Kinda forgot to put a post up about this, so thought I'd do so now, before I forget the joys of that Saturday 22nd - the day of the Moto X Euro Championships.
Ok, so it happened a week ago now, but its worth a post. Basically, the day consisted of myself and another colleague sitting in the RC Emergency Response Vehicle (ERV, or RV for short, or aka the Thunderbird - yes, it has a pet name) eating, drinking, blethering, listening to MFR and having 40 winks. Ironic really, that a giant motorbike championship race thing could have no casualties at all, yet a primary school cross country had eight...anyway...
The hours dragged by, and still nothing happened. We went for a cuppa tea, met a few friendly marshals, went back to our wee spot in the middle of the woods where the action was limited anyway, and did little else except fiddle with a few of the interesting technological bits and pieces the RV has. MFR was a bit of a saviour that day; it kept us awake, surprisingly. Thank God for the radio.
MFR = Moray Firth Radio, in case you didn't know.
So a part from getting to spend a whole duty in the RV (and receiving the offer to drive it ^-^) and going for a wee drive round the countryside, and using its radio (radio-ing folk is always fun, even in emergencies) nothing much really happened that day.
Saying that, it was still a laugh, and it was still enjoyable, albeit quiet on the casualty front, which is what we want anyway.
By the way, I never did drive the RV, because my driving experience is pretty limited to only having had a shot behind the wheel once (and it wasn't that successful) and the RV is a rather expensive vehicle. Despite Yvonne's encouragement that I'd manage, I was sensible enough to say no. Damn my sensibilty...
Saturday 29 March 2008
Friday 28 March 2008
Skiving Secondary for the good of Primary
Unlike what the title suggests, I wasn't actually skiving school. Instead, I was skipping a few classes for the good of the little children who were running their cross country races in the grounds of bonnie Elgin Academy.
It was great, ditching Geography half way through the lesson, to dash off and get changed into my RC uniform I had hastily stuffed in a pal's locker earlier on that morning. As I did so, the caption came to mind of "School Girl by day, First Aider by...well, day." But it really did feel like a second side to me.
On the way up to the playing fields I also bumped into the school janitor, who took one look at the hi-vi and got a bit of a shock. At least I was making an impression.
Anyway, up hill at the playing fields, I saw the RC Treatment Centre - very fancy, and new, which meant we wouldn't have a clue as to where all the equipment was, or at least I didn't cos I'd never worked in it before. Fun stuff.
But I was hopeful the day would just be quiet - nothing serious, just a jaunt up and down the race track; four extra spectators to add to the crowd, but in uniform. How dangerous could a few cross country races be? How likely was it that loads of little primary school kiddies would come to us injuried and crying?
The answer to both of these questions is 'very'.
After the famous last words of "I'm sure we won't be very busy today" were spoken, we got a casualty, followed by another, then another, and so on. In fact, they all came at about the same time. It was a mix of sprained ankles, a stitch, a nasty cut to the knee and one rather worrying one of coughing up blood. Then there came the serious shout to a girl who had collapsed mid race with difficulties in breathing (DIB). The two slightly more experienced first aiders attended that one, leaving me and my fellow colleague to deal with the first of the sprained ankles. But then, after answering a quick phone call, she turned to me and said, "I'm sorry, I've got to go, they need back-up."
And away she went.
Ok, I thought, let's see - two sprained ankles, a stitch/feeling sick, and a lassie with a cut knee. Four casualties, one first aider. Right.
From then onwards the next half hour or so suddenly became quite busy, with worried teachers or class room assisstants to answer to, and (thankfully) very well behaved and patient casualties.
The bloody knee was cleaned out and bandaged (one down, three to go), the two sprained ankles supported and ice packs applied (another two down, kind of) and the girl with the stitch given a sick bowl and told to relax. I was in control, on top of it. And I loved it.
The 'stitch girl' was then plagued with questions from me in order to get to the bottom of her general unwellness.
"Have you ran in a race yet?"
"Yeah."
"When was the last time you had anything to eat?"
