AMBULANCE STORY ~ WHERE DO YOU LIVE, LOVE, I CANNOT FIND YOUR HOME?

During my ambulance days I often drove a 'Pope Mobile'. This vehicle was ideal for the job of ferrying patients to and from hospital for kidney dialysis, particularly if they were seated in a wheelchair.  All my patients got to know me well and some of them had a sharp sense of humour to match mine.  I used to take my bit of double glazing Georgian Bar with me, since I am an agent for a local window company.  I sometimes held it up to them as they were entering the Pope Mobile, saying "Bless you, my son/daughter".  It always got a laugh and brightened their day a little.  

It was a cold dark night in the middle of winter.  I was meeting an elderly lady patient for the first time so I was serious and I certainly did not use my little cross on that particular night.  She was frail and in a wheelchair and had just completed her dialysis ~ she had just started with dialysis and was nervous and had recently moved from her own home into a nursing home, always a sad occasion for them.  Sometimes a patient's blood pressure drops after dialysis and that causes them to feel unwell, so she was feeling a little like that and I was trying to get her home and into the warmth as quickly as possible.  I knew the nursing home was nearby but it was brand new and I did not know exactly where it was located, apart from the general area.  The whole complex was newly built and not on any map, and certainly not on my SatNav. 

We approached where I thought it might be and I asked her if she recognised where it was and which way to go.  She said, "We are going in the wrong direction I think, if we turn round and travel the other way I might recognise where we are".   I turned round and we journeyed the other way and she said, "It's too dark and I can't see properly."  Stress was beginning to rear its ugly head and I saw a group of youths by some shops so I parked the vehicle and asked them if they knew where it was, but got the response, "Don't know, gov, try the cop shop up the road!"  I was taking a bit of a chance walking over to them because this area is the roughest in Bristol and people are mugged there quite frequently.  There were six of them and I would not have stood a chance.

I reached the police station and explained the situation and the policeman was quite concerned I had ventured out alone to see that group of 'yobbos', as he described them, saying they had loads of problems with their behaviour. I guess I must have been lucky that night.  He said he knew exactly where the nursing home was and said, "I'll take you, I'll hop into the police car and follow me".  I did, we got there and I thanked him and shook his hand.  I thought that was very decent of him.  It was very near where we had been looking but was hidden behind some wrought iron gates.  I got the lady inside and out of the cold and handed her over to her carer, feeling very relieved she was home safely and without incident.

We have had several instances of not knowing where to deliver patients ~ perhaps I shall tell you some of those stories soon.

AMBULANCE STORY ~ LED BY A BLIND MAN

Most of my work within the ambulance service centred around ferrying renal patients to and from hospital for kidney dialysis. Without 4 hours on special kidney machines 3 times a week these patients would not live much longer than a week. So we are fortunate to live in modern times where this technology is available.

Wherever possible a kidney transplant may be available, the ultimate holy grail, donated by a very kind person wishing to enable someone to live a normal life by donating organs in the event of them having a fatal accident. I am so happy that two of my former patients are now able to live complete and normal lives after receiving these priceless gifts ~ a kidney donation for each of my friends ~ wonderful.   I have said the meds can have any part of my body when the time comes, provided it is functional of course.

My story this week centres around a 90 year old patient, John, who lived 30 miles away inland from a coastal hospital, where he attended dialysis 3 times a week.

John had lost the use of both legs and the nurses used a hoist to get him in and out of bed into his wheelchair, where I pushed him up a ramp into our Pope Mobile ambulance transport, idea for those journeys. 

Safely secured onto wheelchair mounting fixtures onto the floor of the vehicle I was able to ferry him back to a nursing home where he lived with his wife, also a resident. The first time I met John we immediately hit it off and he loved it when he heard I was playing classical music on the journey.  I was not entirely sure of the route, although I did have my SatNav with me.  He said he would guide me along the route so I listened to his directions with the music in the background.  I remember he was particularly taken with Mendelssohn's 3rd Symphony, also a favourite of mine. 

