Well, that was a bit quieter than was expected…by ourselves as well as pretty much the entire city.
South Wales police reported that it was quieter last Friday than a normal Friday night. The ambulance crews in the Millenium Staduim drank lots of coffee and dealt with the few incidents we were called to – we only had 3 jobs on our vehicle all night.
I got called last night while in Cardiff to work an ambulance shift for Mid Glam. The highlight of the shift until midnight was the free hot mince pies with cream we were so kindly served by the staff in the canteen at the hospital. Nomnom. We managed to finish them off before we were called onto the one job of the night.
This is of course, a Good Thing. People were sensible and remained uninjured. Hooray.
Let’s see what the rest of my shifts bring this Christmas.
Today is Black Friday.
Most people won’t know and won’t care what that means, but if you work in or volunteer with the emergency services and you’re on duty tonight – you’re probably either sleeping in preparation or getting your stuff ready.
Black Friday is traditionally the last Friday before Christmas. It’s the day that large numbers of people organise to have a drink together before Christmas…and as a result, Cardiff alone will see 300,000 revellers partying tonight. It’s an incredibly busy night for the emergency services, busier even than New Year’s Eve.
So, what am I doing tonight? After working my day job, I’m on duty (as a volunteer) with St John tonight who have been asked to provide the Welsh Ambulance Service with assistance in Cardiff. We have around 10 extra ambulances on duty; we’re helping to staff the triage centers both in St Mary Street and in the Millenium Stadium. I suspect we’ll see everything from broken nails to alcohol poisoning and assaults, as well as the normal numbers of cardiac arrests and the usual calls because life goes on. I suspect we’ll get more RTC’s tonight because it’s cold and icy and it’s also going to be busy.
And Oh My God but it’ll be cold tonight. The MetOffice is reporting a low of -3 Celsius tonight, down from the dizzy heights of +2 Celsius, with wind speeds dying down from 23mph to 5mph (giving “wind chill” temperatures of around -6 Celsius). That means freezing roads and crashing cars. It means freezing pavements and falling drunk people. It means cold air and hypothermia in partygoers wearing very little. That “beer jacket” that keeps you warm when you’re drunk? It doesn’t – it just stops you from feeling the cold. It could kill you on a night like this.
So tonight we’ll be busy. Tonight we’ll be picking up, helping, trying not to get assaulted and trying to keep warm. I’ll be tweeting and possibly updating the blog where I can, you can follow me on twitter if you’d like: www.twitter.com/thinknuts
Stay safe!
Back in October of last year, I applied to join South Wales Police as a special constable. Thigns kinda came to a grinding halt over Christmas when the process stopped. It dragged on for a few months and the rumour I had from friends in the force was that all recruitment was on a hold for the time being.
I sat down and re-assesed my options, talking to Sean. I felt as though I was still missing something and Sean was still happy with me doing somethign in addition to Mountain Rescue. I’ve always enjoyed the medical side of Mountain Rescue and I really missed dealing with patients as I used to in the First Responders. So, what could I do?
Enter St John Ambulance. I called national headquarters, based in Cardiff and was referred to Father Andrew, the Divisional Officer In Charge (DOIC) of Cardiff Central. After a long conversation with him, it sounded like I’d hit on the perfect unit – they perform mainly front-line ambulance duties and don’t have a cadet contingent which mean the unit concentrates on training and duties for their adult members.
The first night set the tone really – they’re mostly insane, much like Mountain Rescue. I passed them all the information I could about the training I had complete with Mountain Rescue. Things were looking great…and then a letter came through the door.
South Wales Police had started up its recruitment again. This caused a bit of a dilemma – leave St John and concentrate on the Police? Stop the recruitment process with the police? What to do?
I carried on with both (well, all three including Mountain Rescue) for a while, but this really wasn’t sustainable. Coupled with the fact that I had changed jobs and was considerably busier than I used to be, something had to change. So, after a long conversation with Sean, I decided to withdraw my application to South Wales Police for now. It’s something I’d still like to do, but I’m limited in how much time I have in life – I do like to sleep occasionally!
Last weekend, I passed the 7th course I’d taken in 5 weeks. It’s been a hectic month, but passing my PTA course now means that I can go out with St John Ambulance to do what’s called HDS duties (High Dependency Service) – these are thigns like Doctor’s urgents (when a patient needs to go to hospital urgently but isn’t life-threatening enough to call 999) and hospital transfers. I’m also one of our division’s two drivers currently – so looks like I’m going to be kept busy driving a lot.