"At breakfast."
"When did you last have something to drink?"
"I haven't had anything to drink yet."
"What, not at all?"
"No."
Bingo. The most likely cause to this girl's sickness was dehydration. I told the teacher to pump her with fluids - preferably water - and made sure she rested, and if there were no improvements to come back. And of course they could take the sick bowl. They never came back, and I take this as a good sign that my diagnosis was right - the girl just needed some liquid in her.
Meanwhile, the ice packs were beginning to thaw, and I was still left alone. I'll openly admit bandaging is not my strong point, and I was unsure about what to do next with the sore ankles, although I knew it would involve bandaging of some kind.
Phone a friend - no reply; clearly they were still dealing with the DIB casualty.
I'd have to go with gut feeling - a little bit longer with the ice packs, then apply a conforming bandage. And just as I was about to apply the bandage, my mate returned to help me out with the bandaging.
With all four casualties finally out the way, I was informed about the DIB lass. An ambulance had been called, although she was thankfully conscious.
As the far off cry of an ambulance siren echoed from the end of the road, we set about tidying up the treatment centre. At least I now know where everything is in there, for the next time I'm stuck in it at a duty.
Our fellow first aiders returned, and we congratulated each other on a job well done. After a well earned cuppa tea, I was driven to the front door of the school (that wasn't due to laziness, it was due to the fact I hadn't had a ride in the treatment centre before) and said my goodbyes, before heading off to change back into the dull-in-comparison school uniform.
Of course I was asked a few questions about why an ambulance had pulled up, and what had happened with the eight casualties we had faced in total that day, and I tried not to make a big deal out of it.
My mates were totally unphased by the experience I had just gained, despite my hyped-up description to them of what had happened. I'm surprised they didn't roll their eyes and mutter "typical Sarah." So I basked in my own happiness for the rest of the day.
It was a great experience though, and a confidence boost for myself. I really had skipped school for a good cause that day.
Some people may think that I'm excited over nothing - that folk have faced worse and dealt with way more gore and tears at an event. This is true, but I'm just chuffed that I actually had the chance to gain some experience, and get a total confidence boost. I'm still learning, and I'm still working on my skills, so every little thing that happens which I have to deal with is just great to me. Besides, I thought that dealing with and treating four casualties at once was quite good, and I enjoyed the experience. It's just one step closer to doing bigger events and helping more casualties. We've all got to start somewhere.
It was great, ditching Geography half way through the lesson, to dash off and get changed into my RC uniform I had hastily stuffed in a pal's locker earlier on that morning. As I did so, the caption came to mind of "School Girl by day, First Aider by...well, day." But it really did feel like a second side to me.
On the way up to the playing fields I also bumped into the school janitor, who took one look at the hi-vi and got a bit of a shock. At least I was making an impression.
Anyway, up hill at the playing fields, I saw the RC Treatment Centre - very fancy, and new, which meant we wouldn't have a clue as to where all the equipment was, or at least I didn't cos I'd never worked in it before. Fun stuff.
But I was hopeful the day would just be quiet - nothing serious, just a jaunt up and down the race track; four extra spectators to add to the crowd, but in uniform. How dangerous could a few cross country races be? How likely was it that loads of little primary school kiddies would come to us injuried and crying?
The answer to both of these questions is 'very'.
After the famous last words of "I'm sure we won't be very busy today" were spoken, we got a casualty, followed by another, then another, and so on. In fact, they all came at about the same time. It was a mix of sprained ankles, a stitch, a nasty cut to the knee and one rather worrying one of coughing up blood. Then there came the serious shout to a girl who had collapsed mid race with difficulties in breathing (DIB). The two slightly more experienced first aiders attended that one, leaving me and my fellow colleague to deal with the first of the sprained ankles. But then, after answering a quick phone call, she turned to me and said, "I'm sorry, I've got to go, they need back-up."
And away she went.
Ok, I thought, let's see - two sprained ankles, a stitch/feeling sick, and a lassie with a cut knee. Four casualties, one first aider. Right.
