“Urgent police please” – a Section 136

We have a coded phrase in the LAS, that when spoken on priority or on open mic, will alert whoever is listening that urgent police are required and needed on the hurry up!  It’s used so that attackers don’t obviously know you are calling for help.  Unfortunately, not everyone in the LAS knows about this.
Just so there is continued secrecy to that phrase I have used the phrase, VECTOR VECTOR instead . . . as it’s equally as stupid as the real one.

As the woman sat on the floor screaming, the two men set about beating her again.  This time, I acted instinctively – I’d had enough.  And, rushing forward I placed myself between the screaming woman and the two men.

“Get back!”  I pushed them back a step or two and pressed priority on my radio – nothing.

The two men charged at the same time, one brandishing a walking crutch above his head as if to strike.  This time, with instinct, I open-hand pushed both men away in their faces, pushing one to the floor.

“Get BACK!!!” I shouted and again pressed priority on my radio – nothing again!

I was now consciously aware of the ludicrousness of the situation.  Here I was, maintaining a heroic side ward stance, one hand outstretched to the two men stood, poised ready to pounce either side of me.  Whilst my other hand was outstretched to the woman sat cowering behind me on the floor.  Some might of suggested this was the epitome of chivalry and heroism, like a Mexican standoff . . . but really, this was nothing more than a ridiculous end to a pathetic situation which I really wish I’d never been sent to in the first place!

Mexican standoff - LAS style Continue reading

Teaching an old dog new tricks . . .

Over the police radio we could hear carnage and mayhem.  Someone, somewhere, was being stabbed.  Multiple times.  And it was happening right now.

Over the top of police shouting for urgent assistance, were the screams of anguish, pain and despair.

As I buckled up, I nodded at Terry*, who was in the driver’s seat, “Right!  Terry, ready?  Let’s go!”.

Terry was brand new to our Unit and tonight was his first ever JRU shift.  Terry nodded back and started the engine! . . .

pic courtesy of @GingerMedic999 Continue reading

Congratulations! Your patient survived.

I opened my work tray the other day to find an envelope.  Inside was a letter.  A standard letter suggesting with all integrity that I (amongst others) had managed NOT to kill someone.

there's other stuff written on it tooNow, these letters don’t come often, but they do come.  In fact, I have a few now.  And I wager that anyone working in the job long enough will end up receiving at least one at some point.

I remember the job too . . . well, by process of elimination it’d be hard not to.  Of the five cardiac arrests I’ve done this year so far, only one of them wasn’t called on scene! Continue reading

Advice for students wanting to become a Paramedic

Over time, various folk have contacted me asking for advice on starting their career as a Paramedic.  I always find this odd.  I would have thought by my mad ramblings laid down in previous blogs, it was obvious that I’m a bumbling, kak-handed, accident prone disaster movie just waiting to happen.  Why on earth folk would expect me to be able to dish out sound advice is beyond comprehension.

However, advice people have asked for and advice has been given.  I’m never too sure it was the sort of advice folk wanted but I gave it a go.  Anyway, someone recently suggested it a good idea to write a blog on it – so I have.  But only a short one.  With not much advice.  More a statement.  Or a warning.  You decide . . .

Your "insert relevant country/county of orgin here" Ambulance Service needs you Continue reading

See you on the next job

Young-drunk-man-in-a-suit continued to hold his cracked, soon-to-be-dead phone up to my face.  In his drunken sway, with eyes barely focussed, his demeanour switched suddenly from startlingly desperate to that of a damp and pathetic dog.

“You see . . .” he snivelled, “I love her.  I know I’ve only known her for one date, but, she’s . . . she’s . . . I love her -”

And, before I could Judo-chop myself away to safety, young-drunk-man-in-a-suit flopped his head forward onto my chest and started to cry.

With hundreds of drunken revellers staggering about me in various states of inebriation, I continued to stand there, handset radio held to my ear waiting for a response from the police . . .

his cracked, soon-to-be-dead phone up to my face Continue reading