On Thursday my uniform arrived – that’s right, look out for me wandering the streets of Cardiff in a natty green uniform. In fact, my first duty is this Saturday, when I’m joining two experienced members for my first HDS duty.
So, er, yeah, that’s where I am, that’s why I haven’t been blogging much of late. Work is taking me to London again this week which means I won’t (again) attend Mountain Rescue on Thursday. Look out for updates on the weekend from the HDS duty, as well as a whole bunch of rants and other stuff I’ve got queued up ready to post.
Tally ho!
Tags: Ambulance, hds, Mountain Rescue, police, sean, St John
So I forgot I hadn’t posted this. Oops.
We left Todi and had a mammoth drive through Italy, Switzerland and France. It was slated to be 10 hours of driving, but things didn’t go to plan.
Leaving Todi, we hit Italian rush hour which was a bit interesting and I had to concentrate hard to avoid the other cars. It felt like the worst of London driving. We made it to Florence quite quickly though where we’d planned a quick stop to post some postcards that we’d not managed to get stamps for. Well, that was the plan. Our detour into Florence took an hour, going through some beautiful sights and via the main sorting office (that doesn’t sell stamps). Eventually, I dropped Sean off next to the main train station and kept running circles around the block until he came back. Turns out the train station sells stamps…
The weather closed in on us at this point, with heavy rain following us up all the way to Milan. Far from being an interesting and fun drive, this was a hard slog. It wasn’t until we started up into the mountains that the rain eased off a little, but we rapidly hit the clouds and so our progress was slowed down once more. We were aiming for the Gottard tunnel and after weaving my way around queues of lorries, we finally got there.
The tunnel is, I’m sure, a feat of engineering. I certainly appreciated it for that. The drive, though, is boring. It’s a tunnel. Think of the Limehouse link, only 15 miles long and you’re pretty much there. There is, however, a radio station broadcasting inside the tunnel with emergency information, which I thought was quite nifty, though it’s not signposted well enough for someone driving along the motorway.
We came out of the Gottard tunnel and started the journey towards France. It felt like we were past the crux now…which was the wrong feeling, since about 10 minutes north of the tunnel, we hit a traffic jam. There was traffic as far as the eye could see and it was all stationary. After sitting there for a few minutes I turned the engine off, as did everyone else. Within minutes, the road was packed solid in both directions and we settled down for a long wait, with no idea what was going on. Luckily, we’d packed some food for the journey, so we had somethign to eat. It was quite surreal – high in the Swiss mountains, in a picturesque valley with chalets all around us….and cows. Now, I though the Swiss cow bell was a cute little tourist trinket. Turns out, they actually use them. So we’re sat there with a herd of cows next to us, all of which wear bells. Who knew – after a while, that noise gets intensely irritating.
Eventually, after about two hours of delay we got going again – the road narrowed ahead due to roadworks and just at the entrance were some fresh skidmarks and broken glass by the side of the road – which answered the question of what was going on.
By this point the journey wasn’t so much fun as “let’s just get there”. We were both ready to go home and it was only necessity that made us stop in some services just inside Switzerland near the French border. We were starving and needed something, even if it was service-station sandwiches. What we got was just incredible.
We walked in and looked around, getting our bearings. To our right was the restaurant which, at ten o’clock local time, I was expecting to be closed – but it wasn’t. We shrugged and wandered over, before being assaulted by an incredible array of sights and aromas. They had a number of areas, each selling a different kind of freshly cooked food. We looked on in amazement and chose Chicken Cordon Bleu which they cooked in front of us. It wasn’t a five star restaurant, but it was certainly something that Little Chef and Moto could learn from. It sure as hell was not Burger King or McDonalds.
We set off again and got to the hotel just around midnight, having had to call them en route to find out why they weren’t where TomTom said they should be – turns out this is a common problem and her first question was “Do you have satellite navigation?”. She gave us directions from there to a village with the same name as the street we were on about 2 miles away. Reception had closed down for the night when we arrived – this was a small local hotel and our keys were waiting for us on a piece of paper with my name badly mis-spelt.
Thursday morning, a quick breakfast after not enough sleep and we set off again, determined to have a better day. The weather agreed and after some patchy showers, opened up into a beautiful if slightly windy day. We make great progress through the French motorways and hit Calais almost 2 hours earlier than our ferry. A quick stop in a supermarket to take advantage of the cheap diesel and we drove down to the terminal. Without blinking we got put on the next possible ferry leaving in about 30 minutes and we mooched around for a bit admiring the drugs dogs at work. We even managed to get BBC Kent on the radio. We both smiled – I think we were both glad to be going home at this point.
