the question and she began to explain.
“He has a brain tumour. He went for a scan 5 weeks ago and was told the tumour had grown. He’s had 3 rounds of chemotherapy but it hasn’t worked.” Her gaze told us that no further treatment was available for this young man. “He’s had 3 seizures today, the last just before you arrived. That’s why I dialled 999. The GP was out earlier and decided he should go to hospital but that was 2 hours ago. I couldn’t wait any longer.” She looked apologetic.
“I completely understand.” Roger continued his conversation with the lady. Who, by looking at the wedding photos, appeared to be the gentleman’s wife.
I knelt down beside our patient placing an oxygen mask over his face and continued to take some observations. While checking his blood pressure I asked him if he would straighten his arm for me. He apologises.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“I’m just so sorry.” He looked at me for the first time. “It’s just so soar.”
“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing to be sorry for.” I pat his shoulder while the BP cuff inflates. I hang my head in shame, replaying some of the thoughts I had about this gentleman before we entered the house. I was disgusted with myself for being so cynical. There are enough people with this attitude in the job without me contributing to the mass. As I tidy up our equipment I look around and see photos decorating the room. Moments of joy and family peppered all over the walls. I turn my head back towards the door we entered and notice a pile of bright colours in the corner, it was children’s toys. My guilt deepens.
After taking our equipment back to the vehicle I return with the chair. I wheel it close to the couch as Roger explains to our patient what we’re about to do. He manages to slide his large frame across the leather of his seat before pausing briefly, a quick snap of effort and he’s in our chair. We glide him across the wooden floor easily and negotiate the 3 steps from his front door to the drive without a problem. Once in the vehicle we make him as comfortable as possible. I explain to his wife that we won’t be waiting at any red lights and not to panic when she see’s the blue lights come on. She smiles and nods.
On the way to hospital I sit and think about how much of a prick I’ve been. I’m the first to criticise anyone for being judgemental or cynical and yet I had just fallen into the same trap. My thoughts then turned to the young man in the back of the vehicle. He was young, too young. About to die at 34. It was wrong, no justification, no reasoning, no negotiating. It all brought a lump to my throat.
I suppose I should write about how this should make us question our own mortality or how lucky we are. Lecture on counting our own blessings and savouring our health. Telling everyone to enjoy their youth and live their life to the full.
But I don’t think I need too.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Something that I use to live my life by....
He knows not where he's going
For the Ocean will decide
It's not the DESTINATION
It's the glory of THE RIDE
’34 year old male. Vomiting earlier.’
I was frustrated, another waste of our time. It seems that all anyone has to do these days is sneeze and they call for an Ambulance. I was working with Roger and he’s a bit more optimistic than me.
“Let’s just wait and see once we get there.” He says.
I grit my teeth, turn on the blues and make for the location.
As we pull up outside the house I notice how nice the area is. Even under the orange glow of the street lights you could tell the houses were pricey and the gardens well maintained. Roger was attending so I let him lead the way up the paved driveway, bag and oxygen in hand. I wondered behind carrying the defibrillator, still cursing the caller for abusing our time. Someone had opened the door prior to us arriving so we gave a light knock before entering the hall.
“Hello….Ambulance.” Roger called looking for direction
“In here.” I ladies voice answered
As we walked into the living room I immediately felt the guilt for assuming someone was abusing our time.
He was sitting on the couch, vomit visible on his t-shirt, his grey jogging bottoms darkened by fluid down to his knees. His weakness was obvious, unable to raise his head his chin clung to his chest. He was pale and sweaty and was only able to mumble the same sentence over and over again.
“It’s soar, it’s so soar.”
Roger walked over to him “What’s soar?”
“My head, its soar. So soar.”
We both look towards the lady in the room. Our expression asked the question and she began to explain.
“He has a brain tumour. He went for a scan 5 weeks ago and was told the tumour had grown. He’s had 3 rounds of chemotherapy but it hasn’t worked.” Her gaze told us that no further treatment was available for this young man. “He’s had 3 seizures today, the last just before you arrived. That’s why I dialled 999. The GP was out earlier and decided he should go to hospital but that was 2 hours ago. I couldn’t wait any longer.” She looked apologetic.
“I completely understand.” Roger continued his conversation with the lady. Who, by looking at the wedding photos, appeared to be the gentleman’s wife.
I knelt down beside our patient placing an oxygen mask over his face and continued to take some observations. While checking his blood pressure I asked him if he would straighten his arm for me. He apologises.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“I’m just so sorry.” He looked at me for the first time. “It’s just so soar.”
“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing to be sorry for.” I pat his shoulder while the BP cuff inflates. I hang my head in shame, replaying some of the thoughts I had about this gentleman before we entered the house. I was disgusted with myself for being so cynical. There are enough people with this attitude in the job without me contributing to the mass. As I tidy up our equipment I look around and see photos decorating the room. Moments of joy and family peppered all over the walls. I turn my head back towards the door we entered and notice a pile of bright colours in the corner, it was children’s toys. My guilt deepens.
After taking our equipment back to the vehicle I return with the chair. I wheel it close to the couch as Roger explains to our patient what we’re about to do. He manages to slide his large frame across the leather of his seat before pausing briefly, a quick snap of effort and he’s in our chair. We glide him across the wooden floor easily and negotiate the 3 steps from his front door to the drive without a problem. Once in the vehicle we make him as comfortable as possible. I explain to his wife that we won’t be waiting at any red lights and not to panic when she see’s the blue lights come on. She smiles and nods.
On the way to hospital I sit and think about how much of a prick I’ve been. I’m the first to criticise anyone for being judgemental or cynical and yet I had just fallen into the same trap. My thoughts then turned to the young man in the back of the vehicle. He was young, too young. About to die at 34. It was wrong, no justification, no reasoning, no negotiating. It all brought a lump to my throat.
I suppose I should write about how this should make us question our own mortality or how lucky we are. Lecture on counting our own blessings and savouring our health. Telling everyone to enjoy their youth and live their life to the full.
But I don’t think I need too.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Something that I use to live my life by....
He knows not where he's going
For the Ocean will decide
It's not the DESTINATION
It's the glory of THE RIDE
Thursday, 30 July 2009
Just Evil
Its things like this that make my blood boil!
What is wrong with people?! If anyone even attempted to do this to one of my family.....
Its no wonder people are scared of our youths. Other teenagers will tarred with the same brush due to the nasty acts of these little clowns. Could you imagine, someone coming into a restaurant and pouring bleach over you're partner in front of you!
I just dont understand.
What is wrong with people?! If anyone even attempted to do this to one of my family.....
Its no wonder people are scared of our youths. Other teenagers will tarred with the same brush due to the nasty acts of these little clowns. Could you imagine, someone coming into a restaurant and pouring bleach over you're partner in front of you!
I just dont understand.
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