Another Year Over...

...And a new one just about to begin.
The last short leg before we enter 2009 has finally begun. Tomorrow is Hogmanay, and thankfully we can get ready to give way to a brand new year. Halleluiah!
So, in the style that all the cheesy T.V programmes do at this time of year, I think this is a good time for me to wrap things up with one final look back at what has happened during the bonnie year of 2008...

January - not much going on here really, other than my ambition to participate in more Red Cross duties. This included the Finale of Highland 2007 (previous blog posting!) and the Burghead Clavie (again a previous blog post) amongst numerous other bits and pieces. I think it was also the month I officially decided I wanted to leave the familiar sights of Elgin Academy and go to Moray College to ensue nurse training, because I had finally made an important and taxing decision; I want to be a paramedic. Oh, not forgetting study leave for the dreaded Higher prelims - the joys!
Ok, maybe it was quite a busy month...

February - fewer Red Cross duties (only a marathon I think - probable previous post) because of pain-in-the-ass prelims! However, an immense - and very romantic - long weekend made it all feel so much better. That was the best Valentine's Day ever... although the HNC Healthcare interview kinda held up procedings slightly, hehe.

March - this was a fun month! A good, varied handful of first aid events, including the almighty Manchester National Assembly!!! Such fun times. Fun...interesting...times ^^
Other Red Cross-themed events were Casualty Simulation training - also fun, and very messy, hehe. And a variety of motorbike races. Always good for a casualty or two.
This was also the month for my practical Music exam *eep!* and for S5 reports - both turned out pretty damn good in the end.

April - was hell. Initially, it was really ace. It wasn't until the end of the second week that things turned out to be a bit...wrong. First, there was a wedding; that was the good bit (had never been to a wedding before, and it was quite a special one, so that was grand). Then there followed a week of...well...what felt like absolutely amazing moments at the time. But things got a little out of hand with the family. They say that when one part of your life goes fantastically well, another part will crash and burn. I found myself torn between two loyalties - one was to a boy I was pretty hopelessly in love with for some bizarre reason, and the other was to my family. At that time, my heart ruled my mind, and I wanted so much to get away, just run away from the people who were trying to stop me from achieving what I wanted so badly. It all fell apart over university in the end; over going to England to live and study (and work, but they didn't know that part yet). It sounds rediculous now, but at the time it was heart-wrenching. Now I sound really spoilt...ok, it was heart wrenching because it meant me being separated from my 'amazing' boyfriend for even longer than I could ever want. And all this happened the day before my Emergency Response training course out at Glenmore Lodge. I wasn't exactly in peak form for it after all the comotion, and I think I gave a pretty bad first impression towards some folk. I bet they all thought I was well boring, sitting there all tired and gloomy, looking incredibly pale. Of course, they ken different now!
On reflection, I feel so awful about that whole situation, for everyone, but perhaps in particular for that boy of mine. I actually said to him I'd go with him to England (finally, I was given permission by my parent to at least try it!) after telling him it wouldn't work, and we got all excited about the thought of it... But then it all kinda fell through again (ouch, again) and I had to tell him it wasn't going to happen... again. Yeah, I think I messed him around a little with that.
The thing is, after my ER training, and just before my all important Higher Acting NAB, he dumped me. Yeah, that's right, after all that crap I've just splurted out in the midst of this post, he went and frikkin' dumped me. And for what reason? To this day I still don't know, cos he told me he didn't have a solid reason. The cheeky part was that he tried to twist things, and make out that I was asking him to leave his work for me, when all along I said to him I'd never expect it of him. Besides, it was always him that said he would leave it one day to come back.
And amongst all of this, I had to perform in my Higher Acting exam, which was made no easier by any of the above situation, or the fact that I had tonsillitis and a blocked ear because I was so run down.
Anyhoo, moving swiftly on...
The lesson I learnt that God awful month; if someone truly loves you, they'll wait for you.

May - things quietened down here, with the beginning of study leave for the real-deal Higher exams. Oh, and it was also Red Cross Appeal Week, so there was an additional ceilidh thrown in here for added fun. It was welcomed.

June - the end of the exams and the end of my school years! Finally I was waving goodbye to Elgin Academy and saying hello to the open world of opportunity. This was also the month of Rockness '08!!! What a fantastic weekend, only made slightly awkward by a brief meeting with the ex. But hey, it was a brilliant experience, and gave me plenty of opportunities to deliver some first aid, whilst listening to some live and funky tunes.

July - I bagged myself a job this month in a Nursing Home (name remaining anonymous for obvious reasons) which didn't feel like heaven for the first couple of weeks. However, after now being there for six months with flexible hours and a friendly care team, it's a pretty grand job to be in. It was also the month for more Red Cross duties; the month where the Galas begin! From the warm and toasty Forres Highland games to the wet and very wet Dallad Gala - just an idea of the contrast in weather that can happen in a "summer" month.

August - A most important month, because it's my birthday!!! Ok, I'll put my ego away now. Aside fae this, it's also time for the banterful Speyfest duty; always good for the mix in people, music, and drink. Of course, we can't forget that Glenalmond also happened this month! The ever amusing, entertaining, enlightening week which never gets old, despite the same old rountines that happen each and every year. No sarcasm - seriously -, it is a fantastic week. Got to meet with some old friends, as well as make a few new ones, both in delegate and leader form. In fact, it was Glen that really let the old heart-ache wound heal after my dumping five months prior. It showed me I could always feel a little something for another special person, and that's all I will say about that for now!
Another monumental moment was that dreaded large brown envelope falling through the letterbox - that's right, it was exam result time! Although, I was stuck at work all day and had to wait until four o'clock before I could get mine. Meanwhile I was tormented by texts fae all my mates asking me how well I'd done and getting to hear their brill results too. 4pm came, and with it came my mother, standing at the front gates of the Home with the envelope. My heart skipped a beat. I opened it the moment I reached her, tearing it open in all my anticipation...
Oh yeah, I'm a scoob - straight A's for me! So, that's something else I won't forget in a hurry.
Along with starting driving lessons; that was a fun one.

Sptember - back to education now, which meant the beginning of college and a whole four years of nursing. Ach, what a depressing thought... nah, I joke ^^
Once again, its the same old pattern of Red Cross duties and training events (advanced airway management, oh yaas!) and a chance to pop down to Dundee to visit an old Glenalmond pal. Might have to do that again some time soon me thinks...

October - not much on the go here. Red Crossing again - a healthy balance of training and duties. By the end of this month I was a pro in manual handling and buzzing people with highly electric pads. Always an interesting topic to bring up in conversation.
There was also Karen's 18th birthday party - drunken banter galore with Emzie, coupled with the drunken creation of a probably-not-so-brand-new cocktail... ah dear me.
Not forgetting a brief trip to visit Stirling University, after which I decided I'd rather go to the Highland campus, one benefit being that I could keep up Red Cross stuff in Inversneckie and Elgin on the odd occasion too.

November - relatively busy month; a month for bonfire night duties anyway...well, obviously!
More training, more events, Caitlind's little birthday surprise (lol!) and a most memorable moment - the beginning of the first nursing placement. Community nursing, Health Visitors, working with the practice nurses, all of it was valuable experience. A not so enjoyable part was the essay writing... as I said before, there's always something! Still, it was worth it, just to jab needles into a few deltoid muscles, or bandage up the odd leg ulcer. Sounds gruesome, but I enjoyed it! Heh, sounds so twisted...

December - twelve months on (that's 52 weeks, or 364 days later!) and here we are again - back to the beginning, well, almost. Placement has ended, as has the essay writing. The Red Cross duties have finally been rounded up with a brilliant joint Christmas/Birthday party, and a big thanks for all of our hard work. Of course our wonderful boss plays a big part in it too, so thanks to him. I'm now roughly 32 driving lessons on, and nearing the test with surprising speed (no pun intended) and it's back to revising for college assessments after the Christmas hols, which I should be doing right now, but unfortunately my laptop is just far too tempting.
I'm another year older, that little bit wiser, a vast amount more experienced in all realms (educational and otherwise) and I'm practically driving. Tomorrow night I'm spending Hogmanay at home, dreaming of next year when I can go out and legally get pissed in a pub, which is in great contrast to last year when I was out having a romantic stroll along Roseisle beach watching distant fireworks after nearly being forced into singing karaoke for a room-full of tipsy people I barely knew.
In short, and in true Bridget Jones' Diary fashion (but under slightly different headings);

Total number of voluntary hours spent on Red Cross duty (approx): 156 hrs and 30 mins.

Total number of first aid training hours (approx): 139 hrs

Total number of hours where things are pretty much Red Cross themed: technically every other hour of the year

Total number of hours spent working the above calculations out: 1 hr

Total number of hours spent on laptop doing random things like writing blogs: too many to count.

I hope everyone has a very happy and healthy (ha!) New Year, and I will return to writing blogs next year!!!
Roll on 2009!

Thanks to everyone who has helped me get through this year, and make it one of the most exciting and special years yet.

And so it's been Christmas...

...and what have I done?

Well, eaten a lot, drunk a lot, watched a lot of telly and slept very little.

Now that's the life, haha.

Ok, so it is a few days after Christmas (and it'll soon be time to start writing up this annual review that I'm pressing myself to do for some random reason) but I suppose it's still within the festive time and therefore not too late to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas!!!

I know my Christmas day consisted of playing happy families around a coal/wrapping paper-fueled fire place whilst testing everyone's general knowledge with a couple of quiz rounds, and an additional game of Charades (not the first aid version, sadly) and "Just Keep Humming" where (you may have guessed it) you keep humming a tune until someone names it right.
It all sounds very traditional when you see it written down, but believe me, it was fiery thanks to my highly competitive - and very entertaining and possibly slightly alcohol-fueled - uncle, who made sure he won the final round in the end.

