Ten years since I last posted. Much has changed. All for the better. Only came back because of the ten year anniversary of my sisters death. Will have a think, but I don't think I'm as grumpy as I once was....

ALL OK.

All is well in my world really. New bird and having fun.

The truth is that there is an underlying feeling of relief. As hard as that sounds I no longer have to think about how I will care for my sister after my parents are gone. Don't get me wrong - I loved her, but as sad as things are it will make my life easier.

|Is that heartless, probably. Is it honest, totally.

Other than that I seem to of run out of things to moan about. I'd just be repeating myself. The truth is that at the moment I find little true worth in what I do for a living. I love my job when I do what I am trained to do; the reality is that I drive a taxi - for half the cash and I really can't be fucked with it all.

Cheers to you all. Live long and prosper!! :-)

BACK TO NORMAL?

Well work have been great I, actually, was offered more time off than I requested and realistically I needed it. It has been a very strange and stressful couple of weeks. I don't think I've stood still until today.

Normally in such circumstances we skulk away and leave the police to do what they do. Now I know what a fantastic job that is done by these men and women. Thank you all.

Dealing with the estate is a nightmare all of its own. The Government are mercenary bastards when it comes to this, even clothing needs to be valued for Inheritance Tax purposes. The last thing you need to worry about at times like this are how much a few pairs of old shoes are worth.

Still this is the way of the world. Managed to get away for a few days. Fishing, which is the best thing for the sole, and a wee break with the old's. Today is the first day I've had to myself for two and a half weeks, which sounds and is good. The problem though is that I've cried more today than in the last 14.

Back to work tomorrow though and I hope the return to routine brings me back on track. I've been pretty good about everything so far. I know that you never get over the loss of a loved one - you just get use to living with it.

So, back to normal? There is a new "norm" to become accustomed to. Feels very strange suddenly being an only child. I miss my big sister.



P.S. Thanks to everyone for the support. It is not unnoticed nor unappreciated.

GOODBYE MORAG.

For twenty two of her forty one years she had lived under the specter of being mentally ill. A hellish twilight region known as bipolar disease, a place that few know and fewer fully understand. Every day was a struggle. A dark world where every direction held uncertainty and fear. Every shadow was a ghost to dread and every noise was the start of an assault.

She struggled on showing a strength that not many people have. A determination to fight the un-winnable fight. Desperate to be liked by everyone and loved by those close to her. She was the inherent mixture of fun, happy and miserable. She could be a real pain in the ass at times and mean as hell to those who cared most for her, she could also make you laugh. She was ill. That was known and she was loved. She knew that, deep down she knew but could only see a cold, lonley future. Sometimes being loved just is not enough.

Over the past couple of years the, irrational, worry of what the future held began to drag her down. Fear of little things like how she would do the shopping to the big things like how would she pay the bills. An inherent fear of loneliness, a fear of living within the realm of the mentally ill with no one to hug her and no one to make her smile. A fear of things the future may hold.

There had been some previous pseudo suicide attempts. Scratching with knives and threats. Nothing to leave a mark on her just cries for help and a strength that she could not find within herself. She was a lovely, considerate, kind girl who did not deserve this. She was an innocent. She deserved better; the best.

Her parents came home yesterday to find her hanged from the banisters. Her dad did all he could, knowing CPR, and the Ambulance crew turned up to take over. Realistically there was noting that could be done but the effort made really did make all the difference. I cant stress this enough. I know it was a token gesture, but it mattered that it was made.

Sometimes you become hardened, not unconscious of, or immune to, the suffering of the relatives. Just, "it's a job", it's what we do. You clear the scene and control send through the next call - off you go. Another day at the coal face.

No matter how hardened you become, how long in the tooth, how much of an old hand you may feel - when it's your sister it hurts like fuck.

Goodbye, Morag. I love you and I'm going to miss you. I hope you have found peace. Sorry I was not there when the storm broke.

WHO ARE YOU.. WHO, WHO, OO, OO?

Someone once said I looked like Bruce Willis ( I'd heard this before when thinner) but I don't know if I ever saw this. I think I look like a young Saun Connery, but realistically I think I could get away with pretending to be Dara O'Brian.

You decide. There's a photo of each of us.

HO HUMM.

