The People We Meet…!

April 30, 2008

Daft o’ clock in the morning and our truck slows down in the drizzling rain. The puddles all around us and the curtained windows of the houses nearby dance to a blue spangly, spingly reflection from our strobes. Its dark, its misty and its wet. Hopefully our “patient” will have gone home already. Looking back at the job on our dashboard mounted data terminal, we check that we are in the right location. We are…but our “patient” doesn’t appear to be!

The call came from a female (third part caller who rarely stay on scene…or give an accurate location) who has said that her boyfriend has an eye injury. Scoping the immediate area we cannot see anybody let alone someone with an eye injury. Suddenly a movement in the corner of my eye alerts me to the possibility of life. Is it human or is it another urban fox of which we have seen four tonight alone!

To our right all we can barely see are buildings shrouded in mist. The orange, energy saving sodium streetlights struggle to penetrate the layers of mist which are rolling in from the nearby river. I,ve read James Herberts “The Fog” and seen the film, so there is no way I,m getting out to search in the darkness! I decide to stay in the cab and man the radio while my crew mate weighs up the idea of doing a quick area search.

Then, just as we were about to contact control for a location check, from the centre of the mist about two hundred metres to our right a movement is noted. Its not clear, everything has that hazy, ethereal look about it. But there definately is movement. And then like something out of a 1970s “Hammer Horror”  film a shape emerges. Ever so slowly the mist swirls around the edges of the shape coming towards us. Eventually the shape becomes a figure, which becomes human, which then becomes a woman.

I let go of my crew mate, and he lets go of me, composing ourselves we sit upright in the cab puffing our chests out instinctively. The shape, the figure, the human, the woman sidles up to my side of the truck and I wind the window down. Looking down at her I notice that she is wearing a wide belt (very short dress) which is of a tiger stripe pattern. She has earrings fashioned out of bones and a necklace to match! She also has a large pair of womanly distractions which are trying to escape from the top of her dress!

I speak first, “Erm hello!”  She replies “Alright. Are you the Ambulance?”

“No. I,m the Paramedic as is my colleague but this truck that we are both sitting in is the Ambulance!” I surprise myself that I am so witty as this time in the morning. I then feel that I have made a bad first impression as she does not smile at my witty reply. There follows a pause of marathon proportions as we wait for the tumbleweed to blow across our front.

“Who have we come for?”  I ask politely just in case this woman really is a cannibal. With her slender arm she points back towards the mist from where she has appeared. “Its my boyfriend, he’s cut his face on the floor after I fell off him!”  This is not going to be a normal job I feel it in my bones…then remember she has lots of bones too!

Our question and answer session is interrupted by a guttural sound emanating from the mist beyond. A grunting noise and scuffling sound can be clearly heard. All of a sudden a group of figures lurch out from the mist. In the centre of the group is a tall male who is being supported by smaller males either side of him. Its only when they get nearer to us that we see what we are dealing with properly.

One tall male, centre, wearing nothing but a pair of flip flops and a loin cloth! With a cut to his left cheek (face). Four smaller males, two either side of tall male, wearing furry feet, caveman costumes and big hair and all sporting plastic clubs! “What the f…!” My crew mate exclaims under his breath. We debus and have a quick shufty at our patient. His cut is not too deep but it needs cleaning and a couple of stitches.

“Come on then, We’ll pop you down to A/E and get you sorted. Is your girlfriend coming too?” I ask. With that all hell breaks loose as the cavemen want to come to hospital also. We bundle Tarzan and Jane into the truck and with scenes reminiscent of Roarke’s Drift in “Zulu” we drive away from the scene with the cavemen batting the side of our vehicle with their puny plastic clubs. We manage to lose them at the next junction.

Inside the truck Tarzan is most apologetic for us being called out. His girlfriend is sat next to him shivering as her dress appears to be getting shorter as the seconds go by! I give them both one of our NHS Ambulance blankets, white, thin, holey for the use of. “You are going to make the nurses and doctors night in A/E”  I tell them both.

And that they both did as they sat in the minor side whilst I booked Tarzan in. All the males in the department checked out Jane whilst all (and I mean all) the females checked out Tarzan! Booked in we waved goodbye to our jungle friends leaving them sat in the middle of a department full of people sporting various cuts, bumps, bruises and wearing blood soaked, vomit stained attire!