We had a lovely dinner on the ferry – we stood outside Langan’s Brasserie for a bit before threw caution to the wind and decided to end the holiday in style with steaks on the way home. Very nice indeed, as was the creme brulee and, by this time, it was nice to have English accents around us.
It was getting dark by the time we got to Dover and with a reminder from TomTom to drive on the left again, we were back on British soil. Not quite home yet though – we drove to Slough where I met up with some of my work colleagues for a conference the following day. I was far mroe tired than I expected and on Friday, by lunchtime, I was falling asleep in the comfort of the conference and decided that I wasn’t doing any good here. I took off, met up with Sean in Leicester Square for some lunch and we drove home.
We both had an absolutely awesome time and certainly clocked up some miles. I’d like to do something similar again, though in a more comfortable car and with more time to spend in each place. Brussels was lovely and we want to go back there. We never really saw Zurich, and Strasbourg was a lovely surprise. I’m not sure I’d want to drive in Italy again – the other drivers make it very stressful. We’re already putting ideas together as to our next one, suggestions so far include the UK, north or eastern Europe and the USA/Canada.
I’ve always said that the marque of a good holiday is when, halfway through, you realise that you have no idea what day it is. What the date is, what day of the week it is, how far into your holiday you are. When you’ve reached that point you’ve relaxed completely – you’re no longer tied into the weekly grind.
It’s actually day 12 today – I had to count that on the calendar! Staying in Todi has been fantastic for the both of us. The house we’re staying in is incredibly relaxing with fabulous views and peace and quiet abound. We’ve mostly read books, hung around the house and the swimming pool, had a bit of a walk and driven to town for dinner or grocery shopping once or twice. We’ve slept without alarm clocks waking us up. I feel more alive and refreshed than I have done for a long time. I do feel a little regret for not spending more time exploring the surrounds, but we needed the break to be honest. Besides, we’ve been invited back again next year – I don’t think we’ll drive next time.
We’re staying here with John (Sean’s Dad) and Sophie (his wife). They happened to have two friends staying at the same time (Bill and Sue) which wasn’t a problem – the house is a 3-bed Tuscan villa with a large living and dining room. So evening meals have been a mix – John cooked spaghetti bolognese one night and Bill and Sue cooked another night. So a few days ago, Sean and I announced that we’d cook – spaghetti carbonara. So we prepared, we got a recipe – it didn’t seem too difficult. We then had a bit of a spanner in the works with concerns over the eggs – you mix the spaghetti into the raw eggs and they kinda cook from the heat. So we moved on from carbonara and Sean and I scoured the internet and decided to stick with an Italian staple – Lasagne.
To be fair, I’ve made lasagne before, but only with the help of Mr. Ragu and Mr. Dolmio. This recipe called for making the ragu (the meat/tomato sauce) from fresh as well as the white sauce (actually a bechamel sauce). So, when we got the ingredients, we never realised how much of an epic it would be. We started cooking at just before 7pm and finally served a huge lasagne to serve 6-8 at 9pm – and we cut out quite a lot of the time the ragu is supposed to cook for! It was, however, an absolute resounding success. I served full plates for everyone and had plenty left over…until everyone asked for seconds. I don’t think I’ve ever had a meal go down quite so well. I also learned how to make a bechamel sauce – here’s a hint folks: make sure you have a whisk before you start. Doing it with a fork is bloody hard work.
So today is our last full day in Todi. We’re packing the car tonight for an 8am departure tomorrow. We’ve found a little hotel just south of Strasbourg which means we have some 8 hours of driving to do tomorrow (not including rest stops). Thursday night we have a ferry crossing to Dover and we’ll be in London for Friday where I have a work event. We had plans for the weekend but having experienced a long day’s driving on the way here, we decided to try and leave the weekend to recover and catch up on household chores – we’ve got almost a full suitcase of laundry! I think we’re both actually looking forward to going home now – to more familiar surroundings where shopping isn’t quite so much of an adventure and you can recognise “beef stock” (and not “beef soup”)!
We woke up fairly early in Grenoble and had some breakfast before heading off – we did find out that she hadn’t waived all the charges, just given us a credit towards our room of the amount we’d already paid – the night we stayed was some €20 more than our original room. Still, better than no credit at all.
It was a pretty long journey down to Marseilles, mostly on motorways. The terrain got progressively more yellow as we went, the trees and buildings becoming more meditaranean and the temperature rising. We found ourselves stopping for water a few times.
