Don't you just hate it when you get a slap in the face?
Not literally in this case (though both forms are equally as bad). I mean, when you experience a moment in life which sheds light onto the shadowed personality of someone who you thought you knew.
When they do something so inexplicable and out of character, yet somehow it fits them so perfectly now that your eyes have been opened to who they really are and what they are really like.
It's the second when you feel as though someone has kicked you and now they laugh at your stupidity for not having seen it coming.
Now, your trust is shattered - broken into a million pieces. You become weary of ever growing close to another person again. All because one stupid man has fouled the very faith you had in humanity.
Perhaps it's best not to question this blog post. But leave this entry with a wise piece of advice:
People are not always who they seem to be. Trust people, yes, and put your faith in them, else life wouldn't be worth living. But if they turn out to be some hideous monster who enjoys jeopardising the good things in life, because the grass could always be greener and what they have now isn't quite good enough, then don't bloody well be surprised.
Sunday, 21 June 2009
Dicing with death
I think I'm finally getting in to this whole nursing thing.
I've finally met my mentor, after 3 weeks of being left to wander alone like the waif of a student that I am, latching on to who ever will have me for the duration of the shift.
And it turns out she's actually really nice. I know I'm gonna learn a lot from her, which makes the remaining 7 week hospital stint look a lot brighter.
Anyway, more to the point of my title, I dealt with my first death the other night. The woman was elderly; she died with her eyes closed. This is a blessing, because usually folk die with their eyes wide or semi open, which is just plain freaky. I don't think I could deal with a body if it stared at me with a lifeless gaze, peering out at me from glassy eyeballs half-hidden beneath crinkled lids. Anyway, enough overly-descriptive talk.
A young nurse and myself entered the room together, and for a second a pang of pity passed through me. I had known the patient well enough when she was alive - I had helped her on a couple of occasions, and she had always been nice and patient, and very chatty. Funny too. So to see her lying there, half expecting her eyelashes to flutter or her chest to rise with a breath, but seeing nothing of life about her, was slightly heart-wrenching.
The moment passed and I walked over to her side. I rested a hand on her arm. She was slightly cold to touch, and as I gazed at her face I noticed how pale she had become. All of her flesh was ashen - very deathly - and I saw that the underside of her arm was a mottled purple colour. Now, there is a medical term for that, when all the blood rushes to the underside of the body due to the pull of gravity and the fact that there's no longer a heart to keep it moving round the system. But I can't remember it.
We got to work, cleaning her body. My eyes barely left her face. She wore such a blank expression, yet it seemed to be one of peace. Finally, after all the pain she had suffered, she had found rest.
It makes you wonder what happens after death; if there's an afterlife, or if that's it, nothing, just blackness, which you wouldn't realise anyway cos your mind wouldn't be awake so you wouldn't be aware of it. Or would you? Because when you think about it, when you come round after you've fainted, you remember the blackness kinda fading, as you open your eyes to the world again. At least, that's what I remember after my fainting episode. And you remember the exact point when everything goes black. So maybe, without realising it, you are aware of the blackness, because you're aware of it at the beginning and at the end, and therefore you must remember the middle of it, cos when you wake up, you remember it being black. So is that what dying is like? You're just constantly stuck in a black state - a black hole? And yet... surely that can't just be it. Living your whole life, doing the things you want to and striving to make a name for yourself, and what happens? You end up in the dark. Surely your soul doesn't reach this standstill and stay there forever - for infinity - cos there's nothing like death to stop that sensation? Surely you must live on, whether it be as a supernatural being, or in another living form, like reincarnation.
It's thinking like that which turns you crazy.
So off this tangent, and back on track.
We rolled her onto her side to wash her back. Her arm flopped like that of a rag doll, landing with a gentle thud onto the air-filled mattress. Despite knowing that there was no strength in her to move anymore, I still expected her to pull away, or stop herself from rolling to far. But there was just nothing.
The nurse accompanying me told me that people deal with these 'last offices' in different ways. Her personal coping strategy was to speak to the person as she went, treating them as if they were alive and could hear everything she was saying. At first I thought this would be difficult; maybe like playing make-believe with a doll. But after a while, I found myself talking to the patient, telling her what I was gonna do next, asking her to roll towards me or telling her to lift an arm as I picked it up myself and washed it gently. I inwardly laughed at myself, but at the same time, I drew comfort from this odd addition to the final ritual which the hospital held for this woman.
We dressed her in a theatre gown - she had no special nightdress for leaving her ward room in - and cocooned her in a white blanket, wrapping her up as though she were a gift, as my fellow nurse had said. I'm not immensely religious these days - in fact, I'm almost cynical about it now - but I almost shocked myself when I thought tenderly that we wrapped her up like a gift for God. If there is a God up there, I hope he gets it, first class delivery, cos really this woman deserves nothing else than to be an angel.
We sealed her in a white body bag, with label attached like an identity card. My writing remains on the name tag that we secured around her wrist. Slightly freaky thought really, that my writing blemishes a dead person's body.
Then, I realised it was eight o'clock, and therefore home time.
And that was it - business finished, now let's forget about it and go home for supper.
I write this now, because it's a form of reflection on my part. At the time - and this may sound twisted - I was chuffed because it meant another box ticked in the nursing skills passport. Another story to add to the evidence list in my portfolio.
But now, I think about this and realise actually what a deep experience it is, to be the people to prepare her for her long journey to the underworld, to some sort of extent. I'm not mentally scarred by this event - my mentor said it was good to be introduced to this kind of thing early - but nor am I going to forget it in a hurry. It was a good experience; a learning curve in technique, skill and professionalism, and also in facing up to the inevitable which lies in wait for all of us.
Death is a big part of life - a very big part which we must all deal with at some point or another. I say I won't forget it in a hurry, but neither will the family she has left behind. And I know that both myself and her family will have to dance with death again at another point, hopefully in the very, very, very distant future.