From then onwards the next half hour or so suddenly became quite busy, with worried teachers or class room assisstants to answer to, and (thankfully) very well behaved and patient casualties.
The bloody knee was cleaned out and bandaged (one down, three to go), the two sprained ankles supported and ice packs applied (another two down, kind of) and the girl with the stitch given a sick bowl and told to relax. I was in control, on top of it. And I loved it.
The 'stitch girl' was then plagued with questions from me in order to get to the bottom of her general unwellness.
"Have you ran in a race yet?"
"Yeah."
"When was the last time you had anything to eat?"
"At breakfast."
"When did you last have something to drink?"
"I haven't had anything to drink yet."
"What, not at all?"
"No."
Bingo. The most likely cause to this girl's sickness was dehydration. I told the teacher to pump her with fluids - preferably water - and made sure she rested, and if there were no improvements to come back. And of course they could take the sick bowl. They never came back, and I take this as a good sign that my diagnosis was right - the girl just needed some liquid in her.
Meanwhile, the ice packs were beginning to thaw, and I was still left alone. I'll openly admit bandaging is not my strong point, and I was unsure about what to do next with the sore ankles, although I knew it would involve bandaging of some kind.
Phone a friend - no reply; clearly they were still dealing with the DIB casualty.
I'd have to go with gut feeling - a little bit longer with the ice packs, then apply a conforming bandage. And just as I was about to apply the bandage, my mate returned to help me out with the bandaging.
With all four casualties finally out the way, I was informed about the DIB lass. An ambulance had been called, although she was thankfully conscious.
As the far off cry of an ambulance siren echoed from the end of the road, we set about tidying up the treatment centre. At least I now know where everything is in there, for the next time I'm stuck in it at a duty.
Our fellow first aiders returned, and we congratulated each other on a job well done. After a well earned cuppa tea, I was driven to the front door of the school (that wasn't due to laziness, it was due to the fact I hadn't had a ride in the treatment centre before) and said my goodbyes, before heading off to change back into the dull-in-comparison school uniform.
Of course I was asked a few questions about why an ambulance had pulled up, and what had happened with the eight casualties we had faced in total that day, and I tried not to make a big deal out of it.
My mates were totally unphased by the experience I had just gained, despite my hyped-up description to them of what had happened. I'm surprised they didn't roll their eyes and mutter "typical Sarah." So I basked in my own happiness for the rest of the day.
It was a great experience though, and a confidence boost for myself. I really had skipped school for a good cause that day.
Some people may think that I'm excited over nothing - that folk have faced worse and dealt with way more gore and tears at an event. This is true, but I'm just chuffed that I actually had the chance to gain some experience, and get a total confidence boost. I'm still learning, and I'm still working on my skills, so every little thing that happens which I have to deal with is just great to me. Besides, I thought that dealing with and treating four casualties at once was quite good, and I enjoyed the experience. It's just one step closer to doing bigger events and helping more casualties. We've all got to start somewhere.
Saturday 15 March 2008
You know you've been...
This is a post I found on Bebo, and which I promptly put on mine. Now I've decided to transfer it to here, because some of the points said actually amuse me and I'd like to keep a note of it on the blog. Although I'll admit there are parts of it which I don't quite get...
You know you have been in the Red Cross for too long when...
· You've put more into the training night tea kitty than you have into your pension.
· You no longer watch sporting events to see the scores but to see how the medical crews handle the accidents.
· You refer to motorcyclists as "organ donors".
· Your Hi-Viz is no longer Day-Glo yellow but faded in the sun to dishwater white.
· You stop looking at clothing for fashion, and look at it for function and durability.
· Reflective clothing patches become a searched-for fashion plus.
· Your Christmas wish list only includes items from Britcross, SP and Laerdal catalogues.
· You have a pet name for your defib.
· Your spouse/partner has his/her hands on you but it's to practice body checks, not passion.
· Matters of the heart refer to CPR and not romance.
· You put your shoes on as soon as your home phone rings.
· You refer to "Blues & Twos", "999" and "Casualty" as "educational television".