Driving in Marseilles was a nightmare and the route in to the city showed it to be a rough, industrial port. I’m sure there are nice areas of the city for tourists to see during the day, but having been through so many beautiful places, we decided to grab a quick sandwich and a drink in a little patisserie before getting back on the road.
It was a few more hours before we finally arrived at Aups having spent the last half hour or so travelling on smaller, provincial roads through some of the stunning Provence countryside. Aups is a beautiful small town which brought to mind memories of French towns from black and white wartime films. I fully expected to see a crowd of French resistance slinking around a corner away from a couple of German generals – my first impression wasn’t helped by the fact that as we got out of the car, an air raid siren sounded. Apparently it’s used to call the local fire brigade out…
We wandered around a little before meeting up with Sean’s cousin and headed over to their house – a beautiful little cottage. We spent a day and two nights here, just chilling out getting to know Eve and Patricio and the kids, Ishmael and Irene. We ate good food, drank good wine and beer and swam in a nearby lake.
Day 7 was yesterday, Thursday 10th, and we woke up early and got ready to leave. We had a long day of driving ahead of us and after saying goodbye to everyone, we packed the car and hit the road. By 10am the overhead signs were telling us it was 27 deg C and we soon stopped for a break on the mountains above Monaco. We hastily grabbed a few photos and took off again. The principle behind building this Italian road seems to have been to pick a point between the bottom of the valleys and the tops of the ridges and build a road along that line, building tunnels and bridges as necessary.
It was a long, long drive down to Todi and the roads got worse and worse as we went before finally ending on the dirt track that served as an access road to the villa. It had been a long day and it wasn’t long before we were crashing out on the sofa watching the sunset.
This morning we woke up to this view (picture to follow) from the balcony of our bedroom. I’m actually sat on the bed taking that one. It’s an incredible place here and we’re loving just chilling out and relaxing and NOT driving. We popped briefly into Todi today to do some shopping and pottered around before heading back and spending a lazy afternoon just chatting. I’m sat on the terrace writing this with the sun slowly falling towards the distant mountains and Sean playing on the guitar behind me. I’ve not had a watch or mobile on me today. It’s been magic. My biggest dilemma is currently whether I pop down to the swimming pool for a quick swim before dinner. I could get used to this.
Miles travelled: 1855
Our route so far (Google maps)
Waking up on Sunday in Luxembourg, the weather was overcast with low cloud, so we dressed up warm and headed into the center of the old town. Stopping outside the cathedral we took a few pictures but couldn’t head in as it was closing. We pottered around the shops for a bit with the cathedral’s bells ringing across the city and picked up a little breakfast before finally heading south, back on the road again.
It was a long slog down to Strasbourg with both of us quite tired. We pulled in and headed to the tourist inforation center in the main station. The station itself was incredible – they’ve built a glass lozenge over the old station which protects it. Modern meets traditional. From there we walked over to Petit France for lunch. This is the older part of Strasbourg and is absolutely stunning. We walked around, had some lunch and listened to a bagpipe player (he must be very lost) for a bit before getting back on the road again.
Next stop was Zurich although by this time we were exhausted. We looked at our options and realised that with a long day of travelling ahead, exploring the city was likely out of the question. We had a fantastic night in a very upmarket Holiday Inn before getting back on the road in the morning.
As we headed through Switzerland, the terrain changed from the soft undulating hills to steep, craggy mountains with near-vertically sided valleys. The scenery kept surprising us and we climbed up from Martigny and crossed the Swiss/French border somewhere high in the pass before dropping down into Chamonix. We decided to grab some time here and took the Montenvers train to the Mer-de-Glace Glacier. It was an awesome sight and we even got to walk inside the Glacier where they’d dug out a “grotto” and sculpted the ice.
It was probably gone 5pm before we left for the short drive to Grenoble and this is where we got unstuck. In booking all of the hotels before we left, I’d managed to book the Grenoble hotel for the Sunday night instead of the Monday night. Expecting to pay for another night, we dragged ourselves into the hotel and had a wonderful surprise when the woman on reception convinced her manager to waive any charges and just let us have the room tonight. Fab ending to an incredible day.
I’ve uploaded some photos to flickr already – there’s more to come when I have time and a decent Internet connection.