I've finally met my mentor, after 3 weeks of being left to wander alone like the waif of a student that I am, latching on to who ever will have me for the duration of the shift.
And it turns out she's actually really nice. I know I'm gonna learn a lot from her, which makes the remaining 7 week hospital stint look a lot brighter.
Anyway, more to the point of my title, I dealt with my first death the other night. The woman was elderly; she died with her eyes closed. This is a blessing, because usually folk die with their eyes wide or semi open, which is just plain freaky. I don't think I could deal with a body if it stared at me with a lifeless gaze, peering out at me from glassy eyeballs half-hidden beneath crinkled lids. Anyway, enough overly-descriptive talk.
A young nurse and myself entered the room together, and for a second a pang of pity passed through me. I had known the patient well enough when she was alive - I had helped her on a couple of occasions, and she had always been nice and patient, and very chatty. Funny too. So to see her lying there, half expecting her eyelashes to flutter or her chest to rise with a breath, but seeing nothing of life about her, was slightly heart-wrenching.
The moment passed and I walked over to her side. I rested a hand on her arm. She was slightly cold to touch, and as I gazed at her face I noticed how pale she had become. All of her flesh was ashen - very deathly - and I saw that the underside of her arm was a mottled purple colour. Now, there is a medical term for that, when all the blood rushes to the underside of the body due to the pull of gravity and the fact that there's no longer a heart to keep it moving round the system. But I can't remember it.
We got to work, cleaning her body. My eyes barely left her face. She wore such a blank expression, yet it seemed to be one of peace. Finally, after all the pain she had suffered, she had found rest.
It makes you wonder what happens after death; if there's an afterlife, or if that's it, nothing, just blackness, which you wouldn't realise anyway cos your mind wouldn't be awake so you wouldn't be aware of it. Or would you? Because when you think about it, when you come round after you've fainted, you remember the blackness kinda fading, as you open your eyes to the world again. At least, that's what I remember after my fainting episode. And you remember the exact point when everything goes black. So maybe, without realising it, you are aware of the blackness, because you're aware of it at the beginning and at the end, and therefore you must remember the middle of it, cos when you wake up, you remember it being black. So is that what dying is like? You're just constantly stuck in a black state - a black hole? And yet... surely that can't just be it. Living your whole life, doing the things you want to and striving to make a name for yourself, and what happens? You end up in the dark. Surely your soul doesn't reach this standstill and stay there forever - for infinity - cos there's nothing like death to stop that sensation? Surely you must live on, whether it be as a supernatural being, or in another living form, like reincarnation.
It's thinking like that which turns you crazy.
So off this tangent, and back on track.
We rolled her onto her side to wash her back. Her arm flopped like that of a rag doll, landing with a gentle thud onto the air-filled mattress. Despite knowing that there was no strength in her to move anymore, I still expected her to pull away, or stop herself from rolling to far. But there was just nothing.
The nurse accompanying me told me that people deal with these 'last offices' in different ways. Her personal coping strategy was to speak to the person as she went, treating them as if they were alive and could hear everything she was saying. At first I thought this would be difficult; maybe like playing make-believe with a doll. But after a while, I found myself talking to the patient, telling her what I was gonna do next, asking her to roll towards me or telling her to lift an arm as I picked it up myself and washed it gently. I inwardly laughed at myself, but at the same time, I drew comfort from this odd addition to the final ritual which the hospital held for this woman.
We dressed her in a theatre gown - she had no special nightdress for leaving her ward room in - and cocooned her in a white blanket, wrapping her up as though she were a gift, as my fellow nurse had said. I'm not immensely religious these days - in fact, I'm almost cynical about it now - but I almost shocked myself when I thought tenderly that we wrapped her up like a gift for God. If there is a God up there, I hope he gets it, first class delivery, cos really this woman deserves nothing else than to be an angel.
We sealed her in a white body bag, with label attached like an identity card. My writing remains on the name tag that we secured around her wrist. Slightly freaky thought really, that my writing blemishes a dead person's body.
Then, I realised it was eight o'clock, and therefore home time.
And that was it - business finished, now let's forget about it and go home for supper.
I write this now, because it's a form of reflection on my part. At the time - and this may sound twisted - I was chuffed because it meant another box ticked in the nursing skills passport. Another story to add to the evidence list in my portfolio.
But now, I think about this and realise actually what a deep experience it is, to be the people to prepare her for her long journey to the underworld, to some sort of extent. I'm not mentally scarred by this event - my mentor said it was good to be introduced to this kind of thing early - but nor am I going to forget it in a hurry. It was a good experience; a learning curve in technique, skill and professionalism, and also in facing up to the inevitable which lies in wait for all of us.
Death is a big part of life - a very big part which we must all deal with at some point or another. I say I won't forget it in a hurry, but neither will the family she has left behind. And I know that both myself and her family will have to dance with death again at another point, hopefully in the very, very, very distant future.
Monday, 15 June 2009
Drink, Drugs & Rock n Roll (plus energy boosts, fast food, boating...)
The stage was set for some big entertainment this weekend.
And I'm not just talking about the various acts which were lined up for Rockness '09 - I'm on about the fun factor which Caitlind, Graeme and myself had planned out to make this Rockness experience the most kick ass highland music festival experience so far.
Saying that, our initial plans for a boozey pub night on Friday evening were scrapped at short notice when Graeme discovered he was due for a 5pm to 3am shift. Since we couldn't really change this - bad conscience and all - Caitlind and I naturally joined him. Although we did get to go to Burger King earlier on for some grub, and we did have a good laugh in Graeme's pink Audi on the way to Inverness, so really Friday wasn't too lost on the banter front.
Of course, the night shift was pretty ace too. There was a lot of variety in the casualties we met up at the Nesstival arena where Caitlind and I had been thrown to; ailments ranged between the less concerning problems like mild sun burn or plaster requests for paper cuts, and the more major issues like intoxication leading to reduced consciousness, tachycardia, and risk of hypothermia (the latter usually being due to their absence of clothing) or the occasional large nose bleed due to a drunken punch up. The usual for a music fest really.
