Counting Sheep.

My other half is on nights. This is my first night in bed after a run of 4. We are sometimes like single parents, meeting at the top if the driveway handing over car keys and parental responsibility. I doze, kids sleeping soundly, dog snoring, cats purring and occasionally an owl hoots over the sound of the howling wind. I toss and turn restlessly, images of a job I was first on scene at flash like strobes. 

I half wonder if other paramedics, technicians or ECA's feel helpless, struggle with intrusive, unwanted images. We all seem to still keep our feelings quiet as if it's still a stigma. 

Not so long ago I walked into our en-suite and found a man hanging there. Of course he wasn't really there but I could see him as clear as day. I even recognised him from several years previous. I was slightly concerned, if I was honest I'd been irritable, tearful, snappy but just excused it and put it down to kids, shifts, life in general. I took some time off, spoke to our occupational Health Nurse who suspected I'd burnt out. A few weeks later I felt better, the hanging man had stopped showing up, my tears had dried up (or run out) and I felt ready to face the world again. 

Every now and again after a job that looks wrong visually I can expect a rough few days and nights. I don't know much about how my brain works but I think it replays it to try and make sense of the images and eventually everything settles down and a lid gets put on that box of images and it's filed away somewhere. 

I know that sometime soon sleep will arrive, I'll replay the incident over and over and it'll all die down. 

Until the next time. 

Bert and Edna

As I stepped in through the back door I was transported back some 60 years. Bert and Edna lived in a mid terrace and probably had lived here all their lives. The back room was where they spent most of the time. A coal fire glowed with last nights embers, an airer warmed their under clothes and I listened as Bert told me his story. He called his wife "Mum" and she smiled as she called him "Dad". Sweet, must be a northern thing. He had a chest infection, anti biotics hadn't helped. I tried to get him seen by the local minor injuries unit but was fobbed off by both the doctor and a nurse because of his low 90's sats. It meant a 25 mile trip to the next hospital as getting  an OOH at this hour was like finding a pile of rocking horse shit. 

I arranged for a crew to transport as I nebbed him, completed the paperwork and caught them occasionally catching each other's eye giving an unspoken reassurance. 

I wanted to remember Bert and Edna because pretty soon couples and houses like this won't exist. They will become distant memories of a past replaced by a uncertain future. 

Kilo Zero

I was returning to base after treating and leaving a patient at home. It was dark, windy and rainy and all I wanted to do was be at home in bed. The screen bleeped in to life and woke me from my daydream. I acknowledged the job and saw it was an entrapment. A perfect night for standing around I thought. My radio stirred and I answered it with my callsign; "Please can you just go and have a look" asked the voice on the radio. I resisted the urge to say no and switched on the blue lights. I saw blue lights up ahead and slowed down, as I approached the scene I saw that the fire service had just arrived. I got out and donned my Hi Vis and Helmet, grabbed some kit and took the scene in as I approached. An engine block to my left, debris strewn for 50 metres or so. A strange eerie silence as I approached one car, it looked like there was one male being attended to by 2 firemen. I walked past to the other car, one male sat at the side of the road and a female with a firefighter. I updated control, I needed 3 vehicles fast. Kilo Zero. The code for no vehicles available. That was pretty high up on the list of things I didn't want to hear. "I don't care where you get them from, but I need people here now, 1 x P1 and 2 x P2, possibly a Kilo 1" I returned to the P1, the firemen had inserted an OP airway and had begun ventilating the patient. He was encased by the car. I couldn't see below his chest, but I could see it rising and falling as I took over the ventilations. I listened to his chest, it sounded surprisingly clear. The firemen begun to dismantle the car and I noticed a child seat in the rear of the car. I shouted asking if anyone had missed anything and the fireman replied that they hadn't found anyone else yet. My radio went off, informing me that a vehicle was approx 10 minutes away and the Hazardous Area Response Team had been mobilised, thankfully they had a Doctor riding with them but they were over 20 miles away. I looked down on the ground, oil, fluid, debris and a soft teddy. For a moment I too stopped breathing. this wasn't just a patient, he was a Dad, the wedding band on his finger said he was a husband. I looked again at the scene, there were 6 of us around the car, all working seperately but together with one aim. the Police had arrived and were watching, grim faced and the reality dawned. It took us 45 minutes to release the patient, we worked on him, we gave him the best fighting chance. The 3 crews arrived, as did the Doctor who performed bi-lateral chest drains on him at the side of the road. Another statistic, another waste, another failure. Merry Christmas. Ho. Ho. Ho.