· Your greatest fear in life involves a pregnant woman shouting; "IT'S COMING!"
You know you have been on duty for too long when...
· You're unable to eat because everytime you grab lunch several casualties come along at once.
· You believe that unspeakable evils will befall you if anyone says, "it's really quiet".
· Your idea of a great meal is one that's warm.
· You've been thinking up ways to convert a wheelchair into a dune buggy.
· You get very, very scared when a child is "too" quiet.
· You are convinced that the amount of complaining by a patient is inversely proportional to how sick they are.
· You've ever said (to anyone) "so, did you find the finger?"
· You've ever wanted to put a notice in the First Aid post saying: "If you are moody, irritable or just plain rude, there will be a £10 surcharge for putting up with you".
· You automatically multiply by two the answer to the question "how many drinks did you have today?"
· You automatically multiply by three the answer to the question "how many cigarettes did you have today?"
· Your own dog won't let you into the family house because it no longer recognises you.
· You won't let your own dog into the family house because you no longer recognise it.
· You are the only one at the dinner table NOT allowed to talk about your day.
· Your greatest fear in life still involves a pregnant woman shouting, "IT'S COMING!"
You know you have been in Ambulance Aid for too long when...
· You park backwards on your driveway ready for a "rapid emergency response".
· You don't drink because you "are always on call".
· Your car is red.
· Your car is white.
· Your car is red and white.
· Your car is red and white with reflective stripes.
· You wash an ambulance every weekend but haven't washed your car for years.
· Your car's expired parking permit is covered with a Geneva cross.
· Your car's expired Road Tax is covered with a "Star of Life".
· It's not a car it's an "emergency incident response vehicle".
· Your car has multiple radio aerials (bonus points for more antennas than a Russian trawler)
· You talk more on the radio than a DJ does.
· You correct Control over the air on how to dispatch units.
· Your personal kit is bigger than the one on the ambulance.
· You carry a stethoscope on your car's rear view mirror.
· You even have personalised road cones.
· You have more on your belt than you do in your snatch-pack.
· You use a 5-cell Maglite to check pupil response.
· You've ever thought, "as long as he's got a pulse, I won't worry about that rhythm."
· Your greatest fear in life still involves a pregnant woman shouting; "IT'S COMING!"
You know your qualifications have expired when...
· The certificate arrives in the post.
· The "new" First Aid Manual is so big that it published on microfiche and CD-ROM.
You know you have been in the Red Cross for too long when...
· You've put more into the training night tea kitty than you have into your pension.
· You no longer watch sporting events to see the scores but to see how the medical crews handle the accidents.
· You refer to motorcyclists as "organ donors".
· Your Hi-Viz is no longer Day-Glo yellow but faded in the sun to dishwater white.
· You stop looking at clothing for fashion, and look at it for function and durability.
· Reflective clothing patches become a searched-for fashion plus.
· Your Christmas wish list only includes items from Britcross, SP and Laerdal catalogues.
· You have a pet name for your defib.
· Your spouse/partner has his/her hands on you but it's to practice body checks, not passion.
· Matters of the heart refer to CPR and not romance.
· You put your shoes on as soon as your home phone rings.
· You refer to "Blues & Twos", "999" and "Casualty" as "educational television".
· Your greatest fear in life involves a pregnant woman shouting; "IT'S COMING!"
You know you have been on duty for too long when...
· You're unable to eat because everytime you grab lunch several casualties come along at once.
· You believe that unspeakable evils will befall you if anyone says, "it's really quiet".
· Your idea of a great meal is one that's warm.
· You've been thinking up ways to convert a wheelchair into a dune buggy.
· You get very, very scared when a child is "too" quiet.
· You are convinced that the amount of complaining by a patient is inversely proportional to how sick they are.
· You've ever said (to anyone) "so, did you find the finger?"
· You've ever wanted to put a notice in the First Aid post saying: "If you are moody, irritable or just plain rude, there will be a £10 surcharge for putting up with you".