We also discovered that night the life-saving properties of 'Monster' energy drinks. Need to be fully alert and awake for 10 hours straight? Give 'Red Bull' the kick, and pump yourself with this stuff. It's damn good and does the job. Plus the cans are big, so you get a lot of juice at one time. Good stuff.
Saturday was slightly more eventful, on both chillaxing and working fronts.
We were joined by Hannah during the day, and after the four of us had finally come round out of our comatose state and pulled ourselves out of bed, we decided it was time for lunch. Well, breakfast, technically. So we went to MacDonalds.
Then, after a spot of shopping (La Senza, Graeme?) and a quick stock up on energy boosts - this time Red Bull cos the multi-packs from Morrisons were good value -Hannah suggested a great place for a bit of wind-down time.
Invershneckie's Whin Park has a boating pond, and seeing as the sun was shining and we had all the time in the world to kill, we decided it would be good fun to make Graeme practice his boating skills and row us round the wee lake for a while. Ok, we didn't flog him for the whole time - we each had a turn in the rowing seat, with a "How to Row a Boat 101" from our swiftie pal.
Once we'd had our fill of splashing each other with oars and crashing into the mini islands, we decided it was time to return to the Youth Hostel - our home for the weekend - and get ready for our next 5pm - 3am stint.
Saturday at Nesstival was busy again, with yet another bundle of different casualties to deal with. Plus the same questions to answer, mainly:
"Where's the nearest toilet?"
"Can I use your toilet?"
"Can I take a short cut through your tent?"
"Do you guys have any sun cream/after sun?"
"Have you seen [insert name here]?"
"Do you have any water?"
"Do you have any condoms?"
I think that list pretty much covers it.
Once again, the Monster drinks were going down a treat, but another saving grace was the UK office's very own Operational Support Unit - aka, the Red Cross burger van. It had been driven up from London as a one-off deal, purely to feed the many first aid volunteers and ambo personnel who needed the sustenance during their long shifts. All free, and all ours.
Actually it was a very snazzy vehicle and well appreciated, though why it had blue lights and battenburg on it is a wonder. The only emergency I could see it responding to with blues and twos is if a first aider was starving somewhere.
Anyhoo, it shouldn't be dissed - I really think Northern Scotland could do with one. The constant supply of lasagna, mac 'n' cheese, late night pies, fruit, crisps, cakes and doughnuts (or 'Dougnuts', as someone had spelt it - great hilarity for Douglas) were welcomed with open arms and stomachs.
So, with Saturday night blending into Sunday morning, yet another shift came to a close.
Sunday was spent in Pizza Hut sharing a giant cheesey bites pizza (apart from Caitlind, who opted for a healthy Caesar salad) and relaxing on the grassy front of the Youth Hostel, after Caitlind and me truly clobbered Graeme in a wrestling match, or two. It was really fine, just lying about, using Graeme's gut as a pillow and soaking up the sun's warm rays, listening to music and having a blether. But sadly, the chilled out afternoon had to come to an end, and as we queued up to board the mini buses back to Rockness, the grey rain clouds loomed over us.
Seriously, that's not just for dramatic effect - the weather did change, but it's not like we were upset to return to the site. Actually we were really excited, cos Biffy Clyro and the Prodigy were away to play that night.
For once, I was not shoved up to to the Nesstival post. This time, both myself and Caitlind were let loose in the main stage Arena, within the confines of the main stage pit. And somehow, we ended up in the grab team.
I'll say it now - the grab team is awesome. I actually loved every minute of it. I'm not sure why really, 'cos on reflection you have to carry a heavy Alpine stretcher, O2 and a first aid kit, and usually you add a heavy unconscious person to the equation. But you also get to barge through a heaving mass of people, and you are never fully sure of what you're going to find when you reach the casualty. You also get to work as a real unit - team work is vital in the grab team, and I really liked that. I think it's just the overall adrenaline rush that kicks in with the job.
But last night, it was the Prodigy, and the Prodigy meant one hell of a rave, and a massive rave meant lot of casualties. Which meant a lot of shouts for us.
I totally surprised myself with the strength I found in me. I think I have adrenaline to thank for that, and possibly Monster energy drinks again. But I really, really enjoyed the buzz. I hate to admit that, because it's like taking thrills from other people's misfortunes. But while I did feel sorry for the folk we had to roughly lift and shift on the stretcher, I also loved the ability to part the crowd and fight through to the hospital tent, knowing that it was vital to get these casualties to safety, and while doing so knowing that the responsibility of another person's life was literally in our hands.
Even writing this now gives me shivers, lol.
Point is, I'd quite happily do that again, anytime, anywhere.
Aside from the change in role, the bands were pretty good. Biffy Clyro naturally put on a rocking performance, and the Prodigy almost lived up to their rave-ilicious reputation. I say almost 'cos I actually expected more of a head-banging performance from them, but then I'm not a great fan and I didn't really have much time to acknowledge their show. Either way though, the finale of Rockness '09 was pretty damned brilliant.
So, home we went, at four in the morning. Now I sit here, tired and trying my best to remember the best bits of the weekend. Actually, for being so shattered, I think it's a pretty good account.
It's definitely long enough.
And I'm not just talking about the various acts which were lined up for Rockness '09 - I'm on about the fun factor which Caitlind, Graeme and myself had planned out to make this Rockness experience the most kick ass highland music festival experience so far.
Saying that, our initial plans for a boozey pub night on Friday evening were scrapped at short notice when Graeme discovered he was due for a 5pm to 3am shift. Since we couldn't really change this - bad conscience and all - Caitlind and I naturally joined him. Although we did get to go to Burger King earlier on for some grub, and we did have a good laugh in Graeme's pink Audi on the way to Inverness, so really Friday wasn't too lost on the banter front.