No interesting work stuff to report. Am pissed off with midwifes who think that it's fun to call 999 for a 32/40 pregnancy because their on a half day. Then again I am a grumpy old man these days. I'm sure the fact that she blatantly lied to the hospital to justify this makes her feel good. The whole crash team was waiting on us when we trundled up with this healthy 19 YO. No bleeding, no pravia, no hypertension, no tachycardia. I think she gave us the wrong girl, not that she bothered to provide a handover or a letter. Should be struck off.

Good news is that I've organised my physical for the OZ application. Not for a couple of weeks and the closest centre is a 4 hour drive away. Still, gives me time to cut out the fags and practice carrying things up and down stairs. Hope I can manage it!! The stopping smoking bit is not that bad.

WILLINGLY GIVEN .... ?

My Granny called it the "sight", some call it the "gift", some call it precognition. I call it bloody predictable. The price was paid and I must say it was particularly painful.

Some people I have learnt to hate over the years and last night kicked off by three of these folk in a row. None of these people had anything wrong with them and being well known to us everyone involved knew this, especially them. All were pissed and would walk out of the hospital before we had finished booking them in, as usual. All wanted a wee trip up the road for whatever reason that springs into their rotten, Ferrel heads. Eight minutes (8) was the longest any were prepared to wait before getting a taxi home. Ho Hum. Who am I to suggest that these things should be charged for abusing the service? Give them a lift I always will.

A few more drunks and a couple of quite sad psychiatric jobs. A change of blood soaked uniform and here I am at home.

Predictable? It never fails.

THE EYE OF SUSPICION.

It was a Friday night shift. The rain came down in sheets and the wind blew hard. Rivers had burst their banks. Generally it was pretty shitty.

The most worrying thing for all members of the A&E system was that it was scarily quiet. This is not good. You cant relax, something is wrong. Now if I was not at work I'd be staying in and watching Friday Night With Jonathon Ross but our normal customer considers inclement weather no hindrance to getting pissed, having a fight and throwing up on me. They may decide to ware a long sleeved t-shirt but that's about it.

Nights like this make you uneasy because you know you'll pay the price at some point. Nurses and Ambo's pace about, bighting finger nails, waiting on the next job and it just did not arrive. You expect the call to an 8 car RTC, buss crash, fire at an old folks home. Something! It's written in the stars, Carma, kismet - call it what you like but we all know that by the end of shift on Sunday morning we'll of given our pound of flesh.

Knowing this I now have to try and get to sleep but , you know, I'm scared of what will come.

2012

I was catching up on the world of Blogs and red a comment on Frank Chalks site that got me googling. The comment was absolutely right and it made me laugh.

Now I must say that I approve of the message and would encourage all over the age of consent to indulge in this new Olympic event. Get training and perfect your technique. I'm available to train any women looking to participate, even in an armature capacity.

A man on the left and a woman on the right. Can you see it yet?

THE FOURTH DAY.

Four day shifts over the weekend and what has it held? Well, a little bit of everything. I can be a bit of a pain in the ass at times to people that know me and have been grumpy over the last few weeks anyway. I wasn't looking forward to this long weekend of being at the mill but this is what I did.

We got a job to a 56 YOM (Year Old Male) with chest pain and unable to use his legs. On arrival he was in the bog, walking just fine and had no chest pain. It turned out he was a frequent flier and insisted on being taken to his appointment at the dermatologist which was in two hours time. I told him to fuck off. Now this is not service policy but really! What do I care about this creature, selfish git.

Drunk at a pub. Well I get drunk at pubs, I ,generally, am able to walk at 1400 hours and have never called anyone a C*** for trying to see if they are ok. Let this pass but when told to F*** off was glad to see him get lifted for breach. Pissed wanker!

26 YOM methadone user who was found lethargic by mum. Had not taken methadone for 3 days but there was none left in the bottle. Hmmm? OK he was stoned out his tits and mum was worried and he needed monitoring in-case he went flat but he was playing on it. "Legs don't work" yeh, right. Grow up.

22 YOM assault. This happened 4 weeks ago. Had a sore knee. This knee was in plaster but he cut this off because it was itching. Didn't want to go to hospital because he was out his head on a cocktail of heroin and booze so there we go. His uncle did ask my partner ( a female) for a wank as he liked the latex gloves. What can I say? Really, what? He deserves to be shot. Tosser.