· You automatically multiply by two the answer to the question "how many drinks did you have today?"
· You automatically multiply by three the answer to the question "how many cigarettes did you have today?"
· Your own dog won't let you into the family house because it no longer recognises you.
· You won't let your own dog into the family house because you no longer recognise it.
· You are the only one at the dinner table NOT allowed to talk about your day.
· Your greatest fear in life still involves a pregnant woman shouting, "IT'S COMING!"
You know you have been in Ambulance Aid for too long when...
· You park backwards on your driveway ready for a "rapid emergency response".
· You don't drink because you "are always on call".
· Your car is red.
· Your car is white.
· Your car is red and white.
· Your car is red and white with reflective stripes.
· You wash an ambulance every weekend but haven't washed your car for years.
· Your car's expired parking permit is covered with a Geneva cross.
· Your car's expired Road Tax is covered with a "Star of Life".
· It's not a car it's an "emergency incident response vehicle".
· Your car has multiple radio aerials (bonus points for more antennas than a Russian trawler)
· You talk more on the radio than a DJ does.
· You correct Control over the air on how to dispatch units.
· Your personal kit is bigger than the one on the ambulance.
· You carry a stethoscope on your car's rear view mirror.
· You even have personalised road cones.
· You have more on your belt than you do in your snatch-pack.
· You use a 5-cell Maglite to check pupil response.
· You've ever thought, "as long as he's got a pulse, I won't worry about that rhythm."
· Your greatest fear in life still involves a pregnant woman shouting; "IT'S COMING!"
You know your qualifications have expired when...
· The certificate arrives in the post.
· The "new" First Aid Manual is so big that it published on microfiche and CD-ROM.
Friday 14 March 2008
Red Cross National Assembly, Manchester, 2008
Well, as the title hints, this post is a wee report from the Red Cross National Assembly held in Manchester on the 8th March.
I suppose the best place to start would be on the Friday morning (the day before the Assembly), when us lot from Northern Scotland spent roughly ten hours on a bus before arriving in bonnie Manchester, or at least the Elgin crew spent roughly ten hours (we set off at 7.45 am, thanks very much). We picked up other members along the way, from Inverness to Perth, and what can only be described as banter took place along the way. It really was a good bus journey, albeit long and at points a bit boring when we ran out of things to say or do. Someone mentioned the fact that there was a 20 year gap between the front and back ends of the bus, which was true enough; the slightly older members (I'm not trying to offend anyone here) sat and enjoyed the ride at the front, whilst the slightly younger members dominated the back row (the 'boss' flitted in between, maybe because he wasn't quite sure which category he fitted into - now that was an offense, but a jokey one!). Therefore the back of the bus seemed a lot louder and we had a few film-worthy moments, which were actually captured on camera for the mini film which was to be shown at the assembly the next day.
Anyway, one lengthy bus trip later and we pulled up outside Manchester's MacDonald Hotel, and boy, was it swanky! Talk about fancy, even the reception was pretty posh (but then it did have a rather classy bar which we made good use of later on!).
We checked in and went to our rooms to dump the luggage. My room was 527 - typically, I was on the 5th floor. I say typically because whenever I stay in a hotel or travel lodge I always end up with the room on one of the highest floors. Never mind, there were lifts, however I'm not the biggest fan of lifts, and don't like to be in one alone (as some of my fellow red crossers found out). So I made good use of the stairs when I could; after all, its good exercise.
Then, after a quick drink and catch-up with the boyfriend at the bar, it was time for a bit of something to eat. After the grub, it was another chance to test the bar, and I think us Northern Scotters proved that Scots really do like the odd drink, or two, or three...and could be somewhat rowdy (I can think of some good examples of people, but I don't like to mention names on here, so...).
At midnight, myself and a few other colleagues buggered off to our rooms...
...Yeah, right. Actually we went for an extra wee drink in another member's room and continued our own little banter, before giving in at 1.30am and slumping off to bed. Now don't go telling anyone...
