The Essentials

Ah, Monday mornings!! How I love my Monday mornings! You see, I don't go to work until 4pm on a Monday, so for me it's a continuation of my weekend, just without the noise of 5 smaller people.

It's a dressing gown morning for me. Mrs RRD has been up at the crack of dawn to take Princess and Micro2 to the bus stop, and I am enjoying a hot cup of tea and some 'us' time, while we work out what to do with our day together.

The ringing of my 'phone sends a small shiver of anticipation through my bones: yes, the screen reads "Unknown." Control seem to have got the message that I am still alive, and this is a call to a trapped RTC nearby.

"Want to come with?" I enquire of Mrs RRD. She acknowledges that this might be fun, and I rush upstairs to get dressed.

As I run down the stairs she is passing in the opposite direction! "Get into your suit and program the SatNav," she suggests, "while I get my essentials."

Thirty seconds later, the engine running, the SatNav all ready and the lights flashing, Mrs RRD jumps in beside me; flask of tea, book and make-up bag at the ready.

As I ease out of the drive, the 'phone rings again. I answer on BlueTooth (before anyone says anything!!): "Can we cancel you down on that job: no-one trapped or injured." We climb out and continue our day.

Jaded??

Some of you eagle-eyed readers may have noticed that I haven't posted for a while. Why? Well, mainly because I haven't had anything to write about. I haven't been on holiday (apart from a weekend in Holland - more about that in a moment), just haven't been called out to anything. Nothing. Sure, there have been some serious incidents in my area; someone falling out of a tree and landing on his head, a couple of fatal accidents on my stretch of the motorway. But no calls.

You may be wondering why. Well, so am I. I call the Desk regularly, they thank me very much for letting them know that they can call, day or night, and get me running. But they don't. I ring and ask them about the call the night before, and no-one can tell me why I didn't get a call. So, I begin to wonder: have I upset someone? Nope, I'm just out of the radar.

Cut to this weekend: a great break in Holland with the whole family, visiting more family. Let me tell you something; 8 children between the ages of 16 months and 17 years in one house isn't conducive to sleep!! We get back at just before midnight from the airport. The kids are tired. The adults are tired. The phone rings as I open the door to the house. Yep, nothing for almost 2 months, and then a call at midnight on the day I get back from holiday.

It's a call for assistance to a man who has rolled his car and is now deeply unconscious. Sounds reasonable. And yet I am looking for excuses not to go. This is so unlike me. How far away is it? Oh, that would take me at least 30 minutes to get there - they shouldn't wait for me, just scoop and run.

This isn't like me at all!! Whatever the distance, wherever the call, I would normally be out of the door like a rat out of an aqueduct!! But not this time. I know I have just got back from holiday, but it was only a weekend, and I'm not that tired. And I have been complaining bitterly about not being called. I get off the 'phone wondering what has happened to me, why I am feeling so jaded for the first time about driving out at all times of the day and night.


And then the 'phone rings again. Control tells me that the crew are running to the local with the patient, and I breathe a sigh of relief. But they continue: can I run to an alcoholic who has fallen and hit his head? It's a close one this time, so I shrug my shoulders, jump into my suit and drive off to pick up the pieces of an overindulgence at the pub.

A Night Out

Why is MrsRRD nudging me? Surely it can't be time to get up already? No, it's my 'phone. I'm so sleepy that even the dulcet tones of the drum solo from "In The Air Tonight" have failed to penetrate my dreams. No wonder: I had already had one call tonight, and only been asleep for a couple of hours. Fortunately, MrsRRD is awake enough to remind me that my jump suit and boots are in a pile on the floor of the bedroom, or I would have had a bit of a shock when I got down to my car and found them absent.

A few minutes later, SatNav programmed, I shake my head repeatedly to get rid of the last vestiges of sleep, and start my journey.

The car is on 4 wheels. That's always a good start. I see the airbags have deployed. That's not bad. The windscreen has a spiderweb pattern of cracks on the driver's side, the centre of which is pushed out alarmingly. You and I both know what made that mark - yes, Constant Reader, the classic sign of a bullseye, made when the driver's head impacts at speed with the windscreen. Not so good. Not good at all.

I survey the scene for patients. There's a woman, looking ok, with a piece of gauze on her chin. She's walking around, so she can wait. There's a young chap, looking very much the worse for wear, but from an alcohol point of view, rather than injury - at least that what it seems at the moment. He is jawing away in his phone, and the police seem very interested in him.

