The job sprung to life on the MDT – “Red 2 – Male, Unresponsive”.
This could be anything! Could be someone in a cardiac arrest! Fallen from height! RTC! Overdose! Stabbed! Shot! The endless possibilities were mind bogglingly exciting!
I checked the address . . . “Route 245*, Such-and-such Road”.
Ah, I see. It’ll be a bloke asleep on a bus then . . .
The global overview of my patient the moment I walked in instantly suggested to me he wasn’t dead, dying or even remotely close to seeing a flicker of light at the end of some metaphorical tunnel.
Phew! I thought. Guess I won’t be needing to secure a perimeter for HEMS then.
My patient sat at a table, miserably nursing a tiny graze to his forehead. A pallet of tissue paper had fallen off the back of a lorry and lightly glanced his head on the way down.
My crew mate Matt* and I stood in the kitchen waiting for our Duty Officer to deliver the final decree to the patient sat in the living room.
“. . . and that’s what we’ve decided I’m afraid Dorris**. You will be coming to hospital with us!”
THWACK!!!!
“Oooouch!”
We burst into giggles. In protest to her impending forced removal our patient had decided to express her disdain by belting our Duty Officer on his arm with one of her crutches.
Three and half hours I was on this job. Lovely little lady with classical dementia, who’d had a fall. And after all my investigations and tests I was eventually able to leave her at home with an acceptable “alternative pathway plan”.
But give it its due, this job saw me off bang on time at the end of my night shift. That is, until I closed the front door, locked it and posted the patient’s keys back through the letter box and realised . . .
. . . my coat and car keys were still inside!
“How much further is it?”
The Rail Guard leading us along the track glanced back momentarily, “Quite a way I’m afraid” and as an after thought, “. . . sorry, did you need a hand with your kit?”
“No. I’ll be fine.” I lied.
An ambulance crew caught us up and as we all stumbled along the track in darkness the conversation between them moved inevitably onto the topic-du-jour.
“That’s another two medics handed in their notice on our complex” Continue reading
There are two types of off-duty Doctor we meet in the pre-hospital setting – good genuine helpful ones and . . . not so good and helpful ones.
You see, without wanting to wind up the Doctor profession I think it’s safe to say that with experience comes quiet calming confidence and wisdom. When you meet these guys, they just exude knowledge and skill without even trying. Trust and likeability just radiates from them. Don’t get me wrong, I have met the odd tosser of a Consultant (see http://www.not-on-my-shift.org/2011/09/29/theatres/ . . . But I’m not bitter!).
So, it’s also safe to say, further down the “food chain” it would appear some less experienced doctors can be more egotistical and narcissistic. These are the ones who make you just want to . . . erm, slap them hard. Meet either of these in our world, the pre-hospital setting, and their true personalities really shine forth.
Here’s a couple of stories when I met both types . . .
Never a truer saying was said
