Please Don't Call the Emergency Services...

Trauma.


Everywhere, bloody trauma... and a whole lotta nervous first aiders.


And who could blame them, with several near-death casualties, each watching their every move, judging their every action and reaction, decision and skill, as they faced each scenario with first aid kit by their side and PRF in hand.

Yes, we were back in the sleepy village of Clochan for the real-deal Trauma Management assessments. This meant proper blood-covered casualties, with shorter time scales and more complex scenarios to handle. But despite the tears, tantrums and occasional confusion and lack of self-belief that comes with such nerve-wracking challenges, I'm glad to say that everyone on the course passed.

It was a good weekend for letting people show off their talents in first aid, and learn new ones too. It was even more fun pushing them to their limits as we writhed in agony with broken limbs, or lay deathly quiet on the ground and unconscious to the world, or stumbled about as drunken idiots, covered in tomato soup and complaining of pain that was coming from somewhere but we weren't quite sure where (don't ask).

In fact, the scenarios looked so realistic that we needed to put up reassuring signs on the car park gates: THIS IS A FIRST AID EXERCISE. PLEASE DO NOT CALL 999.
Classic.

Now, us casualties have just been told that our trauma management weekend has in fact been booked for August *gulps*
It'll be time for a bit of role reversal as we become the first aiders, under pressure of the ever watchful eyes of Alan; thee know-it-all first aider extraordinaire who we all love =] (not sucking up at all...)
Good thing I've got plenty of time to practice then...