Boxing day was something slightly different, with a meal round at the RC boss' place with a few other first aid folkies. Once again, it was the whole concept of eat, drink and be merry whilst having heated debates over the state of drivers on the roads today. I love get-togethers with the old first aid crew =]
Of course, they're more than first aiders; they're some of the greatest mates anyone could ever wish for. A family of sorts, not by blood but by friendship. Ah, it's the drink - it's making me soppy...

Anyhoo, once again, Happy Holidays folks. Will post again in the New Year, this time possibly before or on the 31st, and not several days after at twenty-five minutes past midnight.

^^

Mistletoe and Wine - a lot of wine...

My good old RC gang held the infamous Christmas party this Tuesday, and oh, what a party =]

Not naming any names, but... two people got particularly pissed, and those who were there will know who they are!

Anyway, Judith catered for the occassion, making an amazing array of sarnies, sausage rolls, cakes, savoury scones, and even a birthday cake for Charlie, who's 70th birthday we also celebrated during the festivities; technically it was a joint bash.
Caitlind and me helped with the food too, but I suppose we provided more of the entertainment factor for Judith while she baked, rather than actually cooked something... Well, I helped with the washing up - I mean, someone had to lick the bowls clean after the cake mix was scooped out!

So the party got off to a flying start (even the Banff group brought food - it was a buffet for fifty, never mind twenty!)
Caitlind, Judith and me decorated the office with Christmas deckies supplied graciously by Yvonne, so the tables that were lined with food were soon glittering with Christmas lights and tinsel. The office even had a little Christmas tree, and to complete the festive feeling even Malcom the model skeleton had a garland of tinsel wrapped around him in a glitsey golden head-dress fashion. Oh, let's not forget Caitlind's strand of tinsel pinned across the doorway, at her height, so people had to literally limbo in to the room, which was entertaining to watch in some cases.
Ronnie supplied the wine *hint hint as to who got drunk then* and we presented Charlie with his cake, present of chocolates and a fancy watch, and hand-made RC card, courtesy of the Banff group again. I think he was chuffed, bless him.
Following this, everyone scoffed themselves and drank themselves happy before the party games commenced! We played similar games to those played at Steve's birthday party, including one which involves crawling beneath people's legs... ah, don't ask.

Towards the end of the evening, the two slightly drunker members of our team were really getting wound up in the spirit of things, especially when it came to dancing along to the odd 70's rock track (yes, I joined in with the Elvis impressions too, although you couldn't really beat Ronnie's Elvis-style howl!) We played a certain singing game and first aid picture game too. Both were ace games, but made all the more fun by the hyperactive, competitive, slurred shouts of our evening's main entertainment!

And by the end of our night, I took a moment to look round the room and realised that really it was the good old gang altogether again, having a banter and a good time. Sharing the cheer of Christmas time. Congratulating each other on the success of our first aiding year. Oh, and what a year... I'm nae gonna do a yearly sum-up just yet (not quite finished with 2008 yet) but I can't help but reflect on the times we've spent together; those long weekends of duties or training, the daily events, the Tuesday evenings filled with training and general banter...the crimbo parties...the birthday parties even...and a BBQ too...

Of course, there's something else I can't help but think about; the thing is, our RC Christmas Party of 2009 will soon be round again before we know it!

Momentary boast of online aritistic talents.

Would it be lame to admit that I've just spent the best part of two hours trying to get the new heading of my blog looking relatively funky, attractive and medically-relative?

Perhaps.

Would it be fair to say that it was worth it?

Perhaps.

Would it be right to say it's actually quite snazzy and looks pretty good, in the way that "simple yet effective" can look?

Yes, me think so.

Goodnight ^^

Ranting.

To be brief, I sometimes wonder if the very basics of the Red Cross are forgotten. With the constant talk of furthering our skills and striving to reach the very pinnacle of first aid excellence, I end up thinking that the basic principle of our society is overlooked as we aim for the heights of our abilities.

Ok, I'm being a total hypocrite here; I'm trying to train to the standards of an Emergency Response/IHCD volunteer. I want to be able to turn round to someone and say, "Yes, I have several certificates in advanced skills and I can fry someone with a Defib when standard CPR doesn't quite work." I also want the legendary red boiler suit that comes with being an ER trained member. It's something I've aspired to since joining the BRC (I don't just mean the boiler suit).

However, this is where my issue comes in; this is when people start to say, "I'm only a first aider." I was told off for saying "I'm just a first aider" at a course one weekend. And it's a point - there is no "just" about it. Just because some people are trained in advanced skills, doesn't mean the one who sticks to thoroughly learning the basics isn't any less skillful than the boy in the red boiler suit with EMERGENCY RESPONSE printed in white on their back. Chances are, the ER bloke will have forgotten the pure and simple basics anyway, because they'll be too focussed on the fancy extras.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure the Red Cross was set up to deliver first aid to those who need it as soon as possible after the injury happenened. We teach the basics of first aid to the public so that people can help one another in their time of need, without having to hunt high and low for a back-dated first aid manual that's gathering dust on a shelf somewhere, while the casualty is gradually bleeding to death. Ok, an extreme example, but you get my drift; the Red Cross revolves around basic first aid training - it's what is taught and what is learnt, and we've all been a part of those most humble origins.

So, when the New Year's resolution for your local Red Cross is to work hard to advance all our skills, and become highly efficient, emergency-trained, enhanced-first aid maniacs, you begin to wonder if someone has forgotten the true principles of the BRC. I dunno, sometimes basics is better. And as I have been told before, whilst knowing all the fancy advanced namby-pamby is good and a sometimes useful spare skill, to know the basics of first aid, and know it well, is what really matters at the end of the day. After all, you're nae going to be shoving a plastic airway down every casualtie's throat, are you?

Ok, rant closed. Thanks for reading =]

Let There Be Light

Saturday 29th November - night of the monumental fuss that is the Lossie Lights. Seriously, how many festivities do you need in order to flick a light switch on?
Still, won't grumble too much; it was a really good duty thanks to the carnival vibe that buzzed through Lossie's main streets with as much pizazz as the electricity powering the sparkling array of Christmas decorations that hung from nearly every lamppost. Of course, the main perk was the brilliant take-away burger and chips we got from the nearby La Caverna; a fantastic restaurant, might I add, with the decency to scoop on a side portion of salad and coleslaw to complete the ensemble. Oh, and with complementary hot chocs too, including whipped cream, marshmallows, and a fine dusting of chocolate powder on top. Yummy =]
After our steaming hot supper (I'm drooling now just thinking about it) Helena, Judith, Caitlind and myself ambled along the street, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the entertainment. We stood and applauded the traditional Christmas brass band, and almost got pulled up on stage for our dancing talents whilst having a boogie to the dance and pop beats that pumped out from the speakers of the hyped up rides. There were Waltzers and everything. The only problem was that they charged £3 per person just to go on a bloody ride. Come on, as First Aiders surely we were entitled to a discount of sorts?!
No?
Ok then.
The night heated up even more when the crowds spotted the MacDonald Brothers waving from the roof of an open-top tour bus. Woo, the MacDonald Bros.
Please note the attempted sarcasm of my writing.
(For anyone reading this who is a fan of the MacD Bros, I am sorry; they're nice lads, but I think they've had their time in the limelight. Now, if they had paid David Tennant to switch on the crimbo deckies...)
But hey, their tunes were good, and the crowd lapped it up, eagerly baying for more.
Meanwhile us first aiders mingled in the vehicles - not only did we have Red Echo 2, but we were accompanied by the "brand new" Peugeot too. I use the term "brand new" loosely - it was slightly dilapidated inside; possible hand-down?
We even had a casualty (well, Charles and John had a casualty) a youngish lad with a suspected fractured arm. Although cynically thinking, he seemed to be putting it on a lot. I think he was just wanting to try the patience of a few first aiders for the crack. Still, I won't be judgemental. After a decent fight - lasting the best part of half an hour with additional visits from several idiotically grinning friends - he finally gave in to bending his arm (initially he couldn't do this, or even come close to it) and went away with a sling, with which he was rather pleased. He also refused to go to hospital to have it checked, cos he'd be fine, fracture or no fracture.

You just wonder sometimes.

Life in the fast lane...

What with a non-stop influx of college work, placement, Red Cross duties, driving lessons and what ever else gets thrown my way, there's been little time for sitting down in front of my laptop, kicking back with a mug of hot chocolate and winding down to type up the latest interesting account of my most recent adventures. So now, I must back date in order to keep you fully up-to-date with the latest first aiding action.

Tuesday 11th

Caitlind and me actually managed to hold the attention spans of twenty Beavers on this night, by telling them about the wonders of basic life support. Who would've thought it? It went really well too, with the little blighters lapping up the chance to have a nosey round Red Echo 2.
This was then followed by the slightly less successful, yet some how amusing, bout of training back on home turf at our own RC office. Well, it is slightly more daunting teaching folk you know then it is to teach total strangers, especially when you know fine you're audience already has a rough idea of what you're going on about.

Tuesday 18th

We made Caitlind cry at RC training that night! All because we gave her a digital camera as a birthday present - bless her wee soul, hehe.