Ok, to the car. There is a young man being extricated on a spine board through the passenger door. He has a deep gash on his head, and looks as though he has a broken femur. I presume that this is the driver, who is being brought out this way because it was easier, but, when I question the ambulance crew, it turns out this is the passenger. The driver is the rather drunk chap, who is wandering around in the company of the boys in blue! Hmmm.

I check the passenger out - he is in a lot of pain, and will need stitches galore to repair the scalping he has had, but will be ok.

Wait a minute! This is the passenger! Not the driver. But it was the driver's side that had the bullseye in the windscreen. I rush over to the car to check the position of steering wheel, just in case I have got this wrong. Nope, wheel on right, with pedals underneath. So, man who has bullseyed the windscreen is - somewhere.

I have a chat with one of the officers. Apparently, the police have taken him away into custody. (Crazily, my mind repeats a sleep deprived litany, "Rhubarb and custardy, rhubarb and custardy!"). I try to get my mind round this one. Has anyone medical seen this chap? Nope. Well, you'll just have to bring him back, then. Boys in blue not too pleased about this turn of events, but agree that they were probably a little hasty in dragging him off to the cells.

I hang around scene as he is returned. It doesn't take me long to examine him and find he is completely uninjured, save for a probable fractured toe. I relay this information to the waiting police.

"What??" he exclaims. "I've broken my toe?????!!!! Will they have to operate??".

It took all my restraint not to drag him over to his friend, lying in the ambulance, a laceration you could keep a bottle of WKD in, and show him what he had done.

I go home, and eventually fall into a troubled sleep, with dreams of car crashes and damaged teenagers.

Filling the Coffers

Once again, MrsRRD helps our Charity to gain much-needed funds. She wrote to Waitrose in Mill Hill and nominated BASICS-London for their Community Matters scheme. Each month, three charities are chosen at each branch, and £1000 is split between them, based on the number of tokens each charity gets. The tokens are handed out to all the shoppers, and they chose which of three boxes to place their token. So, for the month of September, if you live anywhere near Mill Hill in London, do pop in and support your favourite charity. Who knows, you may meet someone special there...

Kids!!

My 7 year old niece told my sister-in-law that drinking too much coca-cola would kill you. She knew this was true because she had seen it on the television. She hadn't been paying too much attention, because she was playing with her brother at the time, but the man reading the news definitely said that drinking too much coca-cola would kill you. A repeat of the news show later revealed an interesting story about the dangers of alcohol. Close, so close!!

Sudden Death x2

He lies there, the driving rain beating down on his upturned face. I look at him and know, without a doubt, the eventual outcome. The tube in his windpipe lets the paramedic inflate his lungs, but there is no movement of their own. His body shows me all too clearly the trauma that he has suffered, when the cars collided, when he was ejected through the windscreen. I pierce his chest, deflate the tension pneumothorax, and again on the other side. But still, the monitor attached to him shows a straight line, asystole, death.

His family watch in horror, as I stand, my job done, and the paramedics draw the blanket over his head.

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He lies there, unable to stay still, unable to catch his breath. He calls out, pleading for me to help him. I look at him, and know, without a doubt, the eventual outcome. I have nurses, monitors, a whole hospital at my disposal this time. I listen to his chest, fight to find a vein to give life-saving drugs, and watch as his eyes glaze over and he takes his last breath in front of me. I pass a tube into his windpipe, breathe for him, and give him clot-busting drugs, in an effort to dissolve the clot that is blocking his pulmonary vessels.

His family are brought in as we continue the resuscitation attempt, and watch in horror, as I switch off the monitors, and the nurses draw the sheet over his head.

Leather

Well, Constant Reader, I would like to share with you something about me. Three years ago tomorrow, I stood beside a beautiful lady, slipped a ring onto her finger, and turned her into MrsRRD. Yes, tomorrow is our 3rd wedding anniversary, traditionally celebrated with a gift made of leather.

And, very publicly, I want to say thank you, MrsRRD, for standing by my side three years ago, and for continuing to stand beside me. You are the one who makes everything possible, who supports me in what I do, and who always helps me make the right decision. Without you, I wouldn't be RRD. I wouldn't be anyone.