If you don't mind!

Hello one and all!

Firstly, a massive thank you for the continued support, kind words and lovely comments you all give me. I really can't thank you enough! 

Now, to the point......

I have recently been told by a few people that they have nominated me for a Digital Media awards through Mind charity's upcoming Media Awards. As you know I have a keen interest in mental health so the fact that some people felt my writing was worthy of a nomination was touching.

There are a number of categories in the awards, the one that I am eligible for is the Mark Hanson Digital Media Award.  If you have the time or inclination to nominate me, please please do! All entries must be received by midnight on Friday the 13th July so please hurry!!

To nominate me, click the link below. Write your nomination in the box at the bottom of the page titled 'Digital Media' saying why you think I deserve it and include a link to a post you like. Below is a list of mental health blogs I have done which you can copy and paste into the nomination. 

Nominate Now!

Mental Health Blogs:

Pass the Donkey

http://www.tryingmypatients.com/2012/04/pass-donkey-part-1.htmlhttp://www.tryingmypatients.com/2012/04/pass-donkey-part-2.htmlhttp://www.tryingmypatients.com/2012/04/pass-donkey-part-3.html

Mental Health in an Ambulance

http://www.tryingmypatients.com/2012/02/mental-health-in-ambulance.html

Snap out of it

http://www.tryingmypatients.com/2012/07/no-title-yet.html

No serious, leave it with us

http://www.tryingmypatients.com/2012/06/no-seriously-leave-it-with-us.html

The Irony in Crisis

http://www.tryingmypatients.com/2012/06/irony-in-crisis.html

OCD, Tree & GPs

http://www.tryingmypatients.com/2012/05/ocd-trees-gps.html

Mental Health: No ones responsibility

http://www.tryingmypatients.com/2011/12/mental-health-no-ones-responsibility.html

I'm up against many many great writers, authors and journalists so it's unlikely i'll win but it's so nice to be mentioned!

Thanks again, really appreciate every single one of you

Ella xx

Just like a taxi

"47 year old male, fainted"

To most people, a '47 year old male, fainted' would mean exactly that. A 47 year old male who had fainted. A faint, or what we call syncope or a transient loss of consciousness, can have a number of causes. They vary from prolonged standing and hot environments to sudden standing and anxiety. A faint can last from a few seconds to a few minutes. This guy hadn't fainted, that I was sure of before we had even started driving. Next to the address was 'O/S' which means outside. In the text about the faint it said 'lying on grass' and it was 11:30pm. It was also called by the infamous 'passer-by' who shockingly was no longer on scene. In my experience, 47 year old men don't faint at night on grass! The 'fall' onto grass due to excess alcohol! 

Sure enough, sat on the wall with an FRU was our patient, heavily intoxicated. There had been no 'faint' just a stumble into a bush! He was drunk but still able to walk with a little assistance and able to answer the ll questions asked to him. He didn't know where he was so after checking him over we agreed to take him home as long as there was someone else there. He told us he lived with his parents and that they were in. The guy was quite rude and dismissive but I didn't think the hospital would appreciate his presence and I didn't want to be responsible for letting him try and find his own way home drunk. As much as we are NOT a taxi, this seemed the simplest option and would prevent a hospital visit and more ambulances called by the lovely, caring passers-by. 

We headed off for his home address while I was doing the paperwork. Whilst I wrote and asked questions he was starring around the back of the ambulance and started chuckling.

"If you look at it, this is just like a mini-cab that I don't have to pay for isn't it?" *laughs*

I stopped writing, my head remained totally still and my eyes raised up slowly from my clipboard and fixated on his grinning face. In my most sarcastic of voices I replied:

"Yes, we are JUST like a mini-cab" 

He laughed again...

"So is this all you do all night long?"

"Yes, pretty much" *biting tongue*

"Seems like a waste of money, is that what my tax goes on?" *laughs*

"Yes, it is a complete was of time, money and resources" 

The irony of the conversation was, sadly, completely lost on him. I looked back down at my clipboard and asked for the phone number of his next of kin. He chucked his phone onto the bed and told me it was under 'mum'. I pressed the green 'phone' button to turn the screen on and it brought up his list of recently dialled numbers. At the top of the list... 999.

"So you phoned the ambulance?"

"Yeah"

"So you did know where you are?"

"Yeah"

At that moment, the back door swung open, we had arrived; he got up and staggered out.

"This isn't my road"

"Yes it is"

"No it isn't"

"Yes it is"

"No it's..."

The front door of the house we were parked outside opened. It was his dad. 