Little did I know it but he was completely blind, it was not visibly obvious he was, yet somehow he knew exactly where we were at every point of the journey.  It was truly astonishing because he made remarks like, "In 200 yards there is a turn to the right coming, give way to vehicles coming to your left once you have made the turn", and "The road veers sharply to the left soon and it is quite a tight bend and quite a steep hill follows." That sort of thing ~ all the way.

It was not long before I realised he was completely blind and I expressed my astonishment that he knew exactly where we were all the time.  He said he knew that area like the back of his hand and that he could tell by the bumps and camber of the road and the bends and hills and road speed and what gear I was in, even the cats eyes striking the tyres.  He had a mental road map of the journey as we progressed and yard by yard he knew where we were.

He said that we were approaching the nursing home and explained exactly where the entrance was and where to park.

I got him out of the wheelchair and he thanked me for the lovely music and I said I would play it for him every time.  We got quite friendly and each time I brought him home I wheeled him to his room and had a chat to him and his wife, who always greeted us with a cup of tea and a cake.  The nursing staff were very friendly too and I got to know them quite well.

I remember on warm summer evenings, after I had delivered John safely, the journey back was truly lovely, across country and through Wells, a small Cathedral city in Somerset, and the views across the valleys were truly breathtaking against a striking red sunset ~ glad to be alive indeed. 

John got transferred to another hospital so we lost touch ~ I suspect both he and his wife have passed now.

I often think about my former patients. I consider myself most fortunate to have that job, caring and being with people ~ beats the pants off office work any day of the week, in my book.

Next time ~ I could not find where a patient lived and they were unable to tell me . . . HELP

AMBULANCE STORY ~ PLEASE COME AND SEE ME AGAIN

Here I am with Charlie, circa 2008.  We sometimes worked together, sharing driving and attending duties.

This particular day I was attending, which means sitting with the patient and making sure they are ok during the journey, making sure they are at ease and talking with them and sometimes introducing a little humour now and then, or just listening to them, often pouring out their tales of woe.  We were prepared for anything, literally . . . . . but this day surprised me greatly and was totally unexpected.

We arrived with a stretcher to pick up a lady patient to transfer her by ambulance to another hospital 25 miles away, a slow 45 minute journey, because this lady had a back problem and was in a lot of pain. She was due for surgery to replace four worn out discs in her spine.  Quite a dangerous procedure ~ and one incidentally my sister-in-law will undergo next year.

**************

I saw her pretty face, attractive and smiling; marred somewhat by lines of pain, yet still framing her bright, lively green eyes and long dark raven hair.  I suppose she must have been in her mid forties and she was lying on her front, since this was the only position seeming to offer her any comfort.  Her face showed pain, anguish and worry about the surgical ordeal she was soon to face and at once I felt a surge of empathy and sympathy for her.  I started reassuring her straight away that we would make sure she got as pain free a ride as we could possibly give her, and made her laugh when I said she would have to put up with me for 45 minutes or so while Charlie drove us. 

I cannot remember this lady's name now, but on that day her voice and laugh seemed very musical and I could see she really did have a cheerful disposition, currently buried beneath her painful circumstances.  We seemed to make a connection straight away ~ you know, sometimes we can meet a perfect stranger and immediately feel at ease with them, talk with them freely and effortlessly, and genuinely like them ~ I am sure we have all felt this at times.  On this day it seemed to work both ways for us.

Charlie and I managed to transfer her to the stretcher with a few instances of pain unfortunately, but settled her on the stretcher again and wheeled her to the ambulance, still lying face down. She was looking at me with those big green eyes all the way as we talked.  I sat with her for the journey and immediately we developed a kind of bridge of understanding and after several minutes I managed not only to reassure her that I had heard about many successful surgical procedures like she would have, but also I made her laugh ~ boy did I make her laugh. It was such a delight to see her laugh like that and sometimes I had to apologise when she actually belly laughed and I could see this hurt her back a few times.  She just dismissed that with a wave of the hand, preferring to enjoy the humour.  She said she had not laughed like that for many years, and quite frankly I had not heard anyone laugh like that for a very long time. I was just telling her some funny stories and experiences I had in my job and how we 'took the Mick' out of each other sometimes. Charlie, driving at the front, told me later she was highly amused.