Saturday 22nd

Was meant to be covering several rugby matches at Gordonstoun bording school, however due to snow and icy conditions, this was thankfully cancelled. So I made Christine drop me back off at the Town Hall where the Model Fair was taking place and where Charile and Caitlind were currently treating broken wrists; no joke. It was a surprisingly fun day (once again our reputation preceded us!) and we even spotted a couple of model ambulances amongst the train sets, and a rather funky fire engine with real flashing blue lights, which mesmirised us for a fair length of time and every time we passed it! Of course, we were entertained a lot of the time by playing with our newly-bought model ambos...well, it's always a laugh, trying to set up your own micro red cross fleet...yeah, ok, I know we're crazy :)

Now back to present day...

Yes, it was brief, but it's an update. In slightly more recent news, and not Red Cross related, I've reached the midway point of my first nursing placement at Victoria Crescent Medical Centre. It's been immense fun so far, bandaging leg ulcers, dressing slightly more minor wounds, watching toe nails being ripped off with big silver tongs, visiting people and working with different health professions. I've even given to injections! The first of which was to, low and behold, a nun. I think my second one was way more successful than the first, thanks to a lack of nerves, but I still have a feeling that that Sister has secured my place in hell for the time being...
Anyhoo, it's definitely been an eye opener, and it's been great meeting all the lovely nurses at the surgery, and even a rather nice fellow student nurse! I'm gonna be sad to leave really, but I still have another three weeks to go yet before it's all truly over. For the next fortnight I have to push through my EU Requirements, which entails visiting a nursery, Ward 3 and 4 at Dr Greys, and working with people with learning disabilities. It's a good line up really, and should be ace fun. Hopefully it will be, like the rest of it has been so far. Will keep this blog posted with the next few weeks of fun as and when I can.
Until then...

An over-whelming sense of pride

Today was, of course, Remembrance Sunday.
So what better way to spend it than representing the respects of a most beloved world-known first aid organisation.
Caitlind, Shona, Christine and myself paid our respects at two Remembrance services; the first in Forres, the second in Keith.
After a warming cuppa at Shona's we headed down to Forres High Street to join the march there, where we brought up the rear of the parade. Caitlind and me very bravely decided to lay the wreath down ourselves, in front of many staring eyes, might I add. So we marched through Forres down to the statue and, because we were last in the parade, we were last to place our wreath upon the statue's aged remembrance plaque. It was a moment of immense pride, and that's what caught me most. The service as a whole was pretty emotional, and the purpose for which we were there just intensified it. To be a part of something that honors the veterans of war and those who died for their Queen and Country so that we may live freely in what was to them a distant future, is just asking for a tidal wave of emotion to well up inside you. To know that you're representing the one thing you're truly passionate about in doing so is what gets the water works on the verge of going. We stepped forwards, just us two, with Shona and Christine watching on the edge of the Guides squadron, and as we did so we caught the whispers of, "Ah, the British Red Cross are here too," which, personally, I found really increased the sense of pride in me. I also felt my pulse go up at a rate of knots; something which I definitely knew was happening in Caitlind as well. We climbed the stone steps together and Caitlind placed the wreath gently down upon the statue's base, then we stood back and bowed our heads in a silent salute to the names of those who died for "glory."
Once it was over and we had rejoined our fellow first aiders, the parade marched back through Forres and before we knew it, it was all over.
The four of us were frozen solid by the end of it, but there was no time to stop for a rest; it was back to the cars, turn up the heating, and speed on to Keith to get there in time for our second service.
We joked that our trips were resembling something along the lines of "Red Cross on Tour" and it could have been really, if we'd travelled to any more Remembrance services. Although I suppose there's only so many you can fit in in one day!
Anyhoo, we sped through to Keith and popped round to Alan and Kathleen's house for yet another cuppa, before heading down to the Legion (Alan and Kathleen are ace first aiders, for those of you who don't them...as are Shona and Christine, both of whom are a part of the Elgin RC branch - just thought I'd better make it clear for those who don't know who I'm on about!)
Keith's parade seemed a lot more...meh, formal, I suppose. The atmosphere was more serious in comparison with Forres, but maybe that was because there was six of us from the BRC this time, and we weren't stuck at the back. Instead we were slightly more within the parade, behind the T.A and air cadets. They proved helpful in keeping the time for the march, as did Kathleen, who's marching skills from her army days clearly haven't left her! The walk was longer too, and the crowds stood on either side of the road in almost total silence as we passed by, which really made the atmosphere all the more...sincere.
What was really ace though was the fact that us six British Red Cross volunteers, all wearing bright neon yellow, red-shouldered jackets with EMERGENCY RESPONSE TEAM displayed on their backs beneath the usual BRCS sign, were marching right in front of a team of St Andrew First Aiders, all clad in black. The only thing that out-did us slightly was their fancy-pants St Andrew's flag which they carried rather proudly.
Quick disclaimer: the British Red Cross and St Andrews, and come to think of it, St John, all work in harmony with one another as we are out there to do the same job, which is of course to preserve life and prevent the worsening of injury or sickness and be a comforting sign to the public, who we support in their time of need. Therefore there is no conflict between each first aid society; we support one another and take equal pride in our positions............it's just everyone knows the British Red Cross is better.
Anyhoo, moving swiftly on...
I knew there was a reason behind wearing our ER jackets today. Obviously it was just a ploy to try and fill St Andrews with envy of our amazingly cool, important-looking uniform. I know they eyed up my boiler suit when Caitlind and me walked through the bar area of the Legion, where everyone sat before heading out to join the forming procession.
Actually, that was quite funny, cos, if you can picture the scene for a moment: on one side of the room, there sat six BRC first aiders, in bright uniforms that you can see from several miles away, and on the other side of the room, there sat six or so St Andrew volunteers, dressed primly in their smart black outfits that would have fitted in at a funeral procession (I suppose you can guess who might've fitted in better with the march, on reflection). But it was almost like first aid team on first aid team. It felt like we were eyeing each other up at points; trying to work out who had the better uniform. I know us lot conversed over St Andrew's peak-rimmed caps. Not out of jealousy, by the way. I'd much rather just stick with the highly fluorescent jacket.
Perhaps I should leave this part of the blog post at that - I don't want to start anything here, or at least encourage anything that's been going on already.
So, the march through Keith was ace; was loving the regimental style. Maybe I should join the army, just for the marching...
What was also cool was when each leader of each squadron called to their group to "salute" to the important people (I'm nae uber knowledgeable of Remembrance Services really) and Alan actually shouted, "Red Cross, eyes right!" This order is pretty self explanatory - you turn your head to the right during the march as a salute to the important folk. To me, this was cool, cos everyone else got to do it in Forres when their leader shouted it, a part from us lot at the back, cos we just copied the Guides who copied the folk in front, which consequently meant no one shouted for us. It was just kinda ace cos it gave the RC some recognition in the march. As if our neon hi vis weren't recognition enough, ha.
The final 'perk' - if you want to call it that - of Keith's Remembrance Service was the third cup of tea that we got back at the Legion after the procession, with a sausage roll on the side. Notice the "a" - yes, we only got one.
But we were grateful; as Alan so rightly pointed out, "Someone died for that sausage roll you know!"

*****

"Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain."
'For the Fallen'

Welcome to the College, we have fun and games

In HNC Healthcare we can get up to a lot of non-medical related stuff. Usually it begins during a lecture, and we'll delve into the topic a little bit further out with class hours. On recent reflection, I've actually found myself giggling at some of the stuff we've spoken about, sometimes in utter seriousness, and thought it was worth posting.
So far we've discussed:

The theory that eating Kellogs Cornflakes for your breakfast can prevent you from becoming homosexual, can stop you masturbating, and is a "cure" for other sexual urges that may overrun your body.
This discussion began because our most dopiest of lecturers brought it up during Sociology one day, and we were keen to find out if it was true or not. The theory coming into existence is true, but not so sure if the actual statement is.

Scarlet magazine is not a porn mag for women, and is just a magazine which is highly informative in the realms of sexual topics...and images.
A copy of the magazine was pretty much marketed in our class today when someone brought it in for us to take a peek at. During Anatomy & Physiology was not the best time for doing this. All I can say is thank God the mag had an innocent make-up page we could flick back to to hide its true nature from our lecturer.

And then, to complete our final day in college before placements next week, we got to prod a pig's heart and lungs at the end of A&P, just for the randomness and because we wanted to see some blood and guts. We were promised that when it comes to doing circulation, and the respiratory and cardiac systems, we'd be allowed to disect a heart or two.
I'm just gonna make a point of saying that lungs feel well spongey :)

Finally, to round it all up, Becca, Rachael and me walked into town discussing America's politics, current and past.

I think this comment pretty much rounds up at least today's exciting installment of HNC Healthcare: "Reading porn magazines, prodding about with a heart and lungs, and now we're discussing politics. Check us!"

"Hello, Ambulance Service, how can we help?"