Of course, the night shift was pretty ace too. There was a lot of variety in the casualties we met up at the Nesstival arena where Caitlind and I had been thrown to; ailments ranged between the less concerning problems like mild sun burn or plaster requests for paper cuts, and the more major issues like intoxication leading to reduced consciousness, tachycardia, and risk of hypothermia (the latter usually being due to their absence of clothing) or the occasional large nose bleed due to a drunken punch up. The usual for a music fest really.
We also discovered that night the life-saving properties of 'Monster' energy drinks. Need to be fully alert and awake for 10 hours straight? Give 'Red Bull' the kick, and pump yourself with this stuff. It's damn good and does the job. Plus the cans are big, so you get a lot of juice at one time. Good stuff.
Saturday was slightly more eventful, on both chillaxing and working fronts.
We were joined by Hannah during the day, and after the four of us had finally come round out of our comatose state and pulled ourselves out of bed, we decided it was time for lunch. Well, breakfast, technically. So we went to MacDonalds.
Then, after a spot of shopping (La Senza, Graeme?) and a quick stock up on energy boosts - this time Red Bull cos the multi-packs from Morrisons were good value -Hannah suggested a great place for a bit of wind-down time.
Invershneckie's Whin Park has a boating pond, and seeing as the sun was shining and we had all the time in the world to kill, we decided it would be good fun to make Graeme practice his boating skills and row us round the wee lake for a while. Ok, we didn't flog him for the whole time - we each had a turn in the rowing seat, with a "How to Row a Boat 101" from our swiftie pal.
Once we'd had our fill of splashing each other with oars and crashing into the mini islands, we decided it was time to return to the Youth Hostel - our home for the weekend - and get ready for our next 5pm - 3am stint.
Saturday at Nesstival was busy again, with yet another bundle of different casualties to deal with. Plus the same questions to answer, mainly:
"Where's the nearest toilet?"
"Can I use your toilet?"
"Can I take a short cut through your tent?"
"Do you guys have any sun cream/after sun?"
"Have you seen [insert name here]?"
"Do you have any water?"
"Do you have any condoms?"
I think that list pretty much covers it.
Once again, the Monster drinks were going down a treat, but another saving grace was the UK office's very own Operational Support Unit - aka, the Red Cross burger van. It had been driven up from London as a one-off deal, purely to feed the many first aid volunteers and ambo personnel who needed the sustenance during their long shifts. All free, and all ours.
Actually it was a very snazzy vehicle and well appreciated, though why it had blue lights and battenburg on it is a wonder. The only emergency I could see it responding to with blues and twos is if a first aider was starving somewhere.
Anyhoo, it shouldn't be dissed - I really think Northern Scotland could do with one. The constant supply of lasagna, mac 'n' cheese, late night pies, fruit, crisps, cakes and doughnuts (or 'Dougnuts', as someone had spelt it - great hilarity for Douglas) were welcomed with open arms and stomachs.
So, with Saturday night blending into Sunday morning, yet another shift came to a close.
Sunday was spent in Pizza Hut sharing a giant cheesey bites pizza (apart from Caitlind, who opted for a healthy Caesar salad) and relaxing on the grassy front of the Youth Hostel, after Caitlind and me truly clobbered Graeme in a wrestling match, or two. It was really fine, just lying about, using Graeme's gut as a pillow and soaking up the sun's warm rays, listening to music and having a blether. But sadly, the chilled out afternoon had to come to an end, and as we queued up to board the mini buses back to Rockness, the grey rain clouds loomed over us.
Seriously, that's not just for dramatic effect - the weather did change, but it's not like we were upset to return to the site. Actually we were really excited, cos Biffy Clyro and the Prodigy were away to play that night.
For once, I was not shoved up to to the Nesstival post. This time, both myself and Caitlind were let loose in the main stage Arena, within the confines of the main stage pit. And somehow, we ended up in the grab team.
I'll say it now - the grab team is awesome. I actually loved every minute of it. I'm not sure why really, 'cos on reflection you have to carry a heavy Alpine stretcher, O2 and a first aid kit, and usually you add a heavy unconscious person to the equation. But you also get to barge through a heaving mass of people, and you are never fully sure of what you're going to find when you reach the casualty. You also get to work as a real unit - team work is vital in the grab team, and I really liked that. I think it's just the overall adrenaline rush that kicks in with the job.
But last night, it was the Prodigy, and the Prodigy meant one hell of a rave, and a massive rave meant lot of casualties. Which meant a lot of shouts for us.
I totally surprised myself with the strength I found in me. I think I have adrenaline to thank for that, and possibly Monster energy drinks again. But I really, really enjoyed the buzz. I hate to admit that, because it's like taking thrills from other people's misfortunes. But while I did feel sorry for the folk we had to roughly lift and shift on the stretcher, I also loved the ability to part the crowd and fight through to the hospital tent, knowing that it was vital to get these casualties to safety, and while doing so knowing that the responsibility of another person's life was literally in our hands.
Even writing this now gives me shivers, lol.
Point is, I'd quite happily do that again, anytime, anywhere.
Aside from the change in role, the bands were pretty good. Biffy Clyro naturally put on a rocking performance, and the Prodigy almost lived up to their rave-ilicious reputation. I say almost 'cos I actually expected more of a head-banging performance from them, but then I'm not a great fan and I didn't really have much time to acknowledge their show. Either way though, the finale of Rockness '09 was pretty damned brilliant.
So, home we went, at four in the morning. Now I sit here, tired and trying my best to remember the best bits of the weekend. Actually, for being so shattered, I think it's a pretty good account.
It's definitely long enough.
Saturday, 6 June 2009
Game On
Gordonstoun hosted its annual Junior Highland Games today.
In the green grounds where "even the grass seemed posh," there was many a spectacle to be seen. An all day BBQ (yummers) with lush burgers for sale; a tent set up by the youngsters with face painting, tombolas and several stalls; a larger tent containing merchandice stalls (they sold googley-eyed ambo figures!) and another big tent which provided cakes and tea all day to the many spectators witnessing the games of the day.