A strange end to a strange night shift. But they were a nice couple and the cavemen were a laugh!

Any captions for the pic above?

 


A Little Bit of Culture….

April 19, 2008

This is Scala…Enjoy!

Can anyone tell me the title of the piece and any background on the girls? I first saw them last week on “Britians Got Talent!”  I think they will go far.

 


“Your Chavin’ A Laugh…!”

April 11, 2008

“Two Can Van Damme”

Chavs…we,ve all seen them. We,ve all dealt with them in one way or another. We know their trademarks and habits. The under class of the country at the moment until the next generation evolves into something even worse…if thats possible.

Recently I had occasion to visit a domicile resided in by a charming young chap who had been detained by Her Majesties finest. Upon entering the “home” I was guided to our potential patient/customer/client by the raised voices emanating from the upper echelons of this humble “abode”.

“Fuck off you fucking pig! I,m going to fucking kill you! I,m going to kill the fucking lot of you!”  This was followed very quickly by the usual scuffling sounds and assorted grunts of breathlessness that stems from the owner of the “gob” being grabbed and hand cuffed by the Police and being pinned to the floor.

At this point I had not even seen my patient/customer/client yet. I waited a couple of moments before popping my head around the corner of the door. “How do!”  I made my introduction and was informed by the Police officer knelt down with his knee in the “yoofs” back that the “yoof”  maybe injured from a bike crash.

On first impressions our patient/customer/client seemed fine with no obvious injuries. All the major body systems seemed intact, skeletal system intact due to the amount of force he was trying to exert in throwing a punch whilst having hands handcuffed behind his back. Nervous system intact due to the amount of vitriol emanating from his gob with partially understandable phrases. To cut a long story short he was okay.

This then made him the responsibility of the Police and he was carried off to a waiting Police van for his journey into the night towards a nice warm, cosy Police station. Marvellous.

It was during our brief encounter with this chap in his environment that I noticed little things dotted around his bedroom: the cannabis ready to roll up on the bedside table (a bedside table for a Chav?…how unusual!), the assortment of knives laid out on the top of his television (proper, nasty pointed type of knives not for use in a skilled craftsman capacity), a baseball bat poking out from under the bed (not for use as a recreational past time me thinks!), various posters adorning the walls of ladies in differing states of undress flaunting their ample gravity challenging distractions at me, a quantity of empty Special strength Lager cans casually strewn around the room and a pile of trackie bottoms (alternating double white stripe and triple white stripes which must be for court appearances) and the classic baseball cap in Burberry of course!

This young chap was a real “Two can Van Damme”  as most of them are especially when in a gang. A real hero thinking that he was harder than anyone else. Its at times like these that I wish we could be allowed to release them and challenge their behaviour properly by giving them a right good smacking and stamping on their scrawny little necks. But I know that would not fit in with the Patients Charter and my bosses would probably frown upon such activities. Bugger!

I found this version of Monopoly and recognised each and every square on it!

 


Arty Farty Fun…!

April 11, 2008

Whist perusing the blog world and dropping into other peoples blogs I came across this rather interesting little piece of kit on Rogue Gunners site. Its simple and does exactly was it says on the tin!

“Foxtrot Oscar 1″

Enjoy!


In The Thick Of It…!!!

April 10, 2008

 

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts I feel lucky that in my job I get to meet some pretty amazing characters who have contributed to this nations history. I came across an elderly gentleman the other day who had slipped out his chair at home. I was working a day shift on an RRV and was sent to assess him and stand the crew down if need be.

Not knowing the extent of inury, if any, I took the full kit and caboodle with me into the address. I was initially welcomed by his wife “Thank you Doctor for arriving so quickly!”  I explained that I was a Paramedic and I would check her husband and see what we could do for him. On being led into the living room I was introduced to “Harry” (name changed for confidentiality).

Harry was sat in his armchair and seemed uncomfortable. For someone who was approaching his 84th birthday he looked remarkably fit for his age. Harry cut to the chase and explained that he did not want to go to hospital and all that was wrong was his legs were getting more and more tired easily. A very active chap Harry still danced at the local City Hall and other venues on a weekly basis with his wife.