Miles so far: 1,163
Well, we’re on holiday. Leaving was a bit of a disaster to be honest – when I left the office part of the M4 was closed. I had to work my way home through small lanes and didn’t get back to the house until 1900 – we’d hoped to be on the road by then. A few problems with the alarm were fairly quickly sorted and before 2000 the car was packed and we were off. So far, I don’t think we’ve forgotten anything critical…
We stopped off with a friend in London for the night before getting up for an early start and heading down to Folkestone for our 0950 departure on the Eurotunnel. 35 minutes of train and we were in France – it’s pretty impressive on the convenience front, even if it’s boring: you sit in your car for 35 minutes of tunnel. Still, we were in Calais.
We quickly headed onto the motorway and headed across northern France over to Belgium. Nothing particularly exciting about the drive – it was over land that was quite flat, lots of agriculture. I was munching on a piece of M&S cocktail sausage when it went down the wrong way and spent the next 10 minutes coughing, so we pulled into a service station for a break. No sooner had we stopped than a wasp flew into the car – Sean whacked it with a cloth and flung it straight at me, where it stung me on the neck.
Once I’d finished swearing and Sean had finished apologising, we got ourselves sorted. Apparently, you have to pay 30c to go to the loo in service stations around here. That was a bit of a pain since we hadn’t stopped at a cashpoint yet…
Anyway, we got to Brussels with no idea where we were going and asked TomTom to take us to a car park in the center of town. A nearby Novotel pointed us to the tourist information center in the Grande Place….whereupon we walked into the middle of a huge beer festival. Of course, we were driving, so couldn’t take part much to my disappointment. After pottering around for a bit, we had a Belgian Waffle (what else would you eat in Belgium?) and wandered around taking photos before heading back to the car. We drove around a few of the sights before heading back out on the motorway. I’d love to come back here, it’s a beautiful city with lots to see.
The drive to Luxembourg was more scenic, crossing valleys although by the time we got there we were both exhausted – we’d not had much sleep the night before. So after a bit of food, we headed straight to bed.
Miles so far: 513
I haven’t been on a decent holiday abroad since…well, since I bought the house. That may be a coincidence…
Anyway, Sean and I have been planning a trip to Italy for a few months now and it’s almost here. Tomorrow afternoon, I leave work and drive to Cardiff to pick Sean up. The next time we’ll see the house, we’ll have drive through Belgium, Luxembourg, France, a bit of Germany, Switzerland and Italy.
I am, understandably, somewhat excited. Internet access has been sorted despite Vodafone being useless – thankfully, 3 are targetting users wanting some decent data rates at the moment, so I have a 3 SIM in my laptop’s built-in 3G card. It’s PAYG so I won’t come home to a £300 phone bill and it means that I can keep a record of the trip on my blog.
I’m just waiting for clothes to dry now and hoping the weather will last…
Update: Track my travels on Dopplr
I can’t remember my first Mountain Rescue job. I remember a search for a missing person while I was still training, but it’s lost in a blur of memories of trying to work out how to search for a missing person. I remember my first casualty, having chased her over the mountain all night, giving her the attention she so desperately seeked.
What is etched into my memory are two ambulance jobs I did as a first responder – my first red call, and my first cardiac arrest.
The first red call I had came in the middle of the night. I’d gone to bed, my uniform next to me, the phone on the bedstand and the lava lamp left on, casting a red glow over the bedroom. I jumped out of my skin when the phone rang.
“Hiya, it’s Ambulance control, can you take a red call please?”
I get the address and jump into my clothes, heart pumping, adrenaline rushing around my body. Still half-asleep yet completely awake, I drive off. 30 year old male, difficulty in breathing. Traffic is quiet, I catch the lights on green and I’m driving down the street looking for the address when I see the ambulance. Deflated, I realise I’ve been holding my breath and start breathing normally again.
I pull up and get out, gloves on, ready to assist, just in case – but the crew is stood in the doorway talking to the patient. I walk over and hear the conversation.
“So you’ve had the sore throat for 3 days, and it’s hurting when you swallow…” He turns and glances at me, nodding, acknowledging my presence. “…and the GP says it’s tonsilitis. Does your mother have a car? Right, well she can take you down to A&E if you really want then, but it’s a Friday night, you’re looking at 4 hours of wait. We’re very busy tonight – if you can do that we can get back to helping people who are seriously ill, like heart attacks.”
I catch the undertones, the patient doesn’t. Within minutes I’m filling in my paperwork. The crew watches me, I’m obviously not familiar with the layout.
“First job?” he asks. I nod.
“That was irritating.” I nod towards the house. “Tonsilitis?” I’ve just about managed to get my hand to steady enough to write. I’m not sure anyone’s going to understand what I’ve written.