Actually, the games looked like quite good fun. I wouldn't have minded lobbing a haggis across a field, or battering someone with a pillow off a slippery log, or flexing my muscles in a tug-of-war match... hah, muscles...
A few ideas for some RC fundraising events?
Plus there were two pipe bands to entertain the crowds, and an abundance of other smaller shop stalls each flogging their finest, hand-crafted goodies. If I'd had any cash on me, I would have been tempted to buy the odd necklace or two; there really were some good things out for sale.
Oh, and there was Gordonstoun's very own fire engine, with it's youngster fire cadet crew. I so wanted a shot of firing down several traffic cones with a jet of water. Just to impress a rather cute water-fairy (yes, that is a firey, in case no one gets the slang) who was, according to Caitlind, checking me out near by - ch-ching! *...Ahem*
Plus traffic cones are the new bane of my life... but that's a story for another time.
Alas, I never got a shot of the hose, but I did meet an old school mate of mine who had escaped to Gordonstoun a couple of years ago. That's something.
Anyhoo, after our nostalgic trip down memory lane, well, that's when we got our excitement fix.
Ironically, I had just said to Caitlind how quiet it had been, and how it would make things a little more interesting if something happened for us - preferably a paper cut - when a man came running up behind us.
"Excuse me! Someone's collapsed down there!"
Oh God.
A first aider never runs, a first aider never runs... Ok, we're running!
We reached the casualty without any direction - the guy hadn't even pointed us the right way and yet somehow we managed to find our way almost automatically through the crowds, as though we had a built in casualty-radar or first aid sat-nav.
It was an elderly woman - in her eighties - and by the looks of it, she was having some sort of mild seizure. She was definitely confused and didn't look well at all.
Caitlind took control while I dashed to RE6 to grab the trolley bed, while Charile joined in and fetched a blanket.
We loaded the poor woman up onto the bed and took her round to the ambo, where Christine set up the O2 for her and Charlie filled out a PRF, while I dialled for an ambulance. Worryingly, we were told that she had a history of a heart defect. She had been recently issued with new medication for the condition - a leaking valve - but for the past few days she and her family had suspected it to be disagreeing with her. Our casualty vomited. Perhaps it was just the medication? However, her underlying symptoms suggested otherwise. Caitlind later suspected an absent seizure - a mild fit - but for the time being, in all the excitement, we were suspecting the heart.
The ambulance arrived. I gave the handover to the paramedic crew, who transferred her to their own vehicle. She was stable but tired and somewhat confused, and I couldn't blame her. Whilst first aiding gives you a buzz, I imagine that to be the casualty on the other end of the line with a problem which is resting in the hands of total strangers (who in truth have no medical qualifications other than those gained in basic/enhanced training) must be a daunting experience. Also, to not have encountered such an episode before until now would make you feel worried, scared and confused too.
On bringing these points together, it makes you realise just how important it is to get medical history, and how vital patient care is; building that brief, trusting relationship between yourself as a first aider and the casualty is key to establishing effective care and treatment, which is needed to reassure the casualty and promote the beginnings of recovery; the effect that first aid should have.
Wow, that should totally be incorporated into one of my health care essays. I've come over all nursey now =P
But on reflection it is totally true.
So we sent her on her way, with praise from her family - and I quote: "When you came over, I thought you girls looked far too young to do anything, but you are both brilliant."
Yay ^-^
Thankfully, this story has a happy ending. The woman was seen to be fine and was discharged from hospital after various check ups and monitoring. Hopefully she won't have to face an episode like that again.
Another day saved by the amazing first aid duo, me thinks =]
In the green grounds where "even the grass seemed posh," there was many a spectacle to be seen. An all day BBQ (yummers) with lush burgers for sale; a tent set up by the youngsters with face painting, tombolas and several stalls; a larger tent containing merchandice stalls (they sold googley-eyed ambo figures!) and another big tent which provided cakes and tea all day to the many spectators witnessing the games of the day.
Actually, the games looked like quite good fun. I wouldn't have minded lobbing a haggis across a field, or battering someone with a pillow off a slippery log, or flexing my muscles in a tug-of-war match... hah, muscles...
A few ideas for some RC fundraising events?
Plus there were two pipe bands to entertain the crowds, and an abundance of other smaller shop stalls each flogging their finest, hand-crafted goodies. If I'd had any cash on me, I would have been tempted to buy the odd necklace or two; there really were some good things out for sale.
Oh, and there was Gordonstoun's very own fire engine, with it's youngster fire cadet crew. I so wanted a shot of firing down several traffic cones with a jet of water. Just to impress a rather cute water-fairy (yes, that is a firey, in case no one gets the slang) who was, according to Caitlind, checking me out near by - ch-ching! *...Ahem*
Plus traffic cones are the new bane of my life... but that's a story for another time.
Alas, I never got a shot of the hose, but I did meet an old school mate of mine who had escaped to Gordonstoun a couple of years ago. That's something.
Anyhoo, after our nostalgic trip down memory lane, well, that's when we got our excitement fix.
Ironically, I had just said to Caitlind how quiet it had been, and how it would make things a little more interesting if something happened for us - preferably a paper cut - when a man came running up behind us.
"Excuse me! Someone's collapsed down there!"
Oh God.
A first aider never runs, a first aider never runs... Ok, we're running!
We reached the casualty without any direction - the guy hadn't even pointed us the right way and yet somehow we managed to find our way almost automatically through the crowds, as though we had a built in casualty-radar or first aid sat-nav.
It was an elderly woman - in her eighties - and by the looks of it, she was having some sort of mild seizure. She was definitely confused and didn't look well at all.
Caitlind took control while I dashed to RE6 to grab the trolley bed, while Charile joined in and fetched a blanket.
