Up-dates...shall we start with insults?

Hmm, well, I think I need to up-date this thing more often, cos now I have to remember what has actually happened in the past that may well have been worth noting down at some point.
I know a good topic to start with actually......insults.
Work and being insulted go together hand in hand when it comes to this particular Nursing Home job.
Here's a personally-experienced example - one of the residents has to go to the hair dressers one afternoon. This client doesn't like the hairdressers, but she has to go else she'll end up looking neglected with Ozzy Ozborne-style hair. This is cool for some, but nae appropriate for an eighty-something year old. So I go in to her room and tell her she has to go downstairs (her room was on the top floor) to get her "scalp examined". Calmly and quietly she agrees and tries to get herself up out of her chair. I go to help her, and instantly she sits back down again, claiming she can't do it. The ensuing conversation went a bit like this:
"Now Mildred*, you can get up, you were almost there. Look, I'll help you."
"Send them up to me," she said sharply.
"They can't come up the stairs, you have to go to them."
"Why can't they? Why should I?"
"Because...because they have all their equipment and stuff. And it'll be good for you to get out of your room for a while. Surely you don't want to be cooped up in your room all day?"
Mildred sniffs indignantly and watches the telly from over my shoulder. I already know I'm not in her good books, but she's definitely nae in mine now. The hairdresser was getting impatient as it was - Mildred's antics were only further holding up the proceedings.
"There's some good stuff on the t.v," she continued in a rather ignorant tone.
"Listen Mildred, you have to come downstairs for now, but after lunch myself or one of the other carers will take you back up to your room. Is that ok?"
"I do like this programme."
"Mildred?"
"I'm not listening."
So I turned round and switched the t.v off. This was followed by:
"I know why you did that! To make you feel BIG!!"
I didn't say anything during the verbal on-slaught that was flung at me, but on this remark I did think, "hardly, when I can turn a t.v on or off any time I want."
Eventually the continuous stream of insults ended with a stroppy "Get out of my room, go on, get out!!" She then raised her fist to me and I knew it was time to back off.
So I did what I was told and bumped into the head nurse of the floor, who promptly asked, "What happened?"
My reply?
"Mildred, that's what happened."
I then left for my lunch break half an hour late.

Of course, this was only the beginning.

Later on I was in charge of the lounge area, and was having quite good fun playing a quiz game with the old biddies present there. They seemed to be having fun too, and everything was just hunky-dorey...
...that is, until Mildred appeared in the door way. Amazingly, someone had coaxed her out of her room. Either that, or had used brute force.
But there she was, as calm and collected as any decent elderly lady. And she was smiling as she walked in.
I smile back at her; "Come on in Mildred, there's a seat on the sofa here for you if you want."
So she sits down and makes herself comfortable.
See, the beauty of most argumentative situations involving elderly people and carers is that the residents usually have some form of dementia, and any previous tense moments are forgotten by at least one side of the argument.
Mildred, like most residents, has dementia, and quite a bad case. She is forgetful, and often very aggressive with it. It wouldn't be the first time that she's whacked a carer across the face before.
Anyway, returning to the lounge. I asked a question based on religion - the answer being Islam - and the answers I got from the clients were close, but nae close enough.
"Iran?" One said.
"No, that's a country," I thought.
"Iraq?" Said another.
"That's where you belong!!" Sounded a harsh, familiar voice.
I turned to Mildred and stared.
"I beg your pardon?"
"That's where you belong - right out of the way in Iraq!"
Em, ok then, I thought , and looked around the room. A few clients gasped at the remark and tutted.
"I hardly think that's...appropriate, Mildred," I said sternly.
But Mildred just sniffed disapprovingly and looked the other way. Clearly her dementia hadn't blocked out our previous tiff in her room.
Thankfully I was saved when another carer came in and announced that it was 4 o'clock and I could go home.
I escaped with a cheerful good bye and no doubt a killer of a look from Mildred.