"Oh... it is my house"

He staggered off down the garden path, into the front door and straight past his parents, who obviously wanted to know why there was an ambulance outside.

"Your son is drunk, he phoned an ambulance and lied so he could get a lift home, so here we are, bringing him home"

Pleasantries were exchanged, apologies were given and feeling cheated and disgruntled we left. I suppose we could have taken him to hospital, but to what end? Waste their time for a while and cost more money? We could have left him where he was but if we had and he had been hit by a car, who would have been blamed?! What can we do?! How can we get around this?! We didn't know he was the caller, we didn't know that he knew where he was, we didn't know he was playing us until it was too late. We can't charge him. We can't report him to anyone. Seriously, what can we do?! People joke about us being a big yellow taxi but we are! Clearly! Call 999 when you're drunk and you'll get a lift home. It makes me so angry but what can I do or say? Nothing.

Medics should be seen but not heard

"Bunch of primadonnas acting like spoilt brats"

Doing the job I do, I get the opportunity to work an various different types of events for a number of different companies. Most recently I worked at Wembley for the England international match against Holland. Being a new stadium and one with a huge capacity, as expected it has excellent medical facilities. There is a mini hosiptal which has minors, majors, a resus, x-ray facilities and everything else you would expect from a hospital. There are doctors, nurses, consultants, radiographers, paramedics, EMT's and first aiders enabling it to be a self contained fully functioning hospital. Due to beaurocricy however it is not run by just one company. Wembley Medical staff the hosiptal, but they do not have the contract to take patients to hospital. This is done by another contractor who provides 3 ambulances and staff to man them. On top of this London Ambulance Service have to provide staff incase there is a major incident as neither of the other ones have the resources to cope. The problem is the 3 companies don't work in harmony. The whole operation can't go ahead without LAS presence, Wembley Medical don't welcome LAS and the transport are treated like a sub species by Wembley Medical. It does make for some interesting interactions which I have seen first hand from all sides, having firmly stuck my fingers in all the pies going! On this particular occasion I was working for the company contracted to transport the patients to hospital.

Each company has their own priorities regarding patient care. Up to 90,000 people cram into the stadium and all have the right to treatment free of charge. The NHS does still exist at the moment! There are mobile medical teams, first aid points on every levels and skill mix of staff to deal with everything. Once in the hospital they are treated for their illness or injuries and either discharged or taken to an NHS hospital by one of the ambulances. Unfortunately it appears only certain facilities are available to the paying public. If a precautionary x-ray is needed, rather than have it done on site by the radiographer the public will be sent to join the queues at the local hospital. X-ray is reserved for footballers only. If a patient is ill enough to be in the resus room they can only go in there if all 3 beds are empty. Resus is reserved for players only, they need privacy afterall. If a patient dies, the priority isn't to work on them and save them. Oh no. It's to get them off site as quick as possible because, and I quote:

"It's not good for PR if someone dies at Wembley, imagine the headlines!"

Forget about the fact that 'stay and play' is sometimes the best thing to do, we've got an image to protect. That's what's important right?!

When I said there are 3 ambulances, that isn't entirely true either. There are 3 vehicles but only one is for the public. It's the old one. There is a slightly newer one that can be used as a spare ambulance in case the players need 2, but they would rather it wasn't used. Then, there is the brand new ambulance. That is only for the players should they need it. And if they do, these are the instructions we have.

• Don't talk to them
• Don't speak unless you are spoken to.
• Don't ask them questions
• Don't ask for autographs
• Don't take photos
• Do whatever they want, no matter how unreasonable you think it is. They are the priority over anyone else. They get what they want.

Since when did these overpaid, untalented ADHD kids become royalty. Since when do they get to dictate and affect the treatment of the public? We were basically told, 'you are their bitch'. Why are we even there then? I understand the rules about photos and autographs, that wouldn't be professional, but 'don't speak unless you are spoken too'? I'm not a petulant child from the 1950's. I'm here to provide medical care to anyone who needs it regardless of social status or ability to do kick-ups. 

Another example of the needless pampering arose when I was bringing a patient from somewhere in the stadium to the hospital. The lady had a head injury from a fall, albeit a minor one. She wasn't well enough to walk so she was in a chair. As you can imagine Wembley is huge. The hospital is in the underbelly of the stadium. To access it there is an internal road over 1km in length that goes around the entire circumference of the pitch, just outside of public view. We were within 100ft of the hospital and were stopped my security. 