The next day was the Assembly. Leaving the fancy-pants hotel behind we set off down the road to arrive at the Conference Centre. You couldn't miss it - the row of Red Cross Emergency Response vehicles outside was a great give away. Inside however was far more interesting. There were two sides to this assembly - one side was the number of exhibitions in the hall part of the centre and then there was the actual auditorium area where the conference side of it took place (I'm not very good at descriptions). The exhibitions were all great, and all very interesting. Each stand showed you the various parts of the Red Cross; there were stalls which displayed parts of the Red Cross that I didn't realise existed. It was an eye-opener.
The conference side to it was even better. The man in charge himself, Sir Nick Young, along with various other people all high up in the ranks of the RC, gave brilliant presentations, as well as the regular volunteers who went up to present their side of working in the RC. It gave such a great insight into what the RC actually is, and the things that we do nationally and internationally. It rekindled some faith in humanity, that there were so many willing volunteers out there who wanted to help make a difference during and after a crisis, no matter how large or small.
The work of the RC is never ending, and each penny that goes into this magnificent organisation is put to good use, either into training schemes, or buying new equipment, and so on, so forth. You may think I'm being biased, but really, if you want to know the true side of the RC, then the National Assembly is the place to go. Maybe the RC should host other similar exhibitions for the public to go along to, and that way they find out more and awareness of the RC is increased. I'm sure similar things do happen, but if the events were made more, well, eventful, people might be more encouraged to go along. Who knows, we may even rig up some more willing volunteers.
Anyway, the Assembly really did make me feel proud for being a part of such an amazing organisation. I know not everything in the RC is hunky-dorey; things could be better. But to see so many people all there for the same reason - to support the RC - and to know that all the people were with the RC to help and care for people in a crisis, really plucked at the old heartstrings and filled me with an inner sense of pride. Check me getting all patriotic...
Unfortunately, all good things come to an end - the assembly was no exception. We clambered back on board the bus, waved Manchester good bye, and endured another ten hour ride home. The bus pulled into Elgin at 2am.
Enough said, it was time for bed.
I suppose the best place to start would be on the Friday morning (the day before the Assembly), when us lot from Northern Scotland spent roughly ten hours on a bus before arriving in bonnie Manchester, or at least the Elgin crew spent roughly ten hours (we set off at 7.45 am, thanks very much). We picked up other members along the way, from Inverness to Perth, and what can only be described as banter took place along the way. It really was a good bus journey, albeit long and at points a bit boring when we ran out of things to say or do. Someone mentioned the fact that there was a 20 year gap between the front and back ends of the bus, which was true enough; the slightly older members (I'm not trying to offend anyone here) sat and enjoyed the ride at the front, whilst the slightly younger members dominated the back row (the 'boss' flitted in between, maybe because he wasn't quite sure which category he fitted into - now that was an offense, but a jokey one!). Therefore the back of the bus seemed a lot louder and we had a few film-worthy moments, which were actually captured on camera for the mini film which was to be shown at the assembly the next day.
Anyway, one lengthy bus trip later and we pulled up outside Manchester's MacDonald Hotel, and boy, was it swanky! Talk about fancy, even the reception was pretty posh (but then it did have a rather classy bar which we made good use of later on!).
We checked in and went to our rooms to dump the luggage. My room was 527 - typically, I was on the 5th floor. I say typically because whenever I stay in a hotel or travel lodge I always end up with the room on one of the highest floors. Never mind, there were lifts, however I'm not the biggest fan of lifts, and don't like to be in one alone (as some of my fellow red crossers found out). So I made good use of the stairs when I could; after all, its good exercise.
Then, after a quick drink and catch-up with the boyfriend at the bar, it was time for a bit of something to eat. After the grub, it was another chance to test the bar, and I think us Northern Scotters proved that Scots really do like the odd drink, or two, or three...and could be somewhat rowdy (I can think of some good examples of people, but I don't like to mention names on here, so...).
At midnight, myself and a few other colleagues buggered off to our rooms...
...Yeah, right. Actually we went for an extra wee drink in another member's room and continued our own little banter, before giving in at 1.30am and slumping off to bed. Now don't go telling anyone...
