Watching

The car is on its roof, having collided with another vehicle and gone off the road, onto a tree. Three youngsters are lying on the ground around the car, one trapped by his legs, all shouting out, but it is the fourth that holds all our attention. He is quiet and almost still, perhaps a flicker of one arm, trapped by the wreckage and the tree.

We can't get to him. His left arm is accessible, and a paramedic has already cannulated him. His head is pressed against the door, and we can't get to his airway. The dashboard has come forward, and is tight against his chest. We watch his chest rise and fall, slower and slower. There is no way to get him out. We will need to roll the car over if we have any chance at all to extricate him, and we can't do that at the moment, because of the chap whose legs are still entwined in the wreckage.

There is nothing we can do, except watch.

His breathing slows.

Stops.

Challenge

I told one of my best friends that I was planning to do the Brands Hatch Cyclothon in September.  After he picked himself up off the floor, he explained the humour of the situation.  You see, Brands Hatch is not the flattest of race-tracks.  In fact, it's rather hilly.  My friend showed me a youtube video of the track.  It's very scary.

And now he's thrown me a challenge: get round the track once without getting off my bike, and he will donate £100 towards BASICS.  That seems worth it.  Not so bad, really.  I accepted the challenge, and went out on my bike to find some suitable hills to ride up.  I found one.  I couldn't get up it.  Hmmm.  Think I need some more practice.

Avoidance

It's late, as usual.  I am on my way back home, after having been called in for a paediatric trauma - the patient, a 13 year old boy, was bigger than me, and virtually unharmed.  I am driving along the motorway, looking forward to bed, when I see, right in front of me in the fast and middle lanes, two cars, both stationary, one pointing the wrong way.  Brakes, swerve, stop.  I can see one of the drivers, but the other car, the one with it's bonnet towards me, is empty.

I flick my blue lights on, park appropriately to warn other drivers, and get out.  I don my flight suit, so that I am safe, and approach the driver.  He is unharmed, somewhat shaken, and rather worried about his cargo of china that he has in his car.  I help him across the motorway, where the other driver is sitting on the hard shoulder, unharmed but somewhat shaken.

I call 999 and let the police know what has happened, and tell them that I am in a blue-light vehicle, and that I have parked appropriately, in order that other drivers can see.  The police officer I am speaking to tells me that is inappropriate, and that, as long as there are no injured parties, I should continue on my journey.  I think this is somewhat odd, but decide to do as I am told.

Making my way back across the motorway, I watch in horror as a car hurtles towards to the accident scene at breakneck speed, swerving all over the road and coming to a very unsteady stop, mere inches from the cars.  I think about what might have happened had my blue lights not been visible, and know that I would have been called back.

I'm staying.

It's A Long Way...

"You want me to go where??" I ask Control.  "But, that's miles away, through all the Sunday traffic. Where's the helicopter?"  They tell me, and I wince: not quite next door to me, but, with a prevailing wind I could probably spit on the rotors from where I was sitting, comfortably ensconced with the family and a good Disney film on the box.

Off to the car (now I'll never know what happens in the film) and off I go.  As I turn on the engine, my fuel guage gently reminds me that I meant to fill up the last time I was out, but thought I would wait until the next time.  Hmmm, may be a problem.  My car eats fuel the way I drive it.  Well, at least I have my wallet in the car, so that I won't be completely stranded.

The traffic isn't as bad as I thought it would be: it is far worse.  I spend most of the journey on the wrong side of the road, as cars come hurtling towards me, then swerve around me at the last moment.

Up ahead, I can see the lights of the ambulance, fire tender and police.  Nearly there.  The traffic has slowed to a crawl, not unsurprisingly, this close to the accident, and I drum my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, changing the tone of my sirens every few moments, trying to persuade the drivers to give me just a few more inches.