"Sorry, this way is now closed, there may be players by the coaches"

"We are going to the hospital with our patient"

"You'll have to go the other way, we can't have people getting near the players"

Fifteen minutes laters we reached the hospital. I simply do not understand the power these players have. The fact that Wembley Medical seem willing to allow this nonsense goes a long way to explaining. I understand that the players should be left alone by staff, we are not their to verbally abuse John Terry (as much as I'd love to) but if a paramedic and an EMT are wheeling a patient with an obvious, actively bleeding head injury to hospital, how can it be right, or medically responsible to make us walk 1km around the entire stadium just incase we get to near a precious footballer?! Can you imagine the headlines if she, or any other patient, died whilst going the long way round?! Probably not because 'it's not good PR if someone dies at Wembley'. 

The world has become obsessed with the celebrity culture. These 'role models' that are paid in excess of £100,000 a week (or 5 years wages as I like to call it) to kick a ball around. They are pandered to and yet there are no penalties or changes to their lives for drink driving, racism, violence & sexual assaults. Even on the rare occasion where they go to prison they come straight out back into their highly paid  privileged lifestyle. If the layman commits those crimes the fines and punishments effect them. If I was found guilty of racial abuse the £2500 alone would be a real struggle to pay. I would lose my job and would struggle to find another. If John Terry is found guilty of racism (which I suspect he will be) the fine imposed will be 2 hours 38 minutes wages, he will remain employed on £170,000 a week and will release some kind of sugarcoated statement to appease the masses. No doubt he will still represent our country as a convicted racist. What message does this send out to the youth?! 

The only reason the footballers and celebrities act like they can tread on anyone and do what they want when they want is because our society allows it and panders to it. Until a stand is made nothing will change and we can't really blame anyone but ourselves. I for one will not be working at Wembley again while that Mickey Mouse outfit is running things. 

(Unless of course, I'm offered double pay... slave to the wage and all!)

Buggies

Buggies. Some parents live by them, some detest them. I am the latter. I cannot bloody stand them! The second that the boy could walk more than four steps without falling flat on his face the buggy was put into retirement. Luckily for us he embraced this and like me, he is extremely stubborn. Even on the rare occasions it was offered he would insist on walking. If I was in a rush, he would be carried. Why don't I like them? Well, they take up so much room, they cost so goddamn much and when I wasn't using them they just annoyed me everywhere I went. They cluttered aisles in supermarkets while other mums chatted, they blocked my desired route while in shops and people seemed totally incapable of not driving them into my ankles everywhere I went. Don't even get me started with them on buses and trains or I will explode. From an ambulance perspective loading a mum and her 'ill' child onto an ambulance, complete with the bags, the other kids and a double buggy is a pain in the arse to say the least. OK, OK, they are a necessity but that doesn't mean I have to like them. The reason I am writing this blog though is one of safety and sheer stupidity. I see it every single day at work, I see it every day driving my car and if you haven't seen it you are clearly living in an area which isn't home to muppets!

"RTC Car vs Pedestrian, 2 year old male, injuries unknown"

Those words give a sinking feeling every single time. It is the sinking feeling of fear. A weird fear but a fear all the same. Obviously fear is usually associated with something that makes you jump; a moment of tension in a film or a phobia. It isn't that we don't know what to do, it isn't that we don't feel able to do what we need to do, nor is it the fear of working in front of a crowd; it is the fear of seeing a dead child. A dead child that will make me think of my son. A dead child in front of their mother. That is the fear. Each drive to these jobs is subdued; you are hoping it isn't as given, you are hoping a passer by has got it wrong, you are hoping you are cancelled 'No longer required'. We were not cancelled, instead we struggled to barge our way though the traffic caused by the RTC. As per usual with these type of jobs, it occurred on a pedestrian crossing on a busy high street with a high foot fall. We were first on scene and my heart sank as we ground to a halt. Lying in the middle of the road was a push chair. A contorted push chair. Contorted by the impact with the Land Rover sat at a 45 degree angle on the crossing with its hazard lights flashing. The usual sea of frantic waves greeted us but from where we stopped, all I could see was the pushchair.

I grabbed the bags, my crew mate grabbed the collars and a blanket and I tentatively made my way around the car. Lying on the floor was the little boy. He was wearing the same Thomas the tank engine t-shirt that my boy wears. At his head, kneeling on the floor was an off duty policewoman keeping his head still. At his side was his mother, crying and holding his hand. Surrounding them all was a 50 strong crowd, camera phones at the ready. This morbid practice has become customary every time there are blue lights in the vicinity. Could this be the next viral YouTube video, could it be the next malpractice story the Daily Mail would sink their teeth into? I just try to ignore it. I made my way over to the boy. His eyes were open. That was a good start! To cut a long story short, we checked him over from head to toe. Apart from dirty clothes and a small graze on one of his hands he was injury free. Thank god for kids being bouncy. We took the usual precautions but I was happy that he was going to be just fine. Now, what happened?