Of course, there's not just one culprit in the Home. Because there are a few of the residents who have pretty bad dementia, childish insults are relatively common. However I often find that it's the residents who aren't affected by dementia, yet still need help because of physically not being capable to help themselves, that can really bite your head off. These clients tend to be the proud sort who hate to give in to us carers and our do-goodiness.

For example, Betty, who is bed bound but pretty much all there mentally. She can't feed herself, she has no teeth and so is barely understandable, and depends on us to move her every couple of hours because she's too weak to mover herself into a comfortable position. Now for a moment, put yourself in her position - how frustrating it must be to have a sharp-witted mind and not be able to put a point across because no one will understand what you're saying. The only way you can make yourself totally clear is to unleash anger when you're nae happy with something. Imagine not being able to get yourself comfortable, and having to wait on a carer to come and do it for you; a carer who who know only because they come and wash you every day because you can't do that yourself either. They come every meal time too to spoon-feed you, and you so want to do it yourself so sometimes you try to grab the spoon out of the carer's hand. Then you get angry and frustrated, and when they try to change your nightie you claw at them and yell every profanity under the sun at them in the hopes that they'll just bugger off and leave you alone.

It's sore and hurtful for a carer to face this at first, but then you realise that the insults you get are nothing personal; it's just a vent of anger at who ever happens to be there at the time.
Some insults, like "you belong in Iraq, you do," are funny and the sort you can tell to your pals the next time you're out for a meal and end up blethering about work. Then there are the insults that are really brutal, but actually say "just back off a bit, cos I'm nae liking this."
The sad truth is that, as a carer, we have our duties to do, and this does mean invading people's personal bubbles, whether they like it or not. We don't particularly like it, but someones got to do it.

So work, as ever, is an entertaining, interesting, eventful, emotional roller-coaster ride. Some things just never change.

*All names in italics are false names to hide identities. I like keeping my blog anonymous, cos then no-one can go for my throat if I mistakenly write something inaccurate or offensive about someone. It's a C.Y.A procedure - Cover Your Arse. That's something the Red Cross has taught me, although obviously for different situations, mainly PRFs**....anyhoo, I digress.

**PRFs = Patient Report Forms for those who didn't know.

Beach Banter in the Summer Sun

Yes, I have discovered the wonderful world of work. Long, particularly humid and sticky hours stuck inside a care home, helping the elderly carry out their day-to-day life, for example maneuvering, eating and going to the loo. Ah, the joys. But hey, someone's got to do it, and at the end of the day it actually feels quite good to leave work and think, "Here, I just helped a lot of people today - that's nice." And it all adds up to one big heap of experience, which is gonna look ace on the old CV. Plus the pay goes down pretty well too; £5.60 an hour isn't something to complain about really. So even though the work is hard, sometimes grueling, and sometimes even a bit of a banter, it's worth it for the pay check that comes in every four weeks, and the extra experience that's gonna put me a step ahead at college.

But of course, with all work, there are days off to enjoy too, and because I've recently been shifted to part time hours at work my scheduled weekend off ran into the four days off work that came with the new part time shifts, so therefore I got a total of six days off work in a row, which was just grand.

Ok, so apart fae the conjunctivitis and laryngitis that I got with being run down after a seven day stint of work (44 hours that week), my days off were actually uber ace, especially the Tuesday and Wednesday when my partner in crime fae Red Cross and me dondered down to Lossie beach to make the most of the scorching weather that has graced Elgin this past week.

We had a total banter, exploring the whole of the West Beach on Tuesday (it's a long beach, with a lighthouse and caves at one end) and still finding the strength to turn up to Red Cross training that night, in all our sandy glory. Then on the Wednesday we went to the East Beach instead and had a wee dip in the sea. Well, when I say dip, it was more like a battering fae all the waves. Then we dried off in the sun with a bit of sun bathing, and got brilliantly sun burnt, just to top it all off. Of course we completed our day at the beach with a picnic (you've got to do these things properly!) and a donder down East Beach to the far end and back again. We even had time and money to slip in an ice cream and an ice lolly.