My mobile rings: it's Ambulance Control, standing me down.  The patient was initially very agitated, but has settled down, and the crew are happy to transport him to hospital.  I suggest that they wait a few minutes, considering they have made me miss my film, and I roll on scene.

He is in the back of the ambulance, having been cut out of his car.  His daughter, sitting next to him, tells me he had gone all vacant, just before colliding with the car in front.  She is unharmed, just very shaky, and he is calm and coherent.  He remembers what happened with a clarity I don't often get from patients.  He remembers driving his daughter to a friend, when, all of a sudden, he couldn't speak.  Then, he remembers his right hand dropping to his lap, lifeless, and his right foot become heavy and glued to the accelerator.  He recalls pulling the steering wheel over to the left, hard, so that, when he struck the vehicle in front, it was with his side of the car, not his daughter's. 

I look at his drooping face, his lopsided attempt at a smile, and hear his slurred speech.  He asks me if he has had a stroke, and I nod.  He sighs.  It's going to be a very long journey for him...

Next Venture

When I wrote about the BUPA 10K run, I mentioned that there was something else on the horizon, and that I would let you know soon.  Well, here it is.  Those eagle-eyed Readers will already have noticed that I have been doing a lot of cycling recently.  Also, the panel on the right now says "Training for the Brands Hatch Cyclothon."  Yes, yours truly, along with MiniRRD and 2 others, will be cycling round Brands Hatch for 8 gruelling hours!!

I love cycling, far more than I like running.  I decided I needed a new bike, especially if I was going to be doing this Cyclothon.  I went to my local bike shop and bought one.  Bear in mind that I know precious little about bikes.  I wanted to ride home on it, so off I went.

1 minute later, the back tyre was flat.  I walked back to the shop, and they put in a valve.  The fact that it didn't have one originally did cross my mind, but hey, anyone can make a mistake!!  I decided to ride home again.

2 minutes later, the back tyre was flat.  I walked back to the shop, where they refunded my money.

I went to a proper shop, where they know what they are doing.  I test rode 3 or 4 bikes, and found the perfect bike for me.  It's a red one!!  I decided not to ride it home, as we live a good 10 miles away...

Later that evening, like an impatient schoolboy ("can I ride my bike now?  Oh please, oh please!!) I waited for the rain to stop, then went for a ride on my brand new (red) bike.

1 minute later I fell off.  I scraped my left elbow really bad, and my knuckles on my right hand.  Undeterred, I got back on and carried on my journey, blood dripping off my elbow and my hand.

20 minutes later I got a puncture.  And then it started raining.  And then my elbow started hurting.  I called MrsRRD, and she came and collected me.

I'm really looking forward to my Cyclothon...

Difficult

You may have noticed I haven't written for a while.  There is a good reason for this.  I have been to a job so difficult, one of the hardest I have done in my 10 years as a pre-hospital care doctor, and yet one so unique that to write about it in any way would breach the confidentiality that is so important to all.  The family, with whom I spent such a long time at the hospital, don't want anyone to know about what really happened at the house, and, to be honest, I don't blame them.

So, where do I go with this?  How do I move forward, writing about the "simple" jobs, those that don't touch my heart as this one has?  I'm not sure, to be honest.  I worry that the images of what I have seen will seep through into my posts about the "ordinary", as they have been seeping into my waking and sleeping thoughts.  MrsRRD, as always, has been a tower of strength; understanding what only she can.  And, holding my children, one at a time or all together, is a balm around my heart.

And, if this is how I feel, what must the family be feeling?  I cannot begin to comprehend how any family can rebuild after such an event as this.  And yet rebuild they must.  They have to go about their daily lives; school, work, shopping, living, even though their lives have been shattered.

I know this all seems so cryptic to you, dear Constant Reader.  Thank you for reading, thank you for letting me offload to you, in the only way I can.

Alice's Bucket List

Just go and have a look at this brave young lady's blog.  Make sure you have some tissues ready!!

Excuse me, but it has suddenly got very dusty in here...