65 YOF having am MI (heart attack). ECG, pin in the arm, aspirin (this is the most important thing if someone is having an MI. If mum or dad gets bad chest pain drop in a 300mg aspirin ASAP). Not thrombolisable so batter into A&E.

A number off lovely old folk with ongoing heart problems who didn't want to be a bother but should of been earlier. Call us! We are there for you, not your pissed grandson.

The grumpiest man in the world. A guy who drank 10 litres of cider a day for 20 years suddenly decided to give up without GP advice. He also decided to come off the Valium at the same time. We arrived after a 20 minute trip just as he stopped seizing. Did not look like a seizure patient (ambos will know what I mean) more TIA or even cardiac. Basically he looked very ill. Anyway, after everything we could do in five minutes (which was just about everything - when in a hurry it don't take long) he was telling us to get to "F" which was, according to his wife, his good old normal self. Signed the form and told us that we were wasting our time as he was "fucking OK." Hopefully his wife will get him to his GP if he's not in hospital by now. The seizure lasted about 10 - 15 minutes, a very, very, very long time. Still we can't kidnap people so I hope he knows best.

34 YOF taken an overdose. Eyes role and looks of disbelief pass between the ambulance crew. This may sound unsympathetic but the reality is that very few OD's actually ever take the pills they say. Anyway, I felt for this woman after a wee chat. I think it was post natal stuff but she had also lost her dad and grand-dad within the last 5 months. Not a good spot. In reality she was a bit of a pain in the ass but I hope it all works out and that shes OK.

The first job today was to a miscarriage. Normally these are to threatened or inevitable miscarriages. This is where it may prove to be or is going to be a miscarriage. Today it was to a miscarriage. 21 YOF who was being treated for a urine infection. Went to the toilet at 0730 and lost her child. From my perspective I hate these jobs. I don't know what to say, or even if there is anything you can say. I hate having to pick a 19 week old foetus out a toilet and try not to vomit and cry at the same time. I hate the angst, stress, confusion and melancholy that this brings on me. Most of all I hate the fact that I cant do anything to make things better, I cant help. I cant do anything but feel sad and know that what I feel is nothing compared to the loss of the mother. I took five minutes in private to shed a tear, I guess she will be crying for much longer. I only wish that I could let her know that my silence was because I do care. I can't begin to comprehend the loss.

The next job was to a 19 YOM with a 2 week history of having a sore shoulder. I wanted to break his fucking arm!!!!

SPARE TIME.

Board again really. I've been on a week off, following a week of night shift. As mentioned somewhere previously, it always take a few days to get over the jet-lag. Anyway I've not done much, the plan was to head off for a couple of days but that went tits up so was left here looking for mischief.

Found no mischief at all. Quite disappointing. Had a funeral to go to on Tues and helping a friend move house on Thurs. Out for a meal with an old friend tonight so I guess that I should feel like the weeks been full. It's not.

Been banging my head off the walls for the last few days and smoking for Europe.

The big news is that I've sent off my application for a job in OZ. Wish me luck - though it's running away from this life I may even find someone "special" over there. I like the Antipodes and seem to function better over there. I hope it all goes to plan as, in reality, I've had it with the NHS and this PC led country.

THAT SMELL!

I was talking with my partner the other day about death.

Now this may seem a strange thing to those that don't deal with it but the reality is that it's like discussing the weather after a while to those that do. It's not that you stop feeling nor that you stop caring. It's certainly not that you don't feel the loss of those around you. If I get to that point I leave and become a traffic warden.

I remember everything about my first arrest. The name, face, location even what was in the shopping trolley. I remember the thump, the shocks, the conversation I had with a dead man, willing him back to life. Unusually we got a return of spontaneous pulse giving his family time to say good bye. I will never forget this, any of it; ever.

After a while though it changes. I hope I never forget that someone has died nor that those that survive are hurting and that I will always empathise with their pain. I no longer know how many people I have been to that have died though. How they died and where they died does not stay in my memory. It may be dozens or even hundreds, I really don't know. I still feel uncomfortable having to break this news and hope that this is a sign that I retain a basic human decency despite what I do for a living.

How has this changed me? Well, I see the mortality in everyone I know and meet. I assess the likely-hood of a heart attack or stroke, the chances of cancer - how they are likely to go. This is all done on a sub-conscious level but it is there and I'm aware of it. I expect my father to have a huge stroke, my mother to succumb to cancer and my sister to meet an untimely death at her own hands. Me, it's COPD and cancer. I don't expect any surprises.

