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...

+Manchester National Assembly '09+

Better late than never!

Picture the scene - early on Friday morning, a large coach pulls up outside Elgin Red Cross HQ. it looks lush, comfy; a decent bus to be wasting around 9 hours of your life on, with a luxurious burnt orange and vomit-yellow coloured interior. Nice.

We run to the back row, and make ourselves comfortable. With Radio 2 playing loud 'n' proud from the overhead speakers, we set off on our incredibly long journey to no other place than Manchester...

It really did take ages. No joke. Thankfully we had several pit stops along the way to kill any monotony. But just cos it took a while, doesn't mean it wasn't a fun road trip. We actually had awesome back-of-the-bus-banter yet again as we traversed the winding motorways through Scotland's picturesque hill-land, across the borders and into the sudden flatness of Englandshire.





On-board entertainment included Radio 2, DVDs, the best of Kenny Rogers, photo shoots, story telling, joke telling, almost running over bad drivers as they cut in front of the bus after overtaking, iPod guessing games, and squashing Graeme on the back row until his face turned purple.

Off-board banter included cursing slow cash machines, deciding between Burger King and another random diner-style cafe for lunch, racing each other to the toilets, piggy-back races (to the amusement of several lorry drivers as well as our rather large gang of first aiders), buying Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream, admiring England's unusually level countryside, and speaking in broad Scots lingo to the locals of our English rest stops.



And finally, after all 9, 10 or however many hours it took to get there, we reached the suburbs of Manchester. We looked out of our windows eagerly as we continued on through the city centre, waiting to catch a glimpse of our home for that night. Then suddenly, as we hit the busy central roads, we saw it - MacDonald Hotel. We were there yet again, a whole year on. I personally marvelled at that fact, because in the space of a year, we had all changed quite a bit. And if it wasn't appearances that had changed, it was definitely relationships. Last year had been good in my eyes because I was getting the chance to meet everyone and bond with them; it was sort of eliminating my newness as a member of the team. This year was great because we all knew each other for the better, so our closeness throughout the trip was immense. Now that we were at the actual hotel, the prospect of decent food and bar-banter really put the feather in the cap for the whole team =]




So, after checking in, checking out the rooms, and tucking in to a decent bit of buffet, we began to make ourselves comfortable in our posh accommodation. Once again, the North Scotland Crew, in all our entirety, dominated the best seats in the bar, and made merry with the drink we bought <smuggled> in. As the night wore on, some people - once again - became slightly drunker than others. They all know fine who they are; be thankful I'm not naming any names... this time...


BUT... Graeme did do a fantastic rendition of the Scouting/Guiding favourite "Boom-Chika-Boom," to which myself and Lauren graciously joined in with. Thank God we've got it on video.
Yes, it will be uploaded as soon as I get a copy.
Yes, it is really entertaining, because yes, he is indeed drunk.


So the night wore on, and with an early start the morn we eventually drifted off to bed, leaving the drunken company of our fellows behind.

Some lucky sods slept... Caitlind... but others didn't. It didn't help that there was every ER vehicle from each emergency service in the Manchester area screeching past our window every five seconds. It also didn't help that the room was very hot, and I needed the loo, but I was fearful of trying to walk straight in the dark.
Yes, that is me admitting to my also slight alcoholic-walking-issue that comes with several of Graeme's Turbo Shandies... amongst others...


Anyhoo... the morning finally came, and somehow we all managed to face a cooked breakfast before setting off on our morning jaunt down to the conference centre, to witness the almighty presentation that is the British Red Cross Manchester National Assembly 2009!

Beautiful irony here - as we all gathered on the hotel steps for a group photo, an ambo pulled up at the entrance on blues 'n' twos. We imagined a right dogpile of first aiders all eagerly trying to help the poor collapsed soul within. Of course, Maggie, in her ability to lighten any situation with the most appropriate lines, shouted, "Alright, who ordered the taxi?!"

We found it hilarious - the pair of wifie paramedics probably didn't - but it was worth it.
I of course hope that whoever was in dire need of medical assistance got it, and is now alive and well =]


So, the assembly!
Well, it was pretty much the same as last year, with more heart-wrenching stories to tug the tears from our eyes, and more exhibition stands displaying an abundance of freebies - some people looked as though they'd been on a shopping spree; saying no names! There were even nice little RC mugs on the go... as Steve says, the finest bone-plastic money can buy!
What made this year's assembly different though was the Awards for Excellence ceremony we had going on, complete with its own titles and funky bass-beat theme tune, which Ian and me totally liked, going by the bopping of our heads every time it came on.

It was a nice touch - the ceremony I mean, nae the music - and it was good to honour some of the amazing things the Red Cross has been doing throughout the UK, and overseas.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and after heart-felt songs from young carers, indepth and thought-provoking interviews from several volunteers, reflective videos of the crisis' the organisation has been continually supporting throughout the years, and a birthday tribute to the Battle of Solferino and therefore the birth of the Red Cross, four o'clock came.
It was time to smuggle out our name cards and board the bus for home.