So it's Moto X again, and it's the last one of the year. The very last Moto X of 2008 - what a monumental occasion...in a way.
It's been rather quiet so far; not many casualties - none in fact - but the day is still young.
The "Terrible Twins," Caitlind and me, are on duty together. The A Team is more like it, but Ronnie likes to think otherwise. I think it just reinforces the fact that our reputation has now grown somewhat over the past year of Moto X, and now everyone has some kind of nickname for us. Everyone expects us to come as a pair now, like two for the price of one. It's ace.
So it's been pretty slow for us too, with not much really going on.
We head back from Red Start (the radio call sign for the start line of Moto X) and mosey around Red base - that's Red Echo 6 - for a while, listening to the sultry sounds of speeding motor bikes and warming ourselves in the back of the ambo with Bis, Charlie and Dominic (he's the newbie at the mo).
But suddenly Ronnie is led away to the aid of someone hidden amongst the arrangement of vans which are spread out across the muddy car park, and at some speed. At last, a casualty to interrupt our slow and steady duty. Charlie goes along to help out, and Dominic follows to observe. So does Caitlind, but it's not long before she returns.
"We need an ambulance," she says quickly.
"Ooh, I'm on it!" I say, with, admittedly, far too much enthusiasm.
So I dialled 999 and experienced the joys of calling for an ambulance.
That last sentence was said in a tone of sarcasm by the way - I know it's hard to tell via blog.
It's an easy thing to do, and I'm sure that, statistically, every day hundreds of people will do it across the UK. But I've never dialled for an ambo before, and to be honest never though I would have to. For me it was kinda like the type of thing to note down on my list of 101 things to do before I die; you say you'd do it, but you doubt you'd ever really get the chance to do so.
Which is stupid for me to think that, on reflection, considering that I'm a first aider who does a lot of duties and deals with a lot of incidents. It was bound to happen one day.
So it happened, and the ambo came, eventually, and the young casualty with a suspected head and neck injury was carted off to hospital without another problem (a part from the ambulance technician nearly knocking his nose off with his boot as he stepped over him.)
Anyway, after the "excitement" of the incident, Moto X returned to normal and the slow and steady pace came into effect again, which is, of course, fortunate.
But what a way to finalise 2008's spur of Moto X. Something was bound to crop up really; it was inevitable that the year should have a bigger finale than just peace, quiet and several good, fair races.

Jump-starting Ambulances.

First off, if I were to write a song, I would make sure it honed the title of this blog. Don't ask why, it's just a thought that came to mind. Sounds kinda...indie-ish...the kinda title Snow Patrol or The Fray would use...anyhoo, away from my mindless digressions.

It was a very Red Cross filled weekend this past Saturday and Sunday. Saturday was focused on Gordonstoun during the day, when Christine, Caitlind, Judith and myself covered round of hockey and rugby matches. Watching the hockey game put me slightly in mind of the film St Trinians (for those of you who haven't seen it, it involves a hockey game played by posh people gone mad - can you see the resemblance now?)
Hockey was, putting it mildly, boring.
And cold. Very cold.
Judith and me were left to cover two matches, which oddly enough lasted longer than the four matches observed by Christine and Caitlind further up the drive way in the top field. I'd love to know why; where's the logic to that?
Anyway, only two casualties (one per pair): Judith and me dealt with a bruised knee and grazed elbow, whereas the other pair handled a hockey-stick-in-the-face-type injury. It wasn't as bad as it sounds; no blood 'n' guts tale to tell this time.
After lunch came the rugby match, which was far more entertaining. Not the sport, no, no. Rather it was the fact that the four of us were able to cram into the front seats of Red Echo 8, the said vehicle being our ambulance which, when not modelled in ambo form, is effectively a renault van which are commonly seen here and there. So think of the front cabin of a renault-style van and contemplate the space and leg room. Not much really, when you want to squeeze in four people.
But we did it, and there we sat, listening to MFR and sending in requests for songs from "the Red Cross Crew," and of course we observed the antics of the rugby game too.
It was really good fun on reflection, and at least it was a lot warmer in there. Caitlind was so warm in fact that her side of the ambo kept steaming up, to which she commented, "I'm just hot stuff."
It's a reasonable enough explanation I guess!
So we left the Gordonstoun grounds, with Judith and me now in the back of the ambo where we belonged, and waved goodbye to the toffs of the school. To be precise, the two of us actually surfed out of Gordonstoun, because we attempted to stand in the ambo as Christine sped over speed bumps and down the drive way. I don't know how paramedics manage to stand up in an ambulance thats firing down the road - which is effectively a traffic slalem - at high speeds. It's definitelty a skill.
The ironic thing is that it was only when we were sitting down that I was thrown from my seat when Christine broke hard on a downhill slope. What's even more brilliant is that I was filming at the time, and caught it all on camera. Yup, I have the ability to laugh at myself falling off a chair.

Back at the office, one bumpy ride later, we prepared ourself for the next duty of the day; the Forres Firework Display. Christine was away to cover the fireworks at Port Gordon...I think...and went to start Red Echo 2 when......nothing happened.
Red Echo 2 was dead.
For some reason, the battery had become flat, most likely due to the fact that someone had forgotten to turn off the radio or interior light, and over almost two weeks Red Echo 2 had gradually drained its battery life to zero.
Consequently, it needed to be jump started.
So we fetched "the Bucket," or Red Echo 6, and hauled out the jump cables, and wired the two vehicles together. Christine turned the Bucket on and...still no glory.
By this point I had dondered outside to check on the progress of reviving our beloved Thuderbird, and Christine suddenly decided to make use of me.
"Go press the Bucket's accelerator!" She cried.
So, hopping into the front seat of the rickety old ambo, I did, and after a bit of pumping on the pedal.....there was still nothing.
In the end, I got fed up with the feeble pumping of the accelerator, and with one large push on the pedal, the engine revved loudly and Red Echo 2 chugged into life.
Yes, I thought, I've jump started an ambulance!
It's nae something you get to do everyday, so I was pretty chuffed over it. Small things, I hear you say, small things. But for me, it was cool :)

The fireworks at Forres was a nice easy duty to end the day's line of events, with no casualties (a part from Caitlind who cut her thumb when trying to break the plastic seal on a bottle of distilled water using blunt scissors) and a fireworks display to wrap it up nicely. An added perk was getting a chippie supper fae the Boss, so thanks to him for buying it. I'll give him the cash for it one day, I'm sure.
Another bumpy ambo ride home and the duties were done for the day. We even got dropped off at home, so when Red Echo 8 pulled up at the end of my street and I emerged from the back of it, I got a weird look from a neighbour who was standing outside puffing on a fag. God knows what he thought; maybe he was stupid enough to believe that ambulances now give people lifts home, rather than take casualties to hospital. It's the sort of look I got anyway.

Ode to the People...

Together we've...

Walked through the mud and water, ankle deep or higher;

Worked in all weather conditions, in rain, sun and snow;

Darted past speeding bikes, through the roar of their engines;

Climbed hills and fought heather to reach the people who need us most;

Driven like maniacs to get somewhere on time;

Endured the pounding of live music in our ears;

Dealt with drink, drugs and rock & roll;

Put up with drunken jokes and jeers;

Stayed up all night to keep an eye on the public;

And still be awake for the next duty the next day;

Sailed boats, driven ambulances, responded in the ERV;

Stood holding buckets to raise money for our cause;

Trained to be the very best in our life-saving abilities;

And complained about the abnormal sizes of our uniforms;

Tested the strength of each other's steel-capped boots;

Fallen out over trivial things like the best way to tie a sling;

Moaned about the temperature, it's always too hot or too cold;

Borrowed each other's jumpers because someone will have forgotten to take theirs and inevitably need it;

Avoided the sick, blood and other bodily fluids that can sometimes get in the way;

Sneakily asked advice on how to do something before putting it into practice;

Forgotten how to do something midway through helping someone;

Protested against volunteering in a certain duty and still ended up there;

Struggled through a duty even when immersed in an illness of some form;

Shared the tears, laughter, mood swings, drunken banter and pranks;

And above all, kept the team going, despite the weather, despite the day or night, the heat or the cold, the situation at hand or what we knew we were yet to face.

Here's to the team who cover our backs and become the friends we rely on when times get tough; the people who are literally life savers, one and all.

*****

Was in a poetic/sentimental mood, so this one's for everyone out there who willingly give up their time to help others. On a personal level, this is for the amazing team of people I work with who volunteer often in order to help out the public at any event, large or small.

Clear!....-Bzz!-....fried casualty anyone?

That's the fourth module done and dusted now. In case you haven't guessed, it was indeed the defibrillator course, or to give it its proper name, A.E.D. And as far as defibs go, it was surprisingly easy.

I suppose I should explain myself for those who don't know the ways of first aid when I say "module." It's the fourth module out of six before the Trauma Management Course, so only two to go now and I'm there, hopefully!

Anyhoo, defibs. The training was ace fun actually. And the assessment was wonderfully laid back, especially as Yvonne (who was meant to be assessing me and Caitlind, seriously I assume) came dancing up to us shouting, "Help, help! My partner's collapsed!...Yay!"
As for the machines themselves, well they're pretty easy to use. It helps that they have a voice prompt talking you through the various steps of using the equipment. For example, "Remove one pad from plastic backing." It then repeats it twice. Then it goes onto the next command. It then repeats it twice again. In fact, by the time it gets to analysing the casualty's heart rate, they're probably long gone with no hope of ever being brought back to life, cos the damned defib has taken too long to explain the several steps to preparing the machine before shocking someone! Try saying that in one breath!
So yeah, the defib is a great machine which is brilliantly easy to use, but God help you if you collapse and require its help, cos you might have to be a little patient before it zaps into life.

Move It with Manual Handling

Ok, so this post is a bit delayed, but better late than never.

Last Saturday we did a Movement and Handling course, taken by our Manual Handling expert extraordinaire, Yvonne.
I'll be honest here; when you first hear you're signed up for a full day manual handling course your first thought is, "this is gonna be a looong day."
However, when Yvonne teaches it, it is indeed a long, but very good, day.
It was actually loadsa fun, and a good laugh. It involved wheeling people around in wheel chairs, which was a main contributor to the fun factor. It also came to light that some people suited the patient-in-a-wheelchair-role better than others. I'm nae gonna mention names (don't want to embarrass the poor guy!) but he looked so convincing tucked up in a wheelchair with a blanket across his knees that when crossing the road (yes, we basically had a mini wheelchair parade across the main road of South Street) that a driver actually courteously stopped his car to let them cross. This was incredibly entertaining to the rest of us. He even earned the name "Grampa" for the rest of the day. Bless.