We loaded the poor woman up onto the bed and took her round to the ambo, where Christine set up the O2 for her and Charlie filled out a PRF, while I dialled for an ambulance. Worryingly, we were told that she had a history of a heart defect. She had been recently issued with new medication for the condition - a leaking valve - but for the past few days she and her family had suspected it to be disagreeing with her. Our casualty vomited. Perhaps it was just the medication? However, her underlying symptoms suggested otherwise. Caitlind later suspected an absent seizure - a mild fit - but for the time being, in all the excitement, we were suspecting the heart.
The ambulance arrived. I gave the handover to the paramedic crew, who transferred her to their own vehicle. She was stable but tired and somewhat confused, and I couldn't blame her. Whilst first aiding gives you a buzz, I imagine that to be the casualty on the other end of the line with a problem which is resting in the hands of total strangers (who in truth have no medical qualifications other than those gained in basic/enhanced training) must be a daunting experience. Also, to not have encountered such an episode before until now would make you feel worried, scared and confused too.
On bringing these points together, it makes you realise just how important it is to get medical history, and how vital patient care is; building that brief, trusting relationship between yourself as a first aider and the casualty is key to establishing effective care and treatment, which is needed to reassure the casualty and promote the beginnings of recovery; the effect that first aid should have.
Wow, that should totally be incorporated into one of my health care essays. I've come over all nursey now =P
But on reflection it is totally true.
So we sent her on her way, with praise from her family - and I quote: "When you came over, I thought you girls looked far too young to do anything, but you are both brilliant."
Yay ^-^
Thankfully, this story has a happy ending. The woman was seen to be fine and was discharged from hospital after various check ups and monitoring. Hopefully she won't have to face an episode like that again.
Another day saved by the amazing first aid duo, me thinks =]
Monday, 1 June 2009
It's a Love-Hate thing...
...Nursing.
I started my 3rd placement today, on the currently non-existent ward 9 at Dr Grays. I say non-existent as it is closed for refurbishment.
So really, I'm stuck on ward 7. But let's not get drawn into technicalities.
The point is, my first impressions are neither "wow, I'm so glad I'm there for 10 weeks," nor "God, I'm gonna kill myself if I have to spend another day there."
In fact, I'm glued somewhere in between the two concepts.
Ok, to be honest, it's not so bad. The staff are really nice [so far] and seem to be alright with having a limpit in student-nurse-form following them about the place. But then I suppose they're used to it. The patients are lovely and 'patient' too (no pun intended there, honestly).
And the Sister of ward 9 is incredibly nice; so nice she's given me 6 days off - in a row - for Rockness shinanigans. Four days off for the actual event, and two for recovery time.
I could have hugged her at that moment.
Plus she's big on filling in the paperwork, which is very helpful when you have a portfolio to complete. Saying that, her daughter is about to start her nursing training, so I guess she understands the pressures of paperwork upon the average student nurse too.
However, for a first day everything felt a bit... slow.
They say be careful what you wish for, so I'm not gonna outwardly wish for an action-packed, rushed-off-your-feet day. Although it would break the monotony of the afternoon.
The mornings are fine, as in any care job; they fly by in the blink of an eye as you fire through showering people, dishing out porridge, toast and teas and take a few obs. Before you know it it's break time, which speeds by too and it's typically sods law that it does.
Admittedly, it feels like it's been a very quick day, and suddenly I feel pretty tired. I think it's more lethargy 'cos of the stuffy heat we're enduring at the mo.
Shouldn't complain - Caitlind and me got 3 beach days out of it. Today could've been a fourth, but no.
I guess the sun burn does need time to heal...
Anyhoo, I digress.
I know the saying goes that you should give a new situation a chance to settle in before you go judging it. I generally hate the first day of new placements anyway, and usually the rest of that week... and maybe the next one too... before I finally get into the swing of things.
Perhaps I'll feel better once I finally get a definite mentor and I'm not just randomly latching onto folk, like some sort of lost puppy. Or barnacle.
Never mind, at least I have hours so I know when my days off are. And I'm sure I'll get into it eventually, when I find the confidence to really settle into the place. Until then, it's a bit of a love-hate scenario. Still, I have faith that, like all other nursing-based practices I've endured so far, it will fly by and be over before I know it.
After all, it's only for 10 weeks =S
I started my 3rd placement today, on the currently non-existent ward 9 at Dr Grays. I say non-existent as it is closed for refurbishment.
So really, I'm stuck on ward 7. But let's not get drawn into technicalities.
The point is, my first impressions are neither "wow, I'm so glad I'm there for 10 weeks," nor "God, I'm gonna kill myself if I have to spend another day there."
In fact, I'm glued somewhere in between the two concepts.
Ok, to be honest, it's not so bad. The staff are really nice [so far] and seem to be alright with having a limpit in student-nurse-form following them about the place. But then I suppose they're used to it. The patients are lovely and 'patient' too (no pun intended there, honestly).
And the Sister of ward 9 is incredibly nice; so nice she's given me 6 days off - in a row - for Rockness shinanigans. Four days off for the actual event, and two for recovery time.
I could have hugged her at that moment.
Plus she's big on filling in the paperwork, which is very helpful when you have a portfolio to complete. Saying that, her daughter is about to start her nursing training, so I guess she understands the pressures of paperwork upon the average student nurse too.
However, for a first day everything felt a bit... slow.
They say be careful what you wish for, so I'm not gonna outwardly wish for an action-packed, rushed-off-your-feet day. Although it would break the monotony of the afternoon.
The mornings are fine, as in any care job; they fly by in the blink of an eye as you fire through showering people, dishing out porridge, toast and teas and take a few obs. Before you know it it's break time, which speeds by too and it's typically sods law that it does.
Admittedly, it feels like it's been a very quick day, and suddenly I feel pretty tired. I think it's more lethargy 'cos of the stuffy heat we're enduring at the mo.
Shouldn't complain - Caitlind and me got 3 beach days out of it. Today could've been a fourth, but no.