The next day was the Assembly. Leaving the fancy-pants hotel behind we set off down the road to arrive at the Conference Centre. You couldn't miss it - the row of Red Cross Emergency Response vehicles outside was a great give away. Inside however was far more interesting. There were two sides to this assembly - one side was the number of exhibitions in the hall part of the centre and then there was the actual auditorium area where the conference side of it took place (I'm not very good at descriptions). The exhibitions were all great, and all very interesting. Each stand showed you the various parts of the Red Cross; there were stalls which displayed parts of the Red Cross that I didn't realise existed. It was an eye-opener.
The conference side to it was even better. The man in charge himself, Sir Nick Young, along with various other people all high up in the ranks of the RC, gave brilliant presentations, as well as the regular volunteers who went up to present their side of working in the RC. It gave such a great insight into what the RC actually is, and the things that we do nationally and internationally. It rekindled some faith in humanity, that there were so many willing volunteers out there who wanted to help make a difference during and after a crisis, no matter how large or small.
The work of the RC is never ending, and each penny that goes into this magnificent organisation is put to good use, either into training schemes, or buying new equipment, and so on, so forth. You may think I'm being biased, but really, if you want to know the true side of the RC, then the National Assembly is the place to go. Maybe the RC should host other similar exhibitions for the public to go along to, and that way they find out more and awareness of the RC is increased. I'm sure similar things do happen, but if the events were made more, well, eventful, people might be more encouraged to go along. Who knows, we may even rig up some more willing volunteers.
Anyway, the Assembly really did make me feel proud for being a part of such an amazing organisation. I know not everything in the RC is hunky-dorey; things could be better. But to see so many people all there for the same reason - to support the RC - and to know that all the people were with the RC to help and care for people in a crisis, really plucked at the old heartstrings and filled me with an inner sense of pride. Check me getting all patriotic...
Unfortunately, all good things come to an end - the assembly was no exception. We clambered back on board the bus, waved Manchester good bye, and endured another ten hour ride home. The bus pulled into Elgin at 2am.
Enough said, it was time for bed.
Sunday 2 March 2008
Red Cross Moto X
Today was a pretty good day. At least the good old Red Cross duty was.
It was a large turn out at the Moto X (for those of you who don't know what Moto X is, it's a motorbike race, with various categories to it, etc etc. For those of you who do know what it is, you'll probably know more about it than me; all I know is it involves a lot of very noisey dirt bikes).
At first we thought we'd be quite lucky with the casualties - we had none in the morning. It was only in the afternoon when things kicked off a little. It was typical, my 'co-worker' and I got called to our first casualty when I was waiting in the queue of the chip bar to get a hot choccie and a burger...knew it was too good to be true.
It's not uncommon for all the casualties to suddenly appear the moment we go out to grab some lunch, or in this case just something to eat/drink in general. When I did get the chance to return later for my hot choc and item of food, there was no hot choc left, and I was too past it for a burger, so I had a cuppa tea and a Kitkat instead. Of course, when it came to sitting down and drinking/eating this, we got another casualty with a foreign object in his eye. I returned to my tea later on to find it was cold. Still, I'm not as bad as some people, for example my boyfriend is jinxed when it comes to eating on duty; it just doesn't happen for him.
So, the first casualty was a 14 year old girl who had come off her bike mid-race and landed on her elbow. She complained of it being very painful (no surprise there) and she was unable to straighten it without causing a lot of pain. There was some swelling over the bone, and my co-worker suggested it may be fractured. This meant she would have to get it x-rayed to double check that everything was alright. So on went the ice pack to reduce the swelling, and muggins here got to treat her first casualty, by placing the casualty's injured arm in a sling, and securing it with a broadfold bandage so it wouldn't bump around too much on the way to hospital. So, one job done well. Then came another young lad with a swollen knee, another with a headache, the dude with the foreign object in his eye, and last but not least a young girl who requested a plaster for her knee she had promptly cut open (just before we were about to leave for home - another typical occurance). There were other casualties, I'm sure, but these are the ones I helped treat, or filled in PRFs for (patient report forms).