The journey home almost mirrored the journey there, except it involved a lot more sleeping... and therefore silence... until Lauren and me turned on my iPod and pretty much crucified every once-decent song in existance which happened to come on. I actually think we worked our way through all 598 songs! Not singing them all, of course, just a healthy balance of listening too. Although it's an insentive for next time... moo ha ha...


Long story short - for it has been a long story so far - we dropped everyone off at their respective ports of call, before us Elgin crew finally returned to HQ at half past one on Sunday morning. Bleh... it was a total groggy-feeling moment.
Seriously, you feel well rough after spending several hours on the same vehicle, watching crappy films about rogue cops who end up shooting everyone in sight but turning out to be innocent even though they ended up burning down half a building to prove that they were a good guy after all... ?


But also seriously, ManNA is one of thee best trips to go on with your RC chums, especially if they're anything like the people who I know and love.
We may be a big gang when we get together, but we all know one another, and there is still that strength of friendship and, to an extent, family, which we share with one another through thick and thin. I like the idea of a Red Cross family. I do indeed see them as a second family.
After all, as I said to Caitlind the other day, you don't need blood to class someone as family; you can have family through the love of friendship too.

And on that corney conclusion, it's goodnight from her, and goodnight from her.

And on the side of things...

Here's just a side note...

...I passed my driving test last Wednesday =]

Had to be said.

*beams*

It's T.T Time!

By T.T, I don't mean T-total... that's still applicable until Manchester NA on Friday night =]

No, what I mean is this weekend was in fact Trauma Management training, and muggins & Co became casualties for the two days, getting bloodied up (again) and freezing our asses off for people to treat us.

Apart from the potential hypothermia, it was actually an ace weekend. Saturday was a workshop day, which Caitlind and I observed/joined in with on the odd occassion, with today (Sunday) consisting of several scenarios set up to test the skills of our unsuspecting first aiders. Now try saying that last line when you're drunk!

It was interesting watching everyone, and experiencing the different ways in which groups treated you. Everyone had their slightly different methods of dealing with your injury, and admittedly some were slightly better than others!

So rather than letting words describe, I'll let pictures do the talking instead.

Ambo Ambo, woop woop!


Stage One - the gluing process...

Final stage - the full thickness burnage!

Secondary survey - this is how Red Crossers break the ice; if you didn't know someone before, you will now.


Advanced airway management... of sorts


Bag, Valve and Mask - can be confusing!

The rather attractive and one-of-a-kind BRC woolly hat, which a colleague gave me for added warmth during a scenario. On discovering I pretty much suited it, I stole it for the rest of the day. I now have my own one =]

Snow!

Snow fell again in bonnie Elgin today, covering the already icy, yet gradually clearing, pavements and roads with another thick carpet of frosty whiteness. The sort of snow with the perfect consistency for snowball making.

So when my mate Judith and me rounded the corner of the Red Cross car park tonight and saw our boss scraping the snow from the pathway, we knew it was time for some snowball madness.

Slyly, we approached him, hiding our icy ammo behind our backs.

Then when he wasn't looking... bam! Snowball attack =]

We got him good, but he had a shovel and got me back twice as good.
That makes it sound like he hit me with it. That's not the case, as I'm sure you'll be glad to hear; rather he just scooped up a whole heap of snow and catapulted it over me. So it wasn't that bad.

Later on round two commenced, but this time over the bonnet of an ambulance.
Yes, maybe this is gross misuse of RC property, but it made a really good defence line to hide behind.

Blast from the past

Yesterday (that's Sunday for future readers) was the day for the Half Marathon between RAF Kinloss and RAF Lossiemouth. Despite snow and ice, the show still went on, and surprisingly it did so very successfully.

Yes, despite the cold, the icy puddles, the snowy pavements and ungritted roads, people still ran through the countryside for, in my opinion, some inexplicable reason other than to top their last running time, which is, of course, very important.

And did we get any casualties?

No.

I'm not sure how it happened, so don't ask. Just ponder about it yourself as to how almost 173 runners reached the finish line unscathed after battling a frosty winterland.

Although saying that, the sun was shining, the day was dry and clear, and if you skirted around the ice I'm sure it was an ace day for running. It was equally an ace day for sitting in a toasty ER vehicle, or in a warm gym hall, waiting for the non-existent casualties to appear.

I remember the same thing happening last year actually, without all the snow and ice. And this year we got soup and muffins to snack on, rather than left overs of mouldy sandwiches and squidgy doughnuts. And a fact is that the run was held a week earlier than last year, because I'm sure it was on the 17th of February last year, rather than the 8th.

I remember such a thing for random reasons.

However the people who show face at such events never change. I certainly saw a couple of people who I recognised, who I don't think recognised me.

Although I don't think I've changed that much in the space of a year, have I?

^ Me & my best bud in the Gym hall, highlighting the fact that her new haircut is somewhat like mine, but a bit longer. She was trying to grope my ass the whole way through that photo shoot, hence her cheeky grin.

Ghostly sirens...