Anyhoo, the manual handling course proved to be more entertaining than it's title lets on, but then with our Red Cross gang you can always be set for a laugh in any situation (or there abouts).

Here's an example actually; last night at our normal weekly meeting, we were thrown into the deep end of the scenario pool. With three casualties on the loose and slowly dying, the rest of us were left to make a first aid post (it had to be realistic with all equipment) and plan out our first aid patrols. When ready, we were led out by Ronnie to find and treat the casualties.
Casualty number one (well, for my patrol) was a stroke victim. And it was bloody terrifying. The acting was even better than mine, so it was pretty damn good (sorry, egotistical moment there, hehe) and it totally threw us. At first it could have been an anaphylactic shock by the inability to speak and general slobbering of our casualty. But then there was the give away of the one-sided limpness. Ok, so we've established it's a stroke. Now what?
Bit of a brain freeze when it came down to it, but once we got going we managed to deal with it. Basically you need to sit the person up in a semi-recumbent position (a.k.a the "W" position, cos it looks like a "W"...although on reflection, it's more like a slanted "N"...I digress...) and keep the side of their face leaning to one side so any saliva can dribble freely fae the mouth. Lovely, I hear you cry. Well welcome to the world of the human body and what it can cruelly do to the individual.
The next scenario was a heart attack, which, from a personal point of view, I find easy to diagnose and treat. The tell tale signs are, of course, the old pain in the chest and on left side of body. So once again its into the not-so-W-more-like-a-slanted-N-semi-recumbent position and monitor their vital signs, i.e. pulse, breathing, skin colour, etc. If you have asprin on you, then give them one Asprin tablet (I think it's 500mg, but if I'm wrong someone correct me before I go overdosing some random heart attack victim when on duty) and allow it to dissolve underneath the casualty's tongue. This way it gets into the blood stream quicker, and thusly will dissolve the blood clot quicker. But if the casualty has a history of heart problems like this, then they'll probably have their own medication to take for it. Either way, you want to call an ambulance too - don't forget the ambo! Although there's one thing to be careful of when treating someone with a heart problem. It could be angina - like a heart attack, but with one difference; with angina the pain will gradually ease when you sit them in the semi-recumbent position. The pain of a heart attack won't. If anything, it'll get worse.
Now, did you also know that another name for a heart attack is a Myocardial Infarction? Ok, I'll stop being scooby now...

Our final casualty was a spinal - yay. Spinals. That's just "apply a properly measured collar onto the casualty's neck and then give them the old heave-ho onto the spinal board." Well, maybe not so casually, but you get the general idea.

So there you have it, I've finally gotten round to posting the above stories. Admittedly part of it is very first aid manual-like, but that means those of you who know nothing about first aid will have learnt something today! And if you are knowledgeable of first aid, and find I've written everything wrong, please tell me so I can take it off and stop myself from looking like a right know-it-all ass.

And This Time, We're Gonna Get Funky!

Saturday night was party night this past weekend. It was time to glam up, dress up, and get pissed on the dance floor at Karen's 18th, which was a total banter.
Ok, so I never get totally pissed...I don't think anyway...I mean, I do remember some stuff, else I wouldn't be writing this blog now, would I?
Anyhoo, Emily and me arrived fashionably late because Spinie Hall really is a bitch to locate. I imagine it's hard enough to find in the daylight, but in the dark, it was like an enitrely new ball game. We eventually had to phone a friend (the birthday girl herself) to get slightly more detailed directions. Half an hour later after driving up and down roads which were gradually becoming more and more familiar as the evening passed, we managed to find the turn off down to the Hall.
Then it was time for the party to begin!
So let's see, the highlights I can remember are two renditions of the Cha Cha Slide, a bout of the Macarena, a big mosh pit with serious moshing action, experiencing Yager (spelling?) which is, for those of you who don't know, meant to be a shot of Yager and Red Bull. However, we lacked shot glasses and one of the vital ingredients, so we improvised with plastic cups and Kick. The fizzing concoction is then downed before you can taste the remotely cough-mixture after taste. I actually really liked it.
On the subject of coctails, Emily and me, in all our tipsy wisdom, decided to create our own mixture. We liked to think it was brand new, never-done-before stuff, but I'm pretty sure someone out there has concocted the following; a third WKD, a third Coke, and a third Bacardi Breezer (orange flavour, to be precise). What I can be sure of however, is that they didn't give it the highly inventive name we christened it. It was indeed "The Gordon and Michael Tribute" with the slogan "A little dash of genious, a pinch of idiocity, and a whole lotta love!" (For those of you who know these guys, you can decide which part fits with who!)
Now, on reflection, I have no idea why we thought of calling it that......see, that was our increasingly drunken wisdom; it just didn't make any sense what-so-ever.
Anyway, moving swiftly on...
The point is that I couldn't have been too badly out of it if I'm able to remember events to this extent. However, some of the pictures taken might say otherwise.
In the end, it was an ace night, with good food and plenty of drink in supply to keep the party fully fueled. Gotta say, it was well worth driving about in total darkness for half an hour with no idea of our surroundings. On the way back home, the only thing that changed with the said situation was that we didn't have to drive for half an hour to find the right road.

Driving Games

I think I feel confident enough to now announce to the world just how well I'm progressing in my driving lessons.
Tonight's one was particularly good. My instructor felt I was ready to try a "turn in the road manoeuvre", which I so foolishly called a three point turn. But no, how dare I, for the term is so inaccurate due to the fact that it can take more than three points to complete the turn. Ok, fair enough, so it's an infinite-number-of-points-turn instead then.
Nah, maybe "turn in the road" does sound better on reflection...
Anyway, this proved to be pretty successful. She said to me - and I quote - "you have fantastic clutch control! Perhaps we've just found your forte." The fact that this was said to someone who initially had slightly iffy clutch control and often let the car go zooming off at junctions is a sure sign that I've progressed a lot since those single-digit lessons many moons ago.
Now, on my eleventh lesson, I feel perfectly happy to drive around town on a tour of Elgin's several hundred roundabouts and tackle them with some precision. And of course, there's the perk of successfully completing my first manoeuvre. How long this success story will last is unpredictable of course - I remember my first lesson spent on roundabouts was ace, and the following one went oh so slightly downhill from there on. Of course, it's back up on the "skill scale" now. Just shows what practice can do for you!
Plus it was my first time of driving later on at night, which was an experience. Really, there was no difference to just driving around in the daylight. The only difference is, when a car comes towards you on the other side of the road, you feel drawn to stare at their headlights as they go by. Kind of like a moth drawn to the flame. And, as has been made so evident in the past, where ever your eyes go on the road, your car will inevitably follow...
But no, I didn't hit anyone, so no worries. Actually, my steering really didn't drift that much at all. Which is just ace.
So yeah, I'll be driving around in Red Cross ambos in no time now! (Well, not including the fact that you have to be 21, but let's nae get into technicalities here...)

When Hilarity Strikes...

N.B. This is the first blog where anonymity ends. I give up with fake names or avoiding names in general - it's too awkward. From now on, people's names are getting used. If you have an issue with this and would like to remain anonymous for whatever reasons, then please tell me and I'll see what I can do :)

So tonight was just like any other Red Cross meeting.
Except the fact that there were only seven of us there, and the remaining regular attendees had mysteriously vanished off the face of the earth...
...Well, maybe that's a slight overstatement, but it still left us with a declined number of people there, which kinda ruined our trainer Ronnie's initial quiz plans for that evening. He had intended on setting us a small question paper based on the skeleton, and we had to name nineteen bones found within our anatomical framework. The papers would then be handed in, and the brainy sod who got most of them right would win a bottle of wine, found left over in a store cupboard somewhere (wine in a Red Cross office? How shocking! I hear you cry.) However due to the lack of people, it became a free for all, and the wine has been left to mature in its hiding place until our RC Christmas party, when undoubtedly it'll be cracked open during the festivities.
What was also rather unusual about tonight though, was the sudden attack of hilarity.
Actually, myself and Caitlind know fine what we were laughing at - this information will be kept private for the time being! But in general it was based on our Boss's way of, well, looking. I don't mean his overall appearance, I just mean his facial expressions. Okay, so this probably sounds incredibly weird to those of you who are reading this and don't know our Boss. Basically, when he pretends to tell us off for something, he has this face he pulls that is always accompanied by a pointing finger. It's predictable, and we love it, because it really is so funny; funny because we know it too well!
So the moment came when the face was pulled and the finger pointed...and that was us. I swear we laughed for almost ten minutes straight.
In fact, it became contagious. Even Charlie (a slightly older member of our team) began to chuckle. Still, no one else managed to laugh quite as long as we did. Actually, even Caitlind beat me. It was like a year's worth of laughter crammed into the space of several minutes. By the end of it, she was red in the face and crying with the strain of just smiling so much!
Poor Ronnie however had stood there for the majority of those minutes, with a confused face and looking to everyone else in the room for answers as to why we had been struck down with some kind of laughter-itis.
And the beauty of it was that no one else could explain it to him either.
Just us, and we were too busy laughing to even breathe, let alone talk.

Someone Dial 999 - We Have an Incident...