The technician rolls his eyes. “Get used to it. About one in ten jobs actually need us, five are pissed the other four are hypochondriacs or timewasters.” There’s a shout from the cab interrupting the cynical view of the world I’ve just become privy to. “We’re off. See you later.”
The ambulance rolls away and I’m left in the street dealing with the disappointment, the adrenaline, the futility, the tiredness. I turn around and head back to bed.
My first cardiac arrest came as a surprise. I’d been responding for months, now used to the dross and inability to actually help a lot of the patients – my Mountain Rescue medical training gave me skills and knowledge that I could not use with the Ambulance service – not in our protocols. I was in the kitchen when the phone rang – around 9am on a Saturday morning. I grabbed a pen as I answered the phone, looking around for a piece of paper and only finding the whiteboard on the wall.
“Hi, got a red call for you.”
I write the address down on the calendar, and write “card arrest” next to it. I blinked. I read the address again. “Er…that’s about 500 yards from where I…from my current location. Show me mobile – count to 10 and show me on scene if you want, I won’t bother calling to report that.” I’m already out the door unlocking the car.
“Oh, ok, thanks.”
Control rings off and I briefly consider running there, but with all the kit….I start the car and drive down the road, turning the corner and pulling up at the pub control had sent me to. The door is closed, I see no way in. I have my kit with me, I’ve not had a chance to calm myself down in the car, my heart is pumping and there’s no way in! I head for the side door and it’s open – I run up the steps, tripping on the top one and almost flying headlong through the door. I blink as I stumble into the gloom, the curtains drawn and I see figures by the bar – the landlord is on the phone.
“Yes, he’s here now…”
I rush over – there’s a woman on the floor, late 50’s I’d say. I rip my kit open, defib out and lid open, get it up and running. Tuffcut shears make short work of the underwire in her bra – I hadn’t intended to cut it, but it’s off now along with her blouse. My mind is racing, and the defib shouts at me in an American voice. “Tear open pads. Remove pads and place on chest.” I’ve already done that and it’s curtly announcing “Analysing rhythm” as I’m getting my Guedel airway out, oxygen fitted with the BVM.
“Start CPR.”
I swear under my breath – it’s not shockable. I don’t even consider whether I should start CPR – I’m already underway now and I have no room in my protocol for recognition of life extinct. The airway is in – easier than the dummies I’ve practiced on. I put my hands on her warm skin and start compressions. As I’m counting my only thought is that the feeling of my hands on her skin reminds me of chicken. It’s an odd thought and I place it to one side, giving two breaths after 30 compressions. I hear a rib crack and then a second one. I have a rare moment where my brain can catch up and in that moment I get a thought – I can’t hear a siren yet, where’s my backup?
“Do not move patient, analysing rhythm.” The defib interrupts me and I sit back for a moment catching my breath. “Continue CPR.”
My hopes for a succesful rescuscitation are dropping and they hit rock bottom when the landlord opens a curtain to get me more light – I can see what looks like a bruise on part of her body – but at last! I hear a siren approaching. I tell the landlord to go out and windmill for the paramedic, probably an RRV I think.
I look up as he walks in, it’s a friend of mine. He grimaces as he sees her and recognises signs I’ve yet to learn.
“You can stop CPR mate, she’s long gone.” he says quietly, kneeling down and pointing out the purple blotches I’d seen. “Post mortem staining, she’s been down a while.” I sit back on my knees, shaking a little from the adrenaline. He takes over, he’s seen this all before. I can’t stop staring at her, the memory of those two ribs cracking under my hands still vivid.
The police arrive and talk to me and the Paramedic. He asks if I’m OK. I just nod and fill in my paperwork. I pack up my kit – I need a new set of pads and contact an Ambulance officer to get a set and he arranges to meet me that day. I stand outside, packing my car for the moment, stood in the bright sunshine as villagers wander past wondering what’s happening – why all the police and ambulance. I head back inside and take one last look before talking to the Paramedic. No, no chance of reviving her. She’d been down a while. Probably a massive heart attack, probably dead before she hit the floor. How old? 42. Yeah, she looked older. Smoked. He makes sure I’m ok and I head off to get some new defib pads, still shocked by how surreal it all feels. When I finally get back to the house, there’s still a note on the whiteboard with the address and “card arrest” next to it. I wipe it off as I phone control to tell them I’m available for calls again.
Prepared as my introductory post for The EMS Handover Carnival.
Tags: Ambulance, cardiac arrest, death, First Responders, heart attack, job