Thunder growls in the distance.
The skies are thick with cloud, the darkness of night shrouding the valley in mystery.
Suddenly a crash of lightening splits the sky, and illuminates the stones walls of an ancient castle, looming through the dark as eerily as Dracula’s Transylvanian home...

...Actually, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Let me put it into a better context. It was dark and gloomy, and the rain did dribble down the front windscreen of our mini bus as we approached Carbisdale’s stone walls, but there was no thunderstorm...which was a pity, because it would have really added to the effect of the scene.

Carbisdale Castle is located in the rolling valleys of Sutherland, or in other terms, is sitting in the middle of nowhere amidst the Scottish Highlands. It’s beautiful and vast scenery – with spacious accommodation within the Castle walls – makes it the ideal place to drag about a hundred first aiders across the North of Scotland for a weekend of Emergency Response training, a belated Burns Supper, and a ceidlih. Now that I’ve done my bit of holiday hotspot guiding (I should go into the brochure industry!) I’ll tell you about what really happened during this entertaining weekend.

Our first achievement was actually reaching the place. From our Elgin office came a fleet of four vehicles; two Red Cross ER vehicles, and two Arnold Clark hired mini buses slotted in between for a good balance. We drove along to Inverness, picked up a further three ER vehicles from our BRC depot on the outskirts of the “Gateway to the Highlands,” and drove on up through the Highlands into the county of Sutherland. Our brave minibus driver/ fellow first aider navigated the twisting roads with great skill (after stalling three times) but despite there being a RC ambo parked outside the entrance to the Castle grounds, we still managed to drive three miles beyond the gates. Ok, this was the fault of our leading vehicle, but let’s not point the finger of blame here. It only meant that a convoy of seven large vehicles ranging from 4x4s to ambulances had to somehow turn around in a single track road – using only a passing place and narrow field entrance – and make their way back down the road to the gates. This might explain why we eventually reached Carbisdale at 9pm rather than an hour or so earlier, and therefore missed supper...

Anyway, we made it, and after being allocated rooms – all of which varied in temperature because three out of the seven ancient boilers which heated the now-youth-hostel were broken – we slept through to Saturday morning. When a fiery dawn broke over the distant hills, each first aider arose to fight for a freezing shower, grab a proper greasy breakfast, and generally mingle.
There were many first aid groups there, the largest possibly being from Inverness. Then of course there was us (the Elgin crew) and Aberdeen. From in between our cities there came many other smaller groups, but all Red Cross first aiders none-the-less, all equally as passionate about the job as the next crew, and all raring for the day’s workshops to kick off.

Both Saturday and Sunday consisted of planned workshops, taking place in different locations in and around the castle grounds. They varied from splint workshops, to “casualty packaging” to Swift Water Rescue training for the swifties present amongst the gang. Then of course there was the chance to get bloodied up for casualty scenarios, and an opportunity to order some people about via radios during the Communications workshop. There were a few talks on the go too, with one being on First Aid in Water, and Water Awareness, and Time Critical Interventions (coupled with a chance to play about in the Field Hospital unit) and a different one based on ER Logistics, which was surprisingly interesting and good fun. All this and more were spread out over the two days, and somehow we managed to slip lunch and supper time in between. As I said before, we arranged a belated Burns Supper for Saturday night (yum, haggis, neaps and tatties time!) and a ceidlih to follow, which carried on way into the early hours of the morning and was fuelled mainly by a slight presence of alcohol... Even first aiders have to unwind some how!
However, all good things must come to an end, and after a fun-filled, highly educational weekend, Sunday afternoon came and with it came home time. We piled ourselves back into our respective buses, ambulances, 4x4s and other ER vehicles of different origins, and set off for home.

That night, the moment my head touched the pillow of my own snug bed, I was dead to the world; yes, it was that tiring. But on reflection now I can see just what an amazing weekend it had been. It was fun, yes, and admittedly it allowed for a lot of banter, some sober, and some...otherwise... Yet on a serious note, the weekend gave everyone there the opportunity to meet new people and learn new skills, as well as develop the old ones. Every workshop was educational and fun, allowing for everyone to join in and get to grips on how to deal with certain situations, as well as how to handle the equipment and know when to use it. I can safely say I have come home with a lot more knowledge of first aid and Emergency Response workings than I had before hand. I’ve gained new experiences, met – and made friends with – new people, and have strengthened the bonds with those of my own group (ah, I love cheesy conclusions).

But really, training weekends like Carbisdale are so important in topping up your knowledge stores and increasing the relations between the different branches. It means that when it comes to working together (cue another cheesy sum-up) it means we can do so with confidence and understanding of one another’s abilities and experiences, and maintain that sense of friendship with them. It’s beneficial for us, and for those we help, so we need training weekends like Carbisdale.

It’s not just for the drink, honest.





The amber glow of the fiery sky on Saturday morning.






Carbisdale's eerie front, with it's old clock tower watching over the car park. Sinister...




One of the ER vehicles and the entrance in the background. Notice my camera skills as the rear end of the vehicle is perfectly in line with the vertical of the tower =]





I took this picture, and liked it.