So both beach days were pretty ace. Wednesday was especially banterful. On both days we got some brill photos as well - my pal's a bit of a master with the camera.

To really finish off Wednesday, we went to our Red Cross boss's house for our tea. This may sound weird, but our Boss is more like a best friend and actually we look to him as a bit of a father figure, hence we call him 'dad'.

So we had dinner with our adopted 'dad' and 'mum' and watched "Top Gear"  for a while.

It was a great way to end the day.

Sadly, as we all know all good days off must come to an end, and today it was back to work, slogging through the heat stricken care home to help the poor old biddies who reside there; bless them. Still, only another three days of work and then I'm off again for a further four days, and I get a lie-in in the morning cos my shift doesn't start till later, so really I don't have much to complain about, if anything at all.

The Woman and the Escalator

My friend and me were heading to the bakery in St Gs Centre to grab some lunch the other day (after a lot of laborious tasks in the Red Cross office, like moving furniture and sorting through several bags of first aid equipment) and as we were away to order something, we heard a screech and a clatter from behind. We looked round to see an elderly woman clinging onto the banister of the escalator, her walking stick lying at the bottom of the steps. In the second it takes to click your fingers my friend and I were in "first aider mode". I ran forwards and pressed the emergency stop button on the escalator, and climbed the now stationary steps to help stabilise the woman who was clearly taken aback by her sudden fall (no surprise like!). Meanwhile, my friend dashed off to nab gloves from the nearby 'Subway'.
Together we got a chair for the woman, and a security guard fetched us the store first aid kit, while we got to work calming the woman down and making sure she was alright. My mate noticed one of her legs was bleeding, so she cleaned it and bandaged it. The cuts and bashes on that leg weren't too bad, however as she tied off the bandage, I noticed her other leg was bleeding a considerable amount more. We rolled up her trouser leg to see a worryingly deep (surprisingly clotted) gash that was uncomfortably close to a vein. So we cleaned it again, and bandaged it (we had to use two for that wound) while a security guard brought us a wheelchair. Luckily, her husband could drive and he fetched the car while the store first aider (who had very graciously left us to deal with the incident) wheeled her away to be taken to A&E.
As soon as the woman had left, my friend and I helped clear up and then switched back into the "every-day regular person mode", returning to the bakery to do what we had initially intended to do; grab some lunch.

This incident was on the whole a rather smooth-running one. Our casualty was incredibly calm despite what had just happened, and I was awful worried that she was in shock or something, however on asking her if she felt any of the usual symptoms (dizziness, queasiness, etc) she said she was fine. Also she was very grateful, as were the security guards and store first aider, and it was nice of them all to say thank you. What felt really good was being able to say to the security guard, "It's ok, we're first aiders of the British Red Cross," and then later hear him say to the store first aider, "It's alright, they're first aiders with the British Red Cross; they know what they're doing." Talk about feeling a sense of pride! The whole thing was quite nerve-wracking too, in the sense that we had a bit of an audience, i.e all of the shop assistants in the surrounding stores and cafes, plus all the passers-by, plus all the customers sitting in the cafes who were rather enjoying their lunchtime entertainment. A few customers thanked us, and congratulated us on our efforts, which was nice of them too, and most were surprised to see us jump up and head straight off to buy food as though nothing had happened (despite us both being slightly covered in the blood of our casualty).

It was different, treating someone when not on duty, and I'm surprised by - and of course pleased with - our immediate reactions to the situation. It just shows how firmly our training is drummed into our heads. It's almost like a second instinct now, or something.
I really hope that woman is alright now, and that her injuries weren't too serious. I especially hope she remains unfased by the incident, and that she'll make a good recovery.

Rain, rain, rain...

Today was the wettest Moto X duty ever! Even the waterproofs were beginning to give in by the end of it.

Relentless rain turned the bike track to thick pools of mud, and puddles formed in the tyre tracks. We were soaked by the constant down pour for all our time we were out there, and yet we only had four casualties despite the poor conditions.