It didn't take long to establish the facts. The mum had walked up to the pedestrian crossing and pressed the button. Remember 'Stop Look and Listen'? This time she had! She had approached and waited until it was her time to cross at the edge of the pavement. The problem was, she was pushing the buggy and whereas she was on the pavement, the buggy was half in the road. The car, driven by another mum with her child onboard the Chelsea tractor (that's a rant for another day), had not been concentrating and had continued to drive in a straight line and failed to see the buggy in the road. Bang! Land Rover + Maxi Cosi buggy = Contorted mess + flying child. 

What... the hell... was she thinking?! Why do people do it?! It is your child, don't push them into oncoming traffic! Seriously! Like I say, it is not uncommon either! EVERY SINGLE DAY!! Walk down a high street, any high street and look at just how many buggies are edging out into the road! I have taken to stopping and ranting when I see it.  Most sheepishly reverse, some flip me the bird and some tell me to Foxtrot Oscar, but why take the risk?! Every time I see it, my hatred for them increases. Obviously, I am being completely unreasonable in my hatred for an essential item but that's just me! I see things at work that cloud my judgment and make me see red! Have you seen this happen?! Is it just me?! Do you hate buggies too?! Maybe it isn't the buggies, maybe it's the muppet in control of them but it is easier just to blame the buggy and be done with it!

I Shall Wear Purple

"76 year old female, dizzy spells"

There is one thing that never ceases to amaze me in this job and that is the characters that I meet. Sure, there are idiots in the world; there are also time wasters, hypochondriacs, grumpy people, angry people, rude people and ill people, but there are just as many people that make my day. They may not be ill, they may not necessarily need an ambulance, but they are polite, funny and interesting. I had spent the morning with the aforementioned  idiots; every single patient I had seen had been rude, ignorant and a complete drain on resources. I needed a pensioner to cheer me up. I think it's a generation thing. Their generation was formed on respect. They are more often than not happy to see you, grateful for your presence and forever apologising for wasting our time. Over and over again I tell them they are not and it is an absolute pleasure to be with them. 

We arrived at the house, let ourselves in via the key safe and shouted the usual 'hello, ambulance' as we entered. Our patient was sitting in her armchair, the broadest of smiles met us as we approached. To say she had a wacky outfit would be an understatement. She was wearing a green skirt with pink and white polka-dot tights underneath. On top she had a Mickey Mouse t-shirt and a purple suit jacket with shoulder pads. Her glasses were similar to that of Dame Edna Everage and her hair was a pale yellow, styled like GI Jane! I started asking the usual questions to ascertain what was wrong with her but she quickly changed the subject:

"Do you like my outfit?"

"It's certainly a lot more fun than mine!"

"There is no point in being boring is there?!"

"This is very true!"

"My daughter hates it, she is embarrassed to take me out! What a prude"

"I'll take you out then!"

"I'll hold you to that! I was so fed up of my clothes being boring, you see of these fashion sorts on the box, there are no rules saying that just because you are old you can't wear what you want"

"Very true, why the hell not eh?!"

"When my husband died I decided I would never look like a bore again, so I wear what I want when I want."

"Good for you!"

She pointed at the wall opposite and told us to have a read. On the wall, in a frame was a poem by Jenny Joseph. She told us that she read it, loved it and has lived by it ever since. We both stood and starred:

When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple

with a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

and satin candles, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired

and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

and run my stick along the public railings

and make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

and pick the flowers in other people's gardens

and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

and eat three pounds of sausages at a go

or only bread and pickles for a week

and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

and pay our rent and not swear in the street

and set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

As I turned back around to her she said:

"I've been practicing, now i'm a master of it! If you don't like me in purple, tough!"

This is why I love my job. You just wouldn't meet people like this stuck in an office. She wasn't that ill, she'd had a couple of dizzy spells and had called NHS direct. She didn't want to go to hospital so we referred her to her GP. Obviously that had to be done over tea and biscuits. She was an incredibly proud woman; proud of her appearance and proud of her home. Her look may not be everyone's cup of tea but it doesn't have to be. This was her time to rebel against the norm and 'step away from the mundane' and she was doing so in style and with a smile. As she said, 'two fingers up to anyone who poo poos me'! Priceless!