Medically wise he had no history of trauma or any pre-existing conditions. Apart from a history of “wear & tear” on his back from years of jumping out of planes! Harry explained that he was a former Paratrooper and had seen action during the Second World War. Recently he had been on a 12 hour coach trip which had played havoc with his circulation and caused pain and stiffness in his legs and joints. This he put down as to why his legs were getting tired and the reason he had slipped out of the chair.

After assessing Harry and taking the normal obs I had contacted control and stood the crew down and was advising Harry to be seen by his GP. In these situations I tend to contact the GP myself so I can pass on any observations or concerns first hand. It also ensures that the patient will not get fobbed off as so often happens. A home visit was arranged for around lunch time and whilst I completed the necessary paperwork to leave for the GP I was treated to a perfect cup of tea and some biscuits. (This was turning into a most pleasant shift!)

I asked Harry about his regiment and he went on to say how on D Day his company lost a third of its men and by the third day of the invasion there was only twelve of them left! He had been involved in bitter street fighting with the Germans as his unit had been deployed on the wrong side of the river near to their objective and so had found themselves “in the thick of it! ” Paratroops in the British Army were still relatively new and lots of experimental devices were used for transporting kit. Most of this was attached to the paratrooper whilst jumping. And most of it failed according to Harry!

Harrys wife was amazed at his openness of his exploits around D Day and she said that he had never talked about the war before. So I felt honoured that Harry trusted me to share in his memories. At times he was bitter in retelling some of the horrific events that he saw and even took part in. After the war he met his wife and settled down but kept active as much as possible. The few bad landings from his parachuting days had left him with back problems and limited mobility in his neck but he never let this stop him from doing anything.

Paperwork signed, kit collected and with a firm shake of Harrys hand I left him to await the GP. A very proud man was Harry…and it made me check myself that my life, my job and any problems I had were nothing in the great scheme of things. 

“What manner of men are these who wear the Red Beret?”

 


Ratticus Arsesius

April 5, 2008

Cuddley Furry Friend

The night shift went like all the others…..drunks, fights, vehicle thefts with injuries after crashing, lots of GP admissions where the doctor had not even bothered to turn out and see the patient resulting in inappropriate admissions to A/E, a woman who was quite literally trying to “Bark at the Moon” and a couple of genuine medical emergencies.

It never ceases to amaze me how alcohol dulls the senses and renders all semblence of intelligence inert for the duration. And the experience of drinkers and their friends/family who believe that they can drink vast quantities of alcohol with out collapsing.

Not Emma...she assures me!

The usual statements are:

  • “She/he can hold her/his beer!” “
  • He/she never gets drunk, hes/shes a hardened drinker!”
  • “Her/his drink must have been spiked!”
  • “It must of been something they ate!”
  • “Naw! Hes/shes not drunk much…let me see, hes/shes had twelve pints, eight whiskies I think, a couple of brandies and some cider. Oh and some vodka before we left the house to go out!”

So I found myself trying to tell the husband of a woman who was completely “Ratarsed”  that the reason she had vomitted and was unsteady on her feet was due to the copious amounts of beer/wine/vodka and other assorted shorts that she had consumed.

But he was also ratarsed and I found myself in a scene from “Groundhog Day” repeating myself over and over that his wife can not always drink that amount and remain standing! Even if she is “a big lass!”  He kept on asking and asking over and over again “Whats wrong with her?”  So I told him…”Your wife is suffering from Ratticus Arsesius and will recover in the morning!”

A Real Scary Mary...!

Its one thing drinking and getting drunk but its another when its the sole purpose of a night out! My nights out are starting to consist of a few pints of Guinness, a game of shove ha’penny, a chuck on the arra’s at the battered dart board and a pie & pea supper on the way home. Marvellous!

As opposed to my youthful days down at the local “Discotheque”  strutting my stuff in my bright blue “Oxford Bags”  and having the odd fistcuffs with the kid who “was looking at my bird!”  But it was all good clean fun and the pubs shut at proper times.

But thats another story…..

 


The Shift…!

April 4, 2008
ambulance-dress-uniform-officers.jpg

Boots polished, uniform ironed, kit ready, pack up made, psyched up and ready to go. Suited and booted I,m ready for my next….”Night Shift!”

chavson-street.jpg

What strange manner of person form will I encounter tonight I wonder? And what myriad of ills, ailments and trauma will I come across?

I will let you know….when I,ve woken up tomorrow afternoon….

night.jpg

“Nights!”

Don’t you just love em’?


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