One was a woman who had chopped off the tip of her finger and needed a new dressing - nice. A part from a boy with a sprained ankle, I don't know any of the other casualties' incidents, although I think one lad came away with a broken rib.

So the casualties we had were slightly worse off than usual; that'd be the mud then.

Thankfully, the races were cut short and the event finished early, so I was chuffed to get home earlier than usual and warm my freezing, wet body in a nice hot bath. Heaven.

Portsoy Boat Festival

Would I be sad to say that getting to ride in the front seat of our new Red Cross ambulance on the way over to Portsoy today was the highlight of my Saturday?

I would say so, but at the same time, I know I get excited over stuff like that, and so it's perfectly normal for me. I also found sitting in the driver's seat and practicing driving techniques to be pretty cool too; a little bit like a young kid when they get to sit in the front of a fire engine for their first time ever at various open days or village/school fetes and if they're lucky, get to press the button to turn on the blues and sound the horn - now that is slightly sad, I'll admit.

But a part from my wee escapades with the ambo, nothing much else happened. Ok, we had the odd casualty, and the usual "where are the toilets?" and in today's case "how much is it to go on the sailing boats?"

However we were lucky with the weather again - dry and sunny with a cooler breeze. I got more sun burnt today than I did at Rockness a couple of weeks ago.

And what I did notice today was how bonnie Portsoy actually is. It's the first time I've ever been in it properly, rather than  just pass through it whilst on a bus or something. It's actually a really nice wee fishing village, and very picturesque, like most of the places along the coast line I guess.

Of course, the duty was another chance to wear the oh so snazzy boiler suits we were given at Rockness. I really love that uniform.

Rockness 08

I suppose now would be a good time to tell the world of my adventures at Rockness - yes, it's two weeks late, but better late than never.

Ok, lets begin with Friday 6th:-

Arrive at Inverness Youth Hostel and begin the banter, with shades, sun hats, general meeting and bonding with other Red Cross folk, and have an over all good time. Later on, seven of us decide we are hungry, and as food is getting no where near us fast, we decide to go out in pursuit of it ourselves. We dash up to Inverness city centre and up the high street in search of nourishment, and ask two coppers if there were any pizza places near by. Random, yes, but it worked, as they gave us directions to a Dominos. Chuffed that there was a take-away pizza place we hunt down the Dominos and grab three medium cheese pizzas between the seven of us. It was all going so well, until we left Dominos and stepped out into sheets of pouring rain hammering down onto the city centre pavements with such force that the raindrops bounced off the concrete. With a relatively lengthy walk back to the hostel, you can only imagine how wet we were going to get. We ended up running the last leg back, as the rain seemed to get heavier, and as sod's law would have it, just as we reached the hostel - soaking wet, in t-shirts and dripping like drowned rats - the rain slowed down to a gentle shower.

To top it all off, the pizza (although surprisingly not soggy) was cold and pretty hard. However, we were all really too hungry to care, and ate it anyway.

Saturday 7th:-

The first of the two epic days of Rockness. The banter began at mid-day, and I found myself with a radio and instructions to temporarily look after a group that consisted mainly of observers. That was all well and fine, just as long as we didn't get any major casualties. Thankfully, the responsibility didn't rest on my shoulders for too long. 

So the day went on, and we gained our first, more serious casualty - a young-looking lad, shaking violently, who clearly needed help at the Hospital Tent. One colleague took him there, and that was that. 

Later on, we found yet another casualty - unconscious male, already in the recovery position thanks to the people who found him, with sick trickling from the side of his mouth. If he hadn't been in the recovery position, that silent vomit would have choked and killed him - thank you people who found him. So as I radioed in with the urgent message (urgent radio call number 1 - this meant everyone else using the radios had to shut up for me - the power) paramedics arrived to aid us. From then onwards they dealt with the situation, and that was the excitement over for us.

The day progressed, and an incident did occur which I will not go into great detail and depth about, however I will say that it involved the solo fatality of Rockness this year.