It's late evening.
The skies are dark; the air cold and damp.
Rain falls lightly, the drops visible in the yellow beams of the halted vehicle headlights.
Engines are running, growling in the night. Onlookers watch, wondering what to do.
Call an ambulance?
The amber glow of the street lamps illuminate a most catastrophic scene outside Elgin Library.
The ambulance had been responding to a recent call when a foolish driver had come speeding round the corner of the Library building, and had collided head on with the oncoming vehicle. Not only this, but a couple of pedestrians had ran out in front of the driver to try and stop him from hitting the ambo, and had got caught in the sudden crash. One pedestrian had been knocked aside and had (in comparison with other casualties) "gotten off lightly"; she sat at the side of the road, in shock and nursing a bleeding, broken arm. The blood was gushing, and it soaked her hoodie as she sat in dumbfounded silence, not knowing what to do. Her friend however, lay limply between the snouts of the two vehicles, after bouncing off the bonnet of the ambulance and the car. The headlights highlighted her pale, bruised and broken body. She wasn't unconscious - not yet anyway - but unable to move, she remained lying helplessly on the wet cobbled road.
The driver of the car hadn't been wearing his seat belt, and had hit his head off the dashboard as his car came screeching to a halt. Across his forehead stretched an impressive laceration, which dripped with thick red blood. It was only sheer luck that he hadn't been catapulted from his seat behind the wheel.
Within the ambulance sat the pair of medics. The driver suffered a badly bleeding, broken nose and was in shock with what had just happened. Black bruisies ringed her eyes and blood stained her pale skin. Her associate sat beside her, who, in putting her hands out to stop her from flying through the windscreen, had shattered her wrist, and a section of bone was now sharply protruding through her flesh.
The scene was one of despair, desperation, and blood. A lot of it.
Onlookers gazed at the picture in awe and horror. How could this have happened? Sheer carelessness of the car driver, or of the ambulance driver too?



......



I lay shivering on the wet, damp concrete. I was trying so hard not to shiver. It ruined the effect. It was such a surreal experience, lying at the wheels of an ambulance. The headlights of Red Echo 8 glared down on me, like spotlights. Appropriate, seeing as I needed to turn on the acting skills any minute soon.
Our driver of the ambo stuck her head out of the door; "Here, Sarah, it's like that episode of Casualty that was on a couple of weeks ago! I feel like Dixie, but I didn't high five anyone!"
I laughed and agreed. The scenario really did resemble Casualty (for those of you who saw the first episode of "Farmhead Menace") when the girl had been struck down by the speeding ambulance. Only in our instance, we had a car thrown in for extra drama too.
In the car sat another member of our team, who modelled a most wonderful laceration which was filled with more wood filler and fake blood than you could shake a stick at.
Along with our ambo driver (who was beginning to slightly resemble Dracula, with her panda eyes and blood-stained chops) sat another fellow first aider, with a piece of polestyrene sticking out of her wrist to act as a bone, which had also been covered in fake blood for added effect. Beyond the two vehicles sat Raffia on a bench, who had unintentionally ended up covering her hoodie in red food colouring, and decided to just go with it cos it looked good.
We sat in our various positions, and waited for our saviours to appear.
Bishopmill's local chav population turned up for a while to watch the show - another contibuting factor to our scenario feeling like Casualty:Live and On Tour!
If they had started a riot, the BBC would have sued us for copyright infringement.
Thankfully the chav gang stood back most of the time, a part from trying to get our attention and generally nosying into what was going on.
What was quite funny was that some of them were generally concerned at first that it was a real accident. Same goes with a few members of the public who passed by; I remember one guy in particular - who looked to be a bit of a business man - walked by, did a double glance, studied the scene with a look of real anxiety on his face, and then walked away, still throwing the odd glance over his shoulder to double check that it wasn't real. I have a feeling that one day someone will inevitably call for an ambulance, out of the goodness of their hearts, only to watch as two irritated paramedics are turned away because it's only a practice scenario and nothing more. One day, it will happen.
Anyway, finally the Advanced Motor Institute folk came forth from the library where one of our RC lot had been giving a talk on the basics of first aid. It was now their turn to save our souls.
Basically what ensued their arrival was a lot of panic and anxiety as they nervously treated us to the best of their abilities. It was like that evening in March all over again, except the difference is we're not going back to Manchester NA tomorrow. Sadly. (Confused? Look back to previous blog posts in March).
Which makes me reflect on how much things change within the limited time of 8 months. But that's a thought for another post.
I have to say, I'm pretty chuffed with how the whole thing went. It was really successful, and I can't be too rusty with the acting skills these days, cos the people who treated me were totally freaked by how believeable I was. Saying that, I would have been freaked with the whole thing if I had been them, being entirely new to first aid with limited experience. The whole scenario was very realistic, and good fun to act out!
I nearly giggled to myself at one point when I heard a woman shout, "Someone call an ambulance, because the bugger is this one is actually involved!"

So members of the public, if you should go down to the park one night, and are sure for a big surprise when you come across a Red Cross ambo and a car which look to have crashed, and there are people lying "injured" all over the place, think before you take out your mobile phone and dial 999. We don't mind if you come by and look for a while just to double check, because it gives us something to laugh about later on. It also means you won't go calling ambulances unnessecarily and then having to face two pissed off paramedics.
Just remember; our Red Cross ambo drivers aren't that shoddy.
Well, not all the time anyway.

When Times Get Tough, Read This Blog

The initial purpose of this post was to be a ranting kinda post - the whole get-grief-off-my-chest-type entry.
But instead, I'm not going to be so selfish.
I've come to realise that I can use this post for a better reason.
Read on, because even though I write this with a specific someone in mind, it still puts a message across to everyone I know and love.

I'm never good at expressing myself verbally.
Ok, sure, I can communicate on business levels, as in convey my point to others in formal situations, e.g. when on duty during a rather taxing situation with a casualty, or in an intense scenario. Or when in a class discussion at college. I assume you catch my drift (I hope you do, or else what I've just said is entirely contradictable).
But when it comes to expressing myself to the people who really matter in life - where to an extent the sense of love comes into play - I am rubbish.
I get tongue tied, I get confused and anxious over what it is I'm trying to say; I really am crap at getting across anything loving or caring by word of mouth. This is partly why I'm writing it down in this blog, because I personally think I'd be better at writing love letters or romantic poetry (or in this case, soppy blog entries) than vocally explaining to someone how I feel inside.
Anyway, tonight, I realised something which I need to get across to this person.
I tried in a phone call, and I think it was a bit of a disaster. Thank God they couldn't see me. I was pacing around in the dark and the rain, red faced and burning up, trying to get across that, contrary to their belief, they are actually one of the most amazing people I know.
I say this not out of being just plain nice, or because I feel it is my duty to say so because they're my friend; I say it because it's just true, plainly and simply put.
I respect them for everything they have ever dealt with. They are stronger and more courageous than they realise. To press on, even when moments seem at their lowest, most darkest points, and even when solutions to problems seem non-existent or miles out of their reach, they cling on to some faintest spark of faith and carry on. It takes a broad back and a strong soul to carry a burden far enough before they can off-load it. It's sheer strength of personality, that sometimes they believe they lack. But I stand back and admire the strength that comes from inside them, and wonder where they hide it all! When I first met this person, they were so quiet and withdrawn, I wondered if there was any confidence in there. But there is - bucket loads - and when adversity shows in their life, they struggle on, despite how low they can end up feeling. It's just so admirable; they kinda symbolise all that it means to just carry on and fight for a decent life.
I also know that when times are lighter and life gives us things to laugh about, I can walk down the street with this person and have the best laugh ever. We can laugh about anything, even each other (best mates wouldn't be best mates if they couldn't insult each other every now and then!) We can share the same sense of humour, and tell the same jokes again and again and still find them amusing (ambo ambo!) We can find things to do even when days seem boring and slow. Together we can have such a good time, just being mates and sharing each others' company. At these times, I stand back and think about it, and realise that there are few other people who can share the same moments with me as this person can. We can be scarily like-minded some days, and couldn't be more differently opinionated the next! But what more could you expect fae a good friendship?
Then there are the times when I feel down and out. I like to remain a closed book, and hide the things that bother me. I'll only rant if something or someone really pisses me off. If anyone asks whether I'm alright or not, I'll usually answer with a positive, even when down inside something is digging at me. However such a guise never fools this friend of mine. They'll know almost straight away when something is getting to me, and will constantly persist in finding out what is wrong, claiming that "they know something's up!" Half the time they wont stop nagging until I threaten to snap at them. And even then I usually end up telling them eventually. So somehow, amongst everything else, this person finds the time to listen to my problems too. I try not to burden others with my moans and groans, but with this person I know that when life gets a bit too tough to take, I can at least let out some steam with them. I appreciate this so, so much, because even folk who seem constantly happy-clappy like me need time to bitch or find a shoulder to cry on. Even when it's something relationship related, I can rely on this person for total support, although sometimes I wonder if they get fed up with me for always going on about the wrong kinda people to have a crush on!
This person is just so special. They will say other wise, on many occassions, and I suppose there's no way to fully enforce the fact that what they think is a tad different to what everyone around them thinks. There's no pursuading them to think other wise, because they can be damned stubborn too!! But believe me, I wouldn't change them for the whole bloody world.
For a while I felt a little be separated fae the folk I used to hang around with. Of course, they're all still dear friends, but just for a while, when I left school, I wondered if things would change between us. Then I got to know this amazing person, and in a way, my life changed. They've helped me a lot by always being there, for a laugh as well as a cry, for a rant as well as a gossip. Without them I think I'd be very, very lost. They know fine I'm a total scatter-brain sometimes, and I need them to remind me of things, especially when it comes to first aid!
Which brings me on to another point. I don't care what they say - they are kick ass at first aid! Honest to God, there are days on duty when I'll stand back and think "I wish I knew what they know; I wish I'd done half the stuff they've done. I wish I had the knack of treating casualties the way they do too, cos then I'd be as good a first aider as them!"
I also think that (and this is really big coming fae me) if there were to be a paramedic chosen out of the two of us, they'd be the better medic any day. I can't believe I just pushed my pride to one side and said that, but I really mean it, else I wouldn't have said it!
But as I was rightly reminded, life isn't all about first aid. There's more to it than just the odd highly obsessive hobby.
My point is though, that at the end of it all, I honestly can't think of anyone better to call a friend.
With them I can be myself (be called a nutter, a lot) and still they won't care whether I act like a total loony or nae.
I don't lie when I say I'd be lost without them. They're more loved than they sometimes realise, and I just want them to know that (and I mean this on a strictly friendship basis, for those people out there who insist on thinking other wise) I will love them despite their negatives, despite their bad habits, despite their mood swings and crabby days. I will love them for being who they are, and I would never change them - nor ask them to change - for the whole world and everything in it.
This may seem like the most over the top blog post ever written, but every word typed on here is the truth. I love this person, because they are the heart and soul of a lot of things in life, whether they like to agree with this fact or not.