I guess the sun burn does need time to heal...
Anyhoo, I digress.
I know the saying goes that you should give a new situation a chance to settle in before you go judging it. I generally hate the first day of new placements anyway, and usually the rest of that week... and maybe the next one too... before I finally get into the swing of things.
Perhaps I'll feel better once I finally get a definite mentor and I'm not just randomly latching onto folk, like some sort of lost puppy. Or barnacle.
Never mind, at least I have hours so I know when my days off are. And I'm sure I'll get into it eventually, when I find the confidence to really settle into the place. Until then, it's a bit of a love-hate scenario. Still, I have faith that, like all other nursing-based practices I've endured so far, it will fly by and be over before I know it.
After all, it's only for 10 weeks =S
Saturday, 9 May 2009
Super Steve - Our Caring Hero 2009!
Steve Gotts - Our Caring Hero 2009
"Former welder Steve couldn't stand the sight of blood at school - but he's found a vocation working for the Red Cross. Steve, 48, from Elgin, Moray, is a services manager for the Red Cross and co-ordinates his volunteers. Despite suffering from arthritis, he spends his spare time volunteering for the charity as well.
He was nominated by 19-year-old Caitlind Walker, from New Elgin, who met him when she took a first aid course as part of the Duke of Edinburgh's Award Scheme back in 2007. Caitlind said: 'Steve doesn't do it for the glory, he does it because he cares enough to help and give people the chances they need and deserve.'
Steve said: 'My job is very rewarding. People trust the Red Cross emblem. It's an honour to work for them.'"
After travelling for almost 4 hours, grabbing a bite to eat at Ballinluig, spending half an hour in a traffic jam near Bankfoot, and on reaching our destination spending a further half hour in yet another traffic jam - and avoiding mad weegie drivers who display insulting gestures out of their windows as they overtake - we finally made it to Glasgow.
Glasgow. The most confusing set of junctions and road directions ever. I admit that I didn't make a very good sat-nav when trying to navigate through the maze of roads to the Hilton Hotel, but it really was confusing; you couldn't blame me!
But yes, the Hilton Hotel. Ooh la la, I hear you say! Well, it was rather posh - certainly on a par with MacDonald Hotel in Manchester. Although, the Hilton's lifts are way more fun, seeing as when you go up, you feel as though you're leaving your stomach on the ground floor behind you. This isn't too nice when you feel sick -trust me on that one.
Once we eventually found it, we checked in - marvelling at the fancy surroundings we found ourselves in - and made our way to our rooms on the eleventh floor.
The rooms were conjoined; that is they had a door connecting them so we could mosey in and out of each others rooms as we pleased... well, within reason. Although, Caitlind and me did wonder if it would block out Steve's snoring later on that night...
After a quick drink in the bar (back down stairs in those lifts, eugh...) it was time to get dressed up in our finest gear for the once in a lifetime award ceremony which we were about to be a part of. Amazingly, we managed to get ready in the space of an hour and 20 minutes, which for Steve is pretty damn good, teehee =P
We approached the hubbub in our finery, ready to mingle with the heroes and the stars alike. Equipped with a glass of champagne, we made our way into the main room for the evening - some sort of executive room which was gracefully decorated as the stage for the Daily Record Our Heroes 2009 Awards Ceremony.
Table number 26, shared along with one of the Emergency Services Hero nominees, who ironically was an ambulance technician. He took great delight in discussing with us the ins and outs of working with the SAS, and how their resus differed from our resus protocol. To be honest, the last thing I wanted to talk about that night was ambulance protocol, which is weird, coming from me. But he was a lovely gentleman, so we remained engrossed in the conversation anyway.
So the ceremony kicked off, hosted by the well known Jackie Bird and Tam Cowan.
Hero after hero was awarded their trophy of recognition, and as the evening went on, you became humbled by the fact that the company you shared was with some of the bravest, most generous and determined people you would ever wish to meet. Of course, every nominee was a hero in their own way; it was just a pity that only one person per category could receive an award as proof of this fact.
The night progressed, until at last, after a pretty impressive dinner and some autograph/photo scrounging with the stars (cast from Taggert, River City, some members of the Celtic and Rangers football team to name a few) the category which myself, Caitlind and Steve had been waiting for finally arrived. Third last, the Our Caring Hero category had some tough contenders, with a doctor who had dedicated his profession to assisting cancer victims and a nurse who flitted between ward work and caring for sick kids up for the award alongside our daddy.
Amy MacDonald (yay!) drunkenly took to the stage, and announced the winner.
By this point, I imagine our hearts were thundering like the clappers in our chests. I know mine was anyway.
"And the winner is... Steve Gotts!"
So Steve went into a stunned sort of look, whilst Caitlind and me screamed the place down and burst into tears, much to the amusement of the rest of our fellow guests at our table.
I don't even remember watching much of the video, and I doubt Caitlind and Steve saw much of it either, between the ecstatic sobs and hugs of joy.
How unexpected! Seriously, for a moment, in all honesty, we had perhaps felt some doubt woth our chances. But the people had decided that our service manager, our boss, our friend - our dad - had deserved the right to win the award.
A gracious speech from our Hero brought forth waterworks again (and a few 'awws' amongst the audience) before he went to pose for a photographer outside the room. Caitlind and me quickly joined him - our faces were red, but we didn't care! Steve had won!
Drinks all around, a dance or two, and finally it was bed time. We made our way back up the stairs, and for a while we marvelled at the success. Steve was adamant that it was a team success - he still is - and yes, in a way perhaps he is right.
But Caitlind and I; all we wanted was to let him know how much we appreciated him and the work that he does for everyone, despite himself. Our aim with the award was to let him know he is loved and cared for greatly, and that we acknowledge his inspirational attitude to his work and volunteering. Really, we just wanted to find a fantastic way to say thank you.
At the end of it all, Steve is a true caring hero in our eyes, with or without a glass award.