After this, things seemed to slow a bit. I was meant to finish my shift at 6pm, along with the other younger (and in some cases, newer) teens, which I had never been truly happy about (not because I think I'm better than the others, but I do have a year's experience which I felt should have allowed me to stay on and be treated as an older, more experienced first aid member; it's only fair). However, after the recent events, I was allowed by my boss to work on till midnight and do a full 12 hour shift. I was grateful for this, as I was allowed to join a second first aid team up at one of the campsites to do the evening shift. This was good fun - the people there were a great bunch, some of who I recognised from previous events, others who I had only just met. Either way, they were a great group of people who were all friendly, so if they ever read this, thanks to them.

I think in the future I'll make a point of not tempting fate - I said "I bet at midnight, just as we're about to go off duty, we'll get something."

I wasn't half wrong.

Just as 12 o'clock came and we were about to radio in to organise the change of teams so the night duty folk could take over, we had a woman approach us and say in a rather anxious tone, "Excuse me, my friend's not waking up, and she's not responding to anything I do." 

Bugger.

So away we go, following her into the dark abyss of the ghetto-like tents (we did refer to the site as a sort of festival ghetto, as it really was...ghetto-like) and we found our casualty passed out, unconscious - in the recovery position, yay - on the floor. So I radioed in (urgent radio call number 2) requesting the aid of ScotAmb (Scottish Ambo service, in case you didn't click with that) and helped maintain her airway. My colleague gave her oxygen, and we kept her warm with blankets, sleeping bags, and anything else that could give her heat, whilst monitoring her vital signs, i.e. pulse, sats and breathing. She really wasn't responding to anything; not voice, not even pain with a good nip on the ear or fingernail. Thankfully she started to come round during our wait for the ambo crew - she could feel the oxygen mask on her face and tried to shove it off many a time, failing wonderfully to do so.

A good twenty minutes later after the initial radio transmission, our paramedics arrived with an ambulance, and we helped get her on the scoop and into the back of the ambo without many problems.

A job well done, we were finally free to head for the hostel, and our beds.

I apologise for waking up the friends I shared a room with - stupid card key thing for the door wouldn't work at all, so was forced to knock.

Not that we got much sleep in those rooms anyway; the wooden bunk beds we slept in creaked mega loudly at the slightest movement, so a peaceful night's rest was hardly on the cards anyway.

Sunday 8th:-

Another 12 hour shift that I managed to charm my way into - woo!

Sunday was a lot more laid back, starting at mid-day again, and with virtually nothing happening in the main stage area for those of us who weren't grab team members. I did start out in a small mobile patrol, which allowed us to make the most of the glorious sunny weather, and enabled me to nip down to a merchandise stall and nab a Rockness t-shirt! After that, we ended up being stuck in the pit of the main stage - that sounds great, I hear you cry, but when you've been there and done it once already, another couple of hours stuck there with music pounding through your body from giant vertical speakers standing right behind you isn't the kind of position you want to be in. One, it gets pretty boring, and two, it's not nice on your body to have to put up with the constant vibrations of heavy bass music. Sure, it's good at a club, party or disco, but on duty when you have to stand right beside it...the novelty soon wears off.

So, a part from letting the odd person through to the Field Hospital tent, we weren't let loose back into the outside world until after dinner in the evening, when I finally got out on another mobile patrol. We based ourselves at the entrance/exit to the 'Skins' tent (the heavy beats club tent where, yep, channel 4's 'Skins' were filming).

Besides the odd plaster that had to be applied, and getting chatted up by a drunk or two (I'm too gorgeous to be a medic, apparently) nothing really happened injury wise, which is good for the public having a good time. Us first aiders had a good time too, dancing to the odd club remix.

It wasn't until midnight when - yeah, you've guessed it - the action picked up again. Firstly, we had a collapse in the middle of the rave taking place in the packed 'Skins' tent, so in we went, and as one lassie radioed for the grab team outside, and my other two colleagues helped the unconscious bloke lying (in the recovery position again!) on the floor, I acted as crowd control, which I was surprisingly good at, and one of my fellow first aiders even made a point of commenting on this fact. So we got him out, with the aid of the grab team and their stretcher, and sent him off down to the Field Hospital.