Don't ever change who you are or what you do, and don't you ever give up, because no matter how low down life sinks to, you'll always have someone there to help you get back up again.

Oh My God, it's Uniform Time...

I walked into my first lecture of the day today, quite unsuspecting of the large grey package that was about to be thrown at me by my lecturer.
It was a very large package, with my name printed on it in black marker pen.
Curiosity overtook my senses. What was in this marvelous, rather big, important-looking parcel?

Well, for you bright sparks out there I'm sure you've already guessed what it was. Don't let me insult your intelligence by holding the suspense any longer.

I looked around the class and saw a few other people had such packages too, and then it clicked.
It was my uniform.
Yes, my student nurse uniform, or to be more precise, a Stirling University Student Nurse uniform.
Along with this wonderful surprise came my Stirling Uni portfolio too, just to complete the ensemble.
So there you have it, I am now officially a student nurse, because I have the rather fetching uniform to prove it.
And by fetching, I mean this uniform consists of a white top and bottle-green (well, I like to think paramedic-green) trousers. I was a bit disappointed to find out that the white top is missing the Stirling Uni logo, but you can't have everything in life.

Oh, and for those who have bothered to read my previous blog, I have pretty much solved my dilemma and have opted to go to the Highland Uni campus, for all the previously mentioned reasons of why it would be so much better.

So, it's all kicking off now, eh?! Only another four weeks until my first placement starts (with a Community Nurse) and I have a feeling that those four weeks are gonna fly by.

Dilemma

This weekend has been a particularly long one. It all began on Friday at 5am. Just so my mother and me could get down to Stirling to cram in some shopping time.
Sad? Perhaps.
Worth it? Oh aye.
As a matter of fact I ended up spending the majority of my cash in my account on an assortment of clothes and various other accessories. Oops. Anyway, moving on...
So Saturday arrived when we trudged up to Stirling Uni to check it out. That was the main point of our little trip away; to sniff out the situation with the Uni and it's pretty bonnie, rather eco-friendly, campus. It is an extraordinary campus, with it's wide, open, tree-covered spaces and giant water-feature (well, loch) thrown in for good measure. Plus a castle situated just beyond this superb wildlife-magnet spot. And within this wonderfully nature-orientated campus, there are of course the Uni buildings. I swear to God that Stirling Uni has the best atrium ever. It had this kick ass shop which sold multi-coloured stethoscopes and tough-cuts! How awesome is that!? Well, for first aid obsessed, wanna-be medics, it is. Unfortunately the shop closed earlier than usual and I missed the opportunity to buy any uber cool medical equipment. Dammit.
Anyway, a part from the shop, exceptionally nice staff and students, and a refreshing campus environment, what else did this wonderful centre of education have to offer? Not including a Nursing course of high standards and reccomendations.
Well, to be honest, not much else.
The Stirling Uni Highland campus, on the other hand, is a different matter. In Inverness, there is yet another seemingly exceptional campus, with the latest equipment and up-to-date course materials. This is great. I also hear it has better dorm facilities (the ones in Stirling were kinda, well, grotty). It's a bonus. A definite plus is the fact that the people currently on my course in college are going to the Highland campus, so at least I'd know someone throughout my years of nurse training. Yet another major perk is the fact that in Inverness, there's a Red Cross group. And only 45 mins away from Inverness is my current (one day, old) Red Cross group. For me, this is a pretty awesome contributing factor! A close link to what I love in life is always good.
Inverness is also wonderfully close to good transport links, so nabbing a train journey to visit pals who have buggered off down to the central belt is never going to be too much of a problem.
So, let's narrow this down to a simple question - which University campus should I go to? Inverness? Stirling?
Stirling? Inverness?
Anyone got any answers for me?

On a completely unrelated topic, had another Moto X today. It feels like it's been far too long since my last Moto X experience. Of course, it was a busy one to welcome me back. I feel sorry for the new lassie we had today - she did so well to deal with the sudden influx of casualties we had. No joke, we arrived at the starting line of the race track and after literally two minutes a lad came off his bike and sprained his ankle. We had several shouts following this incident, a few of which were false alarms. Please, Moto X people, don't go waving those "Red Cross" flags and make us dash across open track mid-way through races to only go and tell us there's nothing wrong with the bloke at all. We make ourselves look like right numpties for no reason at all other wise, because we really can't run properly in steel-capped boots and with first aid kits slung over our shoulders. Plus we put ourselves in danger of being mowed over by other bikers.
So think before you beckon us over in all your infinite wisdom and concern.
Anyway, it was good fun, a good laugh towards the end. I think we gave a very warm welcome to our newbie lassie, despite teasing her and making her do the dirty work, a.k.a. filling out patient report forms (all in the nicest way possible of course!) Clearly we haven't put her off entirely because she's wanting to come back again! Which is just grand; it's always good to have an exrtra pair of hands available for Moto X, due to it's unpredictability. Some days can be so dull and slow-moving, others, like today, a bit more entertaining.

The Joys of First Aid - Teaching Experience Number One

I say "Teaching Experience Number One" because I feel - or rather fear - that my recent First Aid trainer position will not be a first and last experience. I can safely say that mine and Raffia's paths are about to merge onto a new walkway within the British Red Cross, and that would indeed be trainer-hood.
On Friday we were chauffered to Buckie with manequins in hand to teach a "Save a Lyf" course to an audience we knew nothing about. We had no idea about the environment we'd be teaching in, nor the age range of the people involved. We also solidified our foundations for the course whilst in the car on the way there. So everything was made clear in a very rushed, last minute style.
On arrival to the large stone building in Buckie's Queen Street, the initial nerves faded away. It was a Day Care centre, and we were to be presenting the course to a group of adults - eleven in total - who were a mix of carers and adults with mental health issues. What was so wonderful about this little group of people was the fact that all of them were very willing to include themselves in the course activities, and all showed an interest in what we had to tell them.
They all attempted to answer our questions (a few times successfully) and they cottoned on to the techniques of CPR and the recovery position very quickly, which was surprising, because I can remember my first attempts at both and still finding it a bit hard to grasp.
They also enjoyed listening to the story myself and Raffia told (we were told it by the guy who's now going to continue training us to be trainers - confused? Hehe) which we told at the beginning of the session and left the ending as a cliff hanger, to be continued at the end of the course. However if it hadn't been for a rather switched-on member, we would have completely forgotten to tell them the ending!
This tale is a long story, but in short is based on several car crash scenarios, each a bit bloodsy-gutsy, and the perfect story to tell as an ice breaker because kids love the blood and adults squirm at the thought. It's an all-round winner, cos it catches everyone's attention! Plus the consequences of the story throw everyone, and allows them to focus on the main principles of first aid, which are:
1. Preserve Life
2. Limit worsening of the condition
3. Promote recovery.
There, now you've learnt something about First Aid from today's entry!
Anyway, the whole course was generally a success, and we were even able to answer the questions fired at us by our audience; questions which in the majority of cases weren't even based on the topics covered in the "Save a Lyf" course. I was impressed with both of our answers - we remembered things just off the tops of our heads! I suppose that's a compliment to the dude who trains us in the first place.
So now we're set to become fully qualified First Aid trainers, all thanks to Friday's success. We received a comment from a colleague, saying that we worked well together. My reply was, "Well, they don't call us partners in crime for nothing!"
I think we've just furthered our reputation, reinforced by the fact that according to our Boss, we now have a theme tune; "Here come the girls".

No Respect at Blood Donors...

The title doesn't lie - my colleague and me really didn't get any respect from the nurses at today's session of Blood Donors. Only two out of the whole gaggle of them really gave us any thought, but even then you could tell it was still in a "looking down their nose" kind of way. One of the two only spoke because I made a rather big effort to create a casual conversation with her in the ladies' loos. Personally I find this rediculous. That, and the fact that we weren't expected to help anyone in the ways of first aid. If anyone started to bleed heavily, or fainted, then we were to help them using the basics and leave the nurses to deal with the rest. Ok, fair enough, but the nurses take their time to respond.
What really ticked me off however, was just their plain ignorance. Harsh words, yeah, but at least treat us first aiders with some respect. When we walked in this morning, not one of them said "hello" to us, even when we greeted them. Only one nurse did (but that's because she knew the drill with us; my colleague had had a run in with her before and she probably wanted to keep the peace). It was the same with saying good-bye. Not one wished us a farewell, and our thanks was a brisk "thank you ladies" as the nurse disappeared to lunch. What the hell?
We first aiders are the frontline of the frontline. In any event, big or small, the first people to respond are the first aiders of the voluntary charities, like the British Red Cross, or St John, or St Andrews. We keep the show running until the next frontline - the paramedics - arrive to take over. Then it's down to them to deliver the casualties to the staff at the hospital.
Now in no way am I saying that being a first aider is a higher position than being a fully qualified paramedic or nurse or doctor; what I am saying though is that we work hard too to protect and preserve life. Highly trained first aiders are more or less an equivalent to an EMT (Emergency Medical Technician), just without the drug administrations. So I think that we first aiders deserve a little more recognition and respect from those in the Scottish Ambulance and Hospital positions. Usually we do get a good response from such paramedics, nurses, etc etc, but today was just a joke.
They say (or at least this is what is being rammed into me in college at the moment) that nurses are to be understanding and open minded. I'd say very few of them matched such criteria today.
And saying they were under stress is no excuse; a good care worker should not let stress affect their treatment of patients and colleagues alike, and they were all being very nice to the public.