Does this make me more passionate about things, overly keen to meet life head on and more susceptible to fits of anger about what I find unjust? Dammed right it does.

The outcome of this.... we all, as Ambos, carry the feint smell of death around with us. People know, normal people know, what we do. I think that while they all are amazed that we do what we do the very fact that they "couldn't do our job" says more than they think. We deal with the dirty, the sick, the maimed and the dead. It's a fantastic job when we do what we are trained to do but it leaves a mark and it's not always comfortable.

ACUTE, SUDDEN ONSET.

999 call to 38 YOM, depressed, feeling unwell.

On arrival the man was slumped in a chair, pale, glazed eyes. Said he was afraid that there were strange things going on and that the henna he had pit in his hair may of had some strange effect. All through this his eyes were distant.


He wanted to go to hospital and who am I to refuse. Even after trying to explain the effects of smoking hash he wanted hospital treatment.

In my day it was called a whitie and cured with coffee.

So there you have it. Acute sudden onset of sadness. The handover was fun at the hospital.

WORK, WORK, WORK.

Well, work has actually been pretty slow - for the last few months. Cant really think of much to write about. I'm on night shift at the moment and have actually been pretty quiet after about midnight.

If anything exciting or unusual happens I'll let you know.

THE STORY

It should be OK to tell a tale as I suspect those involved wont read this now.

Some of you wished me well so here is the story.

I hooked up with my childhood sweetheart a wee while ago. I was very happy and got carried away with things.

She came out of a pretty destructive relationship a short while ago and I guess she thought she was ready for something new. She wasn't, certainly not what I threw at her after 20 years of carrying a torch for her. I also have more than my share of baggage to lug around and this manifested itself as a flood of love and affection. It is exactly the sort of stuff that scares me off so why did I expect her to do anything other than run? I don't know.

I felt pretty stupid at blowing it and sad that two people who really do get on so well couldn't work things out.

Anyway I'm nothing if not resilient and feel pretty normal again. I hope that she'll still be my pall but if not I learnt some pretty good lessons about where I am emotionally. Too much time on my own living in a ditch in the country. Not healthy. Even though I love it here it's maybe time for a change. Maybe I need to engage with polite urban company again.

I really do need to get a life.

PS. if you do read this, A. You'll always be cool with me <3

SOMETIMES II

Sometimes life just sucks; and it's all your own fault!

A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING.

One of life's great mysteries to me is the shopping trolley.

As a child my father always said "a place for everything and everything in its place". He was right. When things are tidied up and put away in an orderly fashion they are not only easier to find but take up less room.

Why then is it that on completing my circuit of Tescos and having packed the groceries, randomly thrown into a trolley, into plastic bags and then place these bags into the cart do they tale up more room? These bags should fit neatly into the trolley making you thing "that's not to bad, really" rather than "what the f*** did I buy to take up that much space"?

My theory is that the supermarket chains have developed some strange marketing device that imperceptibly shrinks the trolley as you pass the checkout. While shopping it's bigger so you think "not bought much, have I" after it's all to late and you've paid it shrinks so the thought is "boy, that's a lot of stuff".

The volume contained in a shopping trolley is therefor inversely proportional to the amount of goods purchased.

Still confuses me.

THINK ON IT!

I could go on and on about how i feel about this subject and how my perception has change since I joined the ambulance service. A complete U turn.

Nothing I could say however would touch THIS.

Enough from me.

SOMETIMES

Sometimes life is good. I'm pretty happy at the moment :-)

I like this.

FINGERS CROSSED.

There is a young girl, 16, that I've taken on the two hour trip to the nearest transplant unit a couple of times now. She has cystic fibrosis and is awaiting a lung transplant. It's not happened yet but despite this she smiles and is full of hope and life. Her sister died from this a year or two ago. I can't begin to imagine how this effects her and her parents.

She smiles and talks, constantly, some may say too much but I like this and I cant help but admire her strength and optimism. She was back to the unit yesterday, all smiles and chat. I hope that the Donner is suitable and that all goes well for her.

While things don't ever seem to phase this amazing kid, they phases me though, it breaks my heart every time she's turned around and sent home. I hope that I never see or hear of this girl again. This would mean that all is well. Good luck Lass, fingers crossed.