Almost half an hour later, we got a suspected spinal casualty, which I radioed in for (third and final urgent radio call of the weekend) and got the grab team over to sort him out too. As the process took place of safely transferring the casualty from floor to stretcher, I tended to, firstly, a spot of crowd control, followed by something more along the lines of emotional support.

The poor guy's girlfriend and two best mates were standing near by, cold, worried and upset by what was happening to their beloved friend and boyfriend who was currently being immobilised by the team. So I took it upon myself to comfort them and calm down the sobbing girlfriend who was anxious beyond belief - very understandably - for her man who was now being strapped down onto a stretcher.

Roughly 20 mins later we got the boy down to the Field Hospital, and I accompanied the three girls, explaining to them everything that was going on and not to be worried.

When it later came to telling them the news of his transfer from Field Hospital to Raigmore Hospital, it was up to me to do so.

Amazingly, what ever it was that I said or did to them had calmed them down considerably, and by the end of the night I was blushing with the compliments I was given. I received three grateful hugs, six kisses (one on each cheek from all three of them) and a barrel-full of thanks and praise, one of which stands out pretty fondly in my mind; "You've been the only paramedic who had actually helped me and made me feel better about all this. All the others seem so stuck up, but you come down to our level - you're more human."

That's most probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, and for one thing I'm not even a paramedic, so that just adds to the compliment!

After leaving the hospital tent on a total high with a warm fuzzy feeling inside, knowing that I had actually helped someone this weekend, I was barked at by a colleague - the dude who's second in command, if you like - to get on the minibus as we were heading back to the hostel soon, and stay on the minibus so he knows who's still to get back to the base. Talk about gratitude. But hey, I had to smile as I boarded that bus - nothing else could dampen that feeling, not for a while anyway.

We drove back to the hostel that early Monday morning, and gathered our stuff, and drove back home to bonnie Elgin, everyone pretty much content with the weekend. I know I was; I had just gained some of the most valuable, confidence-boosting experience that I had hoped to gain, and I was happy - tired, but happy.

Ok, so in that lovely long post I've probably come across as totally self-centered and all the rest, but I really don't mean to sound like I'm blowing my own horn. A lot happened which still excites me now when I think about it - it truly was a brill weekend for me personally, which I wanted to write about.

But of course, I also want to make a point about how well everyone did during those busy two (in some cases three, for the folks who worked on Friday too) days when the public let loose on drink, drugs and dangerous stunts. Well done to one and all - every member of the Red Cross present at the event did their branches and their teams proud. We all worked well together, and although things could have been better in some circumstances - nothing's perfect - what did go well worked, and I can safely say the event wouldn't have run as smoothly without us. So high 5s and thumbs up all around people.

Of course, thanks to the security staff, event organisers, catering staff, the amazing emergency services personnel (the police and paramedics) and the A&E staff who worked those long hard hours at the Field Hospital tent - the event would definitely not have been such a success without you all. You all kicked ass.

And well done to the public who went for the festival buzz and entertainment - well done for not all getting so drunk that you needed us to save you, and hope you guys enjoyed the weekend.

But above all, here's to the saddening fatality of the young lad whose time at Rockness was all too soon cut short. My heart goes out to his friends and family, and to all who knew him, well or not. All I can say is he was in good hands right until the end. May he rest in peace.

Perhaps this year's wonderful Rockness should go down in his memory.

So overall, the whole Rockness weekend was one of variety. For anyone who has the festival fever, I'd say go next year; it's pretty much worth the journey into the depths of the Highlands.

And another thing which can be said about this year's Rockness - we were damn lucky with the weather.

No more school!!!

Yes! That's it; all over and done with! No more SQA exams (ever!) and no more Elgin Academy. Now it's the big wide world of freedom...well, excluding the job I'm going to have to get, and college when it starts in September...but until then, bring it on!

My heart goes out to all the poor people who have to go back to school tomorrow, I'll be thinking of you as I lie in my bed and snooze :)