Still, after that rant I think I shall end on a positive by saying that my colleague and I were still able to have a laugh by throwing insults at each other, based mainly on our tea-making abilities. What a way to brighten up a duty which revolved around handing out various hot and cold beverages, with a few biscuits on the side.

Resus Support - having fun with your airway!

So today was the Resus Support course at the good old Red Cross office. All in all it was an incredibly well taught session (I think all who were present there would agree) and it was a good banter too; who knew airway management could be so much fun?
So now I, along with various other people who turned up today, am qualified to insert an airway (the long things that go down the back of an unconscious casualty's throat to help maintain an open windpipe, for those who didn't know) and administer oxygen, use a bag, valve and mask, use a b.p (blood pressure) monitor (both electric and traditional - ok, so I nearly squeezed someone's arm off with it, but hey, that's what these sessions are for) and am also able to monitor vital signs in relation to breathing and pulse rates. At the end of the seven and a half hour course, all sixteen of us were issued with certificates to prove we had passed the session, and we are now able to do all of the afore mentioned on duties, when need be of course, and not just when the fancy takes us. Although I imagine wrestling an airway down the throat of a perfectly alert and conscious casualty would be something worth watching.

Speaking of casualties...

"Casualty" was absolutely amazing tonight!! Even if you aren't a fan, I say jump on BBCi Player right now and watch it, because it was just...wow! The effects were just fantastic, and there was a brilliant amount of humor in there to balance well with the action and blood and fire. Yes, fire!
So seriously, just watch it if you can. I so can't wait until part two tomorrow night, cos...wow! That'll be well worth the watch too, so really people, if there is anyone out there who actually reads this, and wants to watch some really good telly, then series 23 of "Casualty" is the way to go!! It's the best one yet!

Even more too tired for words after the Moray Marathon...

Now for event number two of this past weekend - the Moray Marathon. This run was split into three categories; the first one being the full Marathon, the second being the Half Marathon, and the third being a 10K run. With six of us on duty, the day was quiet and relatively casualty-free, excluding the three that myself and my colleague had.
Each pair of first aiders honed a vehicle, with Red Echo 6 - aka "the Bucket" - joining our Elgin fleet for the day. The "Bucket" is so called because it really is like a rickety, rusty old bucket; it's old and falling a part slightly at the seams, but it's still useful. Also in the fleet was our beloved Red Echo 2 - aka "Thunderbird", or the "Bouncy Castle" - and Red Echo 8; the new Renault Ambo which isn't really that new anymore, especially as it now has a dent after the excitement of HBOS the previous day, so I should stop calling it "new".
My fellow first aider and I were in the Thunderbird on a side road leading to Lossimouth, and twice we received a call on the radio; once to say someone somewhere had stumbled and fallen, cutting their face and various other body limbs, and the second time to go and retrieve a man who had pulled a muscle and needed a lift back to the start line. On both occasions we sped off from our position at the start of the 10K run to tend to our casualties, and to zoom along the road with a sense of purpose added some excitement to our long and dragging day. Our third casualty came to us voluntarily because she had strained a muscle in her knee. Other than that, there was nothing else, with Red Echo 6 and 8 remaining quiet all day.
Perhaps the perk of today's duty was finishing an hour earlier than planned, which meant we could all go home and sleep, because all of us, a part from one, had been at HBOS, and I don't know about anyone else in the team today, but I know I was desperate for my bed and a hot bath.

So where am I now?

Sitting in front of my laptop, up-dating my blog, unable to pull myself away from checking various e-mail accounts and Bebo/Facebook profiles incase I miss any interesting comments.
I think I need to prioritise; my health and mood over my internet accounts. Or the other way round?

Yup, I'm gonna go to bed now...after I be a computer geek for one last time.

Too tired for words after HBOS...

And now to write two blog entries on the events of this past weekend, despite the fact that I am absolutely shattered now that I've finally slowed down to a stop. If things don't quite make sense, or there are any spelling mistakes which go unnoticed, I apologise in advance, and ask you to have some pity.
I shall begin with the first duty I covered with the Red Cross; a large cross country mountain bike event known as HBOS.

Setting off on the Friday evening, we travelled through to Aviemore for our briefing. Firstly we left from Elgin in one of our fellow first aider's car, and scooted through to Inverness where the Red Cross depot is for all of our various vehicles. There, we picked up Red Tango One, an old Ford transit mini bus, and continued on through to Avimore. But before I go on, I'm firstly going to explain about the interior design of this particular transit. It has three seats in the front - one driver (obviously) and two passenger. In the back there are a further four seats, all placed in seemingly random positions around the bus, with enough room to squeeze in a trolly bed. Upon this trolly bed we shoved our luggage, and because there was five of us in total, there was a lot of luggage. Therefore, it was a particularly interesting journey, because everytime we went round a tight bend in the road, or round a roundabout, everything tended to fall from this trolly bed and roll across the floor of the vehicle. This meant that myself and my pal had to lean across from our seats and hold everything in place before it went tumbling through the far side of the transit. I imagine it must've looked quite amusing to a driver in the car behind who could see us through the rear windows, with the two of us stretching to save ourselves from being crushed beneath the weight of everybody's personal gear.
Anyhoo, we eventually arrived in Aviemore at the MacDonald Highland Resort Hotel, which brough on many memories of the MacDonald Hotel at the Manchester National Assembly, but that's a previous tale we won't delve into again.
After a quick trip down to a local chippie to buy some supper, we arrived back at the hotel just in the nick of time for our briefing.
The resort was equally as fancy - and the food equally as, well, crap - and we got through our briefing before anyone fell asleep, amazingly.

The next day was event day. An early start (5 bloody o'clock in the morning) should've meant people falling asleep in their breakfasts (I know I nearly was, after only five hours of sleep) however I suppose people were kept awake by the excitement and anticipation of that day's forthcoming challenge. The previous night for myself and four fellow members had been spent in a total stranger's house, thanks to the Field Hospital nurse finding us accomodation there (obviously the nurse knew the woman, but to us she was a stranger). It had been an interesting sleeping arrangement (hence the five hours sleep) and I think we'll just leave it at that!
Anyway, I digress. That morning, after breakfast, at 7.30, myself and another Elgin Red Cross loon were abandoned in the middle of Rothiemurchus woods, at a watering station, waiting for the casualties to roll in - literally. We were there for a good few hours before we finally saw any action, and even then it was short lived. I'm not complaining; we never hope for any casualties, and it's a good sign that we become bored because it means that everyone is either fit and healthy and not needing our help, or some other First Aid patrol has picked them up further up or down the line.
Our first casualty was a young man who had knocked the scab off a previous biking wound and just wanted something to cover it up and clot the bleeding. It was quite a nasty wee leakage actually, but an alcohol-free wipe and a swab stuck down with some Micropore tape soon put a stop to that!
A wee while later, we received another casualty, this time asking if we had any heat pads or such that he could put on sore joints. We didn't have heat pads, but heat spray had the same effect. It's clever stuff actually, I'm not sure how it works, but the fact that it helps relieve pain is god enough for me.
Following this we had another bloke who'd already received first aid treatment from a previous stop, but the swab and Micropore tape combination wasn't working for him. So he removed it (he gave himself a thorough leg-waxing in doing so) and I bandaged it up instead, which seemed to do the trick.
Finally, another man wanted a heat pad, or the equivalent, for aching joints. Out came the heat spray yet again, and that was another happy customer.
In between all this, the rain thundered down, the wind blew a gale, it became ice-cold, and my colleague and I froze our high-visibility-uniform-covered asses off.
Finally, the two fellow first aiders who had originally dropped us off came back to collect us in Red Echo 2 (Elgin's very own Emergency Response Vehicle) and after helping a guy change his punctured bike tyre using our tough-cuts (101 things to do with tough-cuts; they're not just for first aid!) we found a chance to leave and drive down to Loch Morlich where the Field Hospital (Red Hotel) was located. After our first six or so hours out in the freezing cold weather conditions of water station 4, we were allowed to regain warmth in the hospital and do a spot of first aid there too.
Of course, on the way there, the four of us decided that we really deserved a decent hot beverage after all of our work out in the cold (especially myself and my colleague). So we had a very quick pit stop to grab a warm cuppa. That's as much as I'm going to say about that; if you want to know the full story, and you're not my Service Manager, then please ask and I'll tell you. Until then...

...The Field Hospital was a lot warmer than the great outdoors, and dryer too, so personally I was very happy to remain there for the rest of my duty. A few casualties came and went, but as the day wore on, they became less frequent.
The rest, as they say, is history. Some of us finished at around seven o'clock (myself included) and a part from Raffia, those of us who arrived in Red Tango One, left in Red Tango One.
We dropped the transit back at the Depot, along with Red Echo 2 oddly enough, and picked up our driver's original car. Then it was the long drive back to Elgin, and the warm comfy bed which I knew was waiting for me back home, coupled with the dry, cosy pyjamas that would replace my wet, dirty, and now ripped, Red Cross boiler suit.