(Cue wobbly flashback video effects)
I was working in A&E at the time of the eclipse and thought that there would be no way I’d get to see it. Like all A&E departments this place had no windows and could be perhaps best described as a bunker. Today, however, the department was empty for the first time in living memory. Normally by that time of the day we would be packed full, but today … not a soul. One person had been in earlier with a painful foot, but there wasn’t the normal ‘trolleys in the corridor’ effect that was normal for that time of day.
We learned that day that CT (computed tomography) films make excellent sunglasses.
So, the whole department stood outside on the grass staring at the sun slowly disappearing – very spooky, and one of the few strong memories I have from that long ago. I suspect that many of the wards were empty as well: there was a procession of people wearing dressing gowns and holding tight to their drip stands wandering around the hospital grounds.
As soon as the eclipse finished we immediately had two cardiac arrests brought in by ambulance, it was as if they had waited until after the eclipse before deciding to keel over dead …
Life also tends to be a bit quiet around FA cup finals, royal marriages and important soap storylines.
I often carry a camera around with me. I was talking to some kids recently – they were happy little buggers, enjoying the sunshine on a lazy Sunday.
It’s not all bad this job.
This picture still makes me smile.
Some calls are a pain in the arse, not because anyone is particularly ill, but instead because you can see complaints coming in, and there being a high possibility of losing your job.
Tonight was a case in point. We got called to a wedding reception where the bride had collapsed; a quick history revealed MS (multiple sclerosis), and that it was likely that this was the cause of the collapse. Unfortunately, the patient and the patient’s new husband were adamant that she wasn’t going to go to hospital, particularly the hospital that was nearest. Things were not helped because they had called an ambulance for an aunt who had collapsed, but had cancelled it before it had arrived because it was ‘taking too long’.
While we were getting a history from the patient, the new husband was generally acting like an arse: he was questioning everything that we did, interfering with our talking to the patient and generally getting in the way. We managed to get rid of him for a short period and the rest of the family came over to us and apologised for his behaviour.
Luckily, the patient’s hotel was next door to the hospital so, after 45 minutes of persuasion, I managed to get the patient to agree for us to take her towards the hotel, and if she felt better then we could, in good conscience, leave her there. En route I called up on the radio, and arranged for the Duty Officer to meet us at the hotel. He did and the responsibility of leaving her without treatment now fell on his shoulders (thus, saving our jobs should anything go horribly wrong).
I know MS is a horrible disease. I know it isn’t fair that it would strike on your wedding day, and I can understand why you might not want to go to hospital … but if you can’t move half of your body, then please understand why the ambulance people might be a bit unhappy to leave you lying in the middle of the street.
It then all kicked off in the Hackney/Homerton area. There was a big fight in a pub, with everything in it being smashed – multiple casualties with various head and facial injuries from flying bottles and broken glass. We were first on scene, and I needed to call up to let Control know that at least another 3 ambulances were needed. At least it gave me a chance to practise my ‘5-second triage’ skills. None of the drunks there were particularly aggressive, but there was a ton of police there pulling me from one casualty to another around the pub, and even 300 yards up the street. This was just a taste of what was to come as another pub was attacked and it basically overloaded our resources. It got so busy that our Duty Officer was transporting severe asthmatic attacks in his car (and he doesn’t carry much more than a defibrillator and oxygen) and Control was holding 35 calls across the area. That is, 35 calls at 3 o’clock in the morning. That’ll teach me to wonder if it will be busy in a previous post.
Tomorrow England play their first ‘Euro 2004’ match – Alcohol + Patriotism + Recent History (we are playing the French) + Me Working = Recipe for Disaster
Watch this space …
I never got a complaint from that job, although for some time I was holding my breath about it.
Well it looks like I was right, the nice weather with people in the pubs from an early hour, coupled with England losing 2–1 in the football, has led to what can, in best tabloid fashion, be described as ‘an orgy of violence’.
It started out with a couple of ‘glassings’, which we have been getting over our vehicle computer screens as ‘stabbing to the head’ for some reason.
A couple more assaults, including one who was set upon by a number of drunks who were intent on stealing his car. Luckily he was not too badly injured – more shook up. Other crews were ‘blueing’ in a number of assaults, including at least one stab victim.
The police were running from call to call, and once more there are not enough ambulances to deal with the large number of calls we have been receiving. Our Duty Officer has been telling crews that we should be wearing our stab-vests constantly – but he isn’t the one who has to lug a 20-stone unconscious patient down 4 flights of stairs in this heat …
Good job I’m not searching for a quiet life.
I am, however, off to bed now.
For the first night in ages it has been reasonably quiet on the streets of East London – only one stabbing and that was to the patient’s arse …
However, while adults are no doubt nursing hangovers the children are out causing mischief. The first two calls we got yesterday were to kids (8 and 10 years old) who had been hit by cars. The first was a ‘classic’: child running out towards an ice-cream van. He was alright apart from a broken right ankle. No sooner than he was safely ensconced in hospital than we find ourselves dealing with a child who has run out in front of a car (in the absence of an ice-cream van) and has broken his left ankle.
Tie in a hyperventilating adult, a 14-year-old with hay-fever and a drunken Colles’ fracture and you have a pretty good night.
We had one serious job, someone who had a CVA (a CVA is a ‘stroke’) on a train. The CVA wasn’t so much the problem as the extrication of the patient, who couldn’t move, and yet was combative with his unaffected side. To start off, the space between the seats on the train was not large enough to allow our carry-chair to pass. The man was large and heavy so we basically had to manhandle him (in a very undignified manner) through some connecting doors and out onto the platform. The train station has a big flight of stairs towards street-level and only one lift, and the lift was not on the platform we were on. It would have been unsafe to carry this man up the stairs because of his weight and combativeness. In a rare spark of genius I realised that if we waited for a district line train we could