The next morning (it was groggy for me... *ahem*) we packed up our things and went on our way, stopping off in Buchanan Galleries for a spot of shopping before disappearing back up the road to home. We even found some time to donate a few quid to the Glasgow Red Cross fundraisers, and have a wee chat before saying goodbye to the rainy city. Even when in Glasgow, we can't escape the Red Cross clutches =P
And now here I sit, bleary eyed and wanting desperately to get some sleep (no wall or door could block Steve's snoring on Friday night, hence my sleep deprivation, again, haha! Ok, joking...)
But even now as I try to find some rest after this emotional rollercoaster ride of events, I know I wont get rid of the playback system I seem to have in my head right now; the thought of his winning announcement, the memory of the other heroes who we rubbed shoulders with, the image of Steve's dance-floor moves...oh dear... lol.
But no, seriously, I am so, so, so incredibly chuffed for him. All jokes aside, he definitely deserved the recognition he was given this past evening.
Our caring hero, as awarded by the Daily Record, is none other than our very own boss, friend and father figure, Steve. Way to go dad :)
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
Monster Fun at Maggies...
Maggies Monster Bike 'n' Hike.
Maggies, because its raising funds for the cancer charity.
Monster, because of it's glorious location around the banks of Loch Ness, I imagine.
And bike 'n' hike? Well, that's self explanitory. But when words like 'bike' and 'hike' are in the title of the event, you can be sure that there will be plenty of blisters coming your way.
Yet for the crew who came on duty at two o'clock, it started with silence. Seriously, tumbleweed should have been blowing through the first aid pit stop at Drumnadrochit; apart from marshals and first aiders, there was no one.
I think, apart from the occasional speedy person who arrived there exceptionally early, this significant lack of casualties continued on til early evening, when finally, after a lot of waiting around, killing time and eating chips, the first wave of injured cyclists/hikers trudged wearily in through our doors.
For such a large event, there's very little to say in the way of casualties. Injuries went as follows:
blisters, blisters, blisters, graze, blisters, sore knees, blisters, blisters, blisters, and so on - you get the idea.
Of course, with blisters there comes a different, yet very simple, sort of treatment. You pick up a needle (sterilised, of course) aim for a squidgy bit with loads of liquid, and give it a poke.
You can imagine what the outcome is.
Couple this with cheesy feet, and maybe you need quite a strong stomach for events like these.
Anyway, these kind of incidents came in waves - not in a steady stream of casualties, oh no - it was mega hectic moment, followed by a calming lul to prepare you for the next rush of blister-popping, ice pack-scrunching, bandage-wrapping, nose-holding scenarios that were suddenly about to unfold upon you.
I'm not really complaining, it was actually good fun that way. Made time fly anyway, and you know how it goes; time flies when you're having fun.
So, for me, the night was fun.
Especially as I got a shot on the quadbike with Steve :)
So, in total, I think those of us who were nuts enough to stay beyond the end of shift at 10pm on Saturday night, endured a rough and busy 16 hours worth of duty, by finally finishing at 5am on Sunday morning.
That was the longest duty I think I've ever done, but despite my sleep deprivation, I thoroughly enjoyed it.
And besides, I was able to grab a nap on a stretcher in the back of the ambo on the way home, alongside Graeme who almost collapsed onto the trolley bed on entering Red Echo 6.
Bless him.
What a weekend - blister bursting, eating breakfast at 3.30 in the morning, hijacking quadbikes and participating on non-existent shouts in the middle of a dark wood on top of a hill. Totalling to 16 hours. Call me mad, but I love it =P
Maggies, because its raising funds for the cancer charity.
Monster, because of it's glorious location around the banks of Loch Ness, I imagine.
And bike 'n' hike? Well, that's self explanitory. But when words like 'bike' and 'hike' are in the title of the event, you can be sure that there will be plenty of blisters coming your way.
Yet for the crew who came on duty at two o'clock, it started with silence. Seriously, tumbleweed should have been blowing through the first aid pit stop at Drumnadrochit; apart from marshals and first aiders, there was no one.
I think, apart from the occasional speedy person who arrived there exceptionally early, this significant lack of casualties continued on til early evening, when finally, after a lot of waiting around, killing time and eating chips, the first wave of injured cyclists/hikers trudged wearily in through our doors.
For such a large event, there's very little to say in the way of casualties. Injuries went as follows:
blisters, blisters, blisters, graze, blisters, sore knees, blisters, blisters, blisters, and so on - you get the idea.
Of course, with blisters there comes a different, yet very simple, sort of treatment. You pick up a needle (sterilised, of course) aim for a squidgy bit with loads of liquid, and give it a poke.
You can imagine what the outcome is.
Couple this with cheesy feet, and maybe you need quite a strong stomach for events like these.
Anyway, these kind of incidents came in waves - not in a steady stream of casualties, oh no - it was mega hectic moment, followed by a calming lul to prepare you for the next rush of blister-popping, ice pack-scrunching, bandage-wrapping, nose-holding scenarios that were suddenly about to unfold upon you.
I'm not really complaining, it was actually good fun that way. Made time fly anyway, and you know how it goes; time flies when you're having fun.
So, for me, the night was fun.
Especially as I got a shot on the quadbike with Steve :)
So, in total, I think those of us who were nuts enough to stay beyond the end of shift at 10pm on Saturday night, endured a rough and busy 16 hours worth of duty, by finally finishing at 5am on Sunday morning.
That was the longest duty I think I've ever done, but despite my sleep deprivation, I thoroughly enjoyed it.
And besides, I was able to grab a nap on a stretcher in the back of the ambo on the way home, alongside Graeme who almost collapsed onto the trolley bed on entering Red Echo 6.
Bless him.
What a weekend - blister bursting, eating breakfast at 3.30 in the morning, hijacking quadbikes and participating on non-existent shouts in the middle of a dark wood on top of a hill. Totalling to 16 hours. Call me mad, but I love it =P
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
