Boy racers

We'd just got back to base when the job pinged on our screen. Car on fire. Great. Just around the corner, about 30 seconds away.
I drive, my mate jumps in next to me, we've already put our jackets on. We drive around and control get back to us again saying there is a car on fire. I see a car pull out of a pub car park and think there is something dodgy about this one, you know the feeling you get?
Anyway, I drive on and see people waving us down. We pull up alongside and I jump out grabbing the fire extinguisher. I take the scene in; i'm being filmed by sick people on their mobiles. Someone shouts thats it's OK - they're out of the car. I walk across the bomb site, which is exactly what it resembles, I have never seen anything like it in my life. I don't recognise the make of the car. I look inside and don't really recognise what I see either.
The driver is dead. I can tell that by looking at his injuries. I feel the carotid of the passenger, he is sitting upright looking nothing like the driver is. I shout for my mate to get me the trolley. I can't feel a pulse but I can tell this kid is young and I need to try and do something. My mate brings my helmet, which I throw away. A responder car turns up and starts sticking pads on the drivers chest. I tell them to leave it, that he's dead but he carries on. He's in PEA he shouts at me. No shit. "Leave him alone and help me get the door open" I say, actually I shout it because the idiot is intent on focusing on the damn driver.
Another crew turns up, thankfully they're a crew that I know and a whole lot more switched on than the responder. The Fire Service turn up and yank the door off, I quickly collar the lad, for the good it will do him. We get him on board and I suction him, he fills up again. I can't clear his airway, I look to tube him but I don't recognise any of what I should. Thankfully the hospital is 5 minutes away and we blue light him in. They call it pretty much straight away, he had dissected his trachea, amongst other things.

A few days later my boss calls me at home; What are you doing tomorrow? He asks. The boys mum wants to talk to you about the incident.

Shit.

You just never know...

Class 2 doctors urgent. Again. That's all we'd done all day. The sort where the patient had driven themselves to the doctors, the doctor says they should go up to the hospital and arranges an ambulance. The patient drives home and goes upstairs to bed and somehow loses the ability to walk. Anyway, I digress. Abdo pain, GP admission. Sprightly old chap wanders out and we wander up to him. He springs up (literally) into the ambulance, suitcase in either hand and flops down with a grin saying those mortal words...."Phew...when they said I had a AAA they didn't tell me it would be THIS painful!" Holy moly. Can I just have a feel of your tummy sir? One of my regular chat up lines. Sure enough there it is. Bi-lateral greys at the ready just as he performs his latest trick...the ironing board impression.

It's strange how you don't remember their names.

Her Majestys Finest

"Her Majesty's Armed Forces STOP OR I'LL FIRE!!!!!"
WTF??! We are driving down a very quaint street, admittedly it's 2am but that itsn't quite what we wanted to hear. "Can we help you sir?" as he threw himself onto our bonnet, blood smearing down across the AMBULANCE sign thats written backwards.
"275590611 Murphy Her Majesty's armed forces" he shouts again. I look at my crewmate who rolls his eyes back at me. It's going to be one of those nights. By this time a female sergeant has arrived, a copper sergeant, not a soldier one. He gets in the back of the truck and looks like he's been hit by a train. "I demand a medic" he shouts and spits at me. I think about that scene in Withnail and I.
He commando crawls along the floor towards the open door. "Mr Murphy" I say-too late. Another couple of scratches and bumps to add to the collection as he smashes his face in to the concrete.
I get out and stand infront of him. He is delerious and on drugs. "I demand a medic" he yells again and shouts a different set of numbers at me. He is commando crawling towards me, I don't move and he tries to go through me, not around me.
This is what I became a Paramedic for. Mr Murphy spends a night in the cells, at her Majesty's pleasure.