We had a few good laughs throughout the day though, which always makes a duty on a cold, wet day all the more manageable. I'm pretty pleased that I've finally had the chance to help treat a real casualty - it's about time!
However there's a slight problem which is dampening my day - my rabbit is pretty ill. Now this may sound like a pretty petty thing to get upset over, but if your nine-month old rabbit suddenly took an allergic reaction to her booster jab and is now at death's door, you'd be pretty damned upset too.
It was a large turn out at the Moto X (for those of you who don't know what Moto X is, it's a motorbike race, with various categories to it, etc etc. For those of you who do know what it is, you'll probably know more about it than me; all I know is it involves a lot of very noisey dirt bikes).
At first we thought we'd be quite lucky with the casualties - we had none in the morning. It was only in the afternoon when things kicked off a little. It was typical, my 'co-worker' and I got called to our first casualty when I was waiting in the queue of the chip bar to get a hot choccie and a burger...knew it was too good to be true.
It's not uncommon for all the casualties to suddenly appear the moment we go out to grab some lunch, or in this case just something to eat/drink in general. When I did get the chance to return later for my hot choc and item of food, there was no hot choc left, and I was too past it for a burger, so I had a cuppa tea and a Kitkat instead. Of course, when it came to sitting down and drinking/eating this, we got another casualty with a foreign object in his eye. I returned to my tea later on to find it was cold. Still, I'm not as bad as some people, for example my boyfriend is jinxed when it comes to eating on duty; it just doesn't happen for him.
So, the first casualty was a 14 year old girl who had come off her bike mid-race and landed on her elbow. She complained of it being very painful (no surprise there) and she was unable to straighten it without causing a lot of pain. There was some swelling over the bone, and my co-worker suggested it may be fractured. This meant she would have to get it x-rayed to double check that everything was alright. So on went the ice pack to reduce the swelling, and muggins here got to treat her first casualty, by placing the casualty's injured arm in a sling, and securing it with a broadfold bandage so it wouldn't bump around too much on the way to hospital. So, one job done well. Then came another young lad with a swollen knee, another with a headache, the dude with the foreign object in his eye, and last but not least a young girl who requested a plaster for her knee she had promptly cut open (just before we were about to leave for home - another typical occurance). There were other casualties, I'm sure, but these are the ones I helped treat, or filled in PRFs for (patient report forms).
We had a few good laughs throughout the day though, which always makes a duty on a cold, wet day all the more manageable. I'm pretty pleased that I've finally had the chance to help treat a real casualty - it's about time!
However there's a slight problem which is dampening my day - my rabbit is pretty ill. Now this may sound like a pretty petty thing to get upset over, but if your nine-month old rabbit suddenly took an allergic reaction to her booster jab and is now at death's door, you'd be pretty damned upset too.
Saturday 1 March 2008
A nice combination
Well, today proved to be a more interesting Saturday than the last. I decided to check if the Red Cross training day could use an extra casualty - I was in luck.
So I was done up in make up, and given bruises, blood and open fractures. I even 'performed' a heart attack at the end, just for a change. It was the first time I'd ever been a casualty in a simulation, and it was great fun. Us casualties had a great laugh, and a fine blether. I wouldn't say no to doing it again. It was a mix of drama and first aid - a nice combination.
The only problem was actually removing the false wounds at the end of it.
So, duty number four tomorrow - moto x, woo hoo! No doubt I'll find a time to write about that tomorrow.
So I was done up in make up, and given bruises, blood and open fractures. I even 'performed' a heart attack at the end, just for a change. It was the first time I'd ever been a casualty in a simulation, and it was great fun. Us casualties had a great laugh, and a fine blether. I wouldn't say no to doing it again. It was a mix of drama and first aid - a nice combination.
The only problem was actually removing the false wounds at the end of it.
So, duty number four tomorrow - moto x, woo hoo! No doubt I'll find a time to write about that tomorrow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