Then, at a stroke, her eyes filled with tears when she told me how worried she was about the forthcoming surgery and her fear that things might go wrong, and would she ever be the same again and lead a normal life.  I took her hand and asked her if she would mind if I prayed for her and her face lit up and she really welcomed it, so I did.  She said I was so understanding and approachable and took and held my hand and squeezed it several times, and thanked me for my kindness.  It was a pleasure of course and I thoroughly enjoyed my job and trying to help people.

It turned out that our daughters had the same name and were the same age, although I had a son as well.  She told me where she worked, at a doctor's practice as a receptionist in the town we were headed and she hoped to be able to resume work there some day.  I said I knew the town very well and she actually told me the road she lived, and I knew it well.

It is very strange that the ambulance job did sometimes offer opportunities to really get to know people quickly and occasionally the intensity of the situation did affect emotions in quite a powerful way.

We arrived at the hospital, and transferred her to her new bed.  It was then she turned to me and said, "Please come and see me ~ I shouldn't really be saying this, but I think I have fallen for you and it would be so sad if I never saw you again!" I was so flattered ~ she was so nice and was extremely attractive, and I must admit it did my ego no harm to hear that, whatsoever. She knew I was happily married so there was no question of anything between us.  On my way out I looked back and saw she had managed to turn round and wave to me and I noticed a tear flow from one eye but did not know whether this was a tear of pain, or a tear for me. 

To this day I still don't know why she said that to me, or what caused her to say it.  Maybe she saw a temporary relief from her plight, which clouded her judgement . .  . who knows? . . . . maybe it was the uniform . . . . :)

I did go and see her again, a few times when I was in the area, because I wanted to see if she was alright after surgery. She had her operation ok, which was a complete success.  She was transferred back to Bristol for convalescence and I saw her again during my job, transferring another patient to that hospital. It was then I said goodbye and wished her well. I have often wondered how she is and whether she managed to get back to work, whether she is happy and enjoying life ~ we often wonder these things when our job with patients is over.

Well ladies, you can put your box of tissues away now . . .  I am afraid I cannot promise you another story like that one.
Aw . . . lol


Next week ~ how a blind man was able to direct me to his home, 30 miles away, from being strapped in a wheelchair in the back of a vehicle ~ quite unbelievable, but true.

AMBULANCE STORY ~ WE LOST DEAR JOHN

I like to post an ambulance story from time to time ~ I have done a number of these over the years and have a lot untold. I loved my work before I retired from the service over 5 years ago.  Principally I was involved with Patient Transfer duties, taking dialysis patients to and from hospital three times a week for a four hourly session on a dialysis machine, the only thing keeping them alive as their kidneys were no longer functioning.  

Also, I worked as a two man crew, or should I say two person crew because I worked with lady personnel sometimes.  This work sometimes involved driving and sometimes attending stretcher patients, sometimes carry chair transfer or wheelchair or just helping them into the ambulance.  When I started I quickly learned to relate to patients and to make them feel at ease, to amuse them, make them laugh, be sympathetic when required, and do whatever to make them more comfortable.  I remember on day one of my employment a senior paramedic was flabbergasted at my ability to talk to patients, remarking that he knew qualified paramedics who were not able to do that.

I got to know John very well and for three years I ferried him to and fro to hospital for dialysis.  He was the nicest elderly man one could ever wish to meet ~ he was always cheerful and never complained and always thanked me for the journey.  It was really a pleasure attending him. He had difficulty walking, so the nurses and I always transferred him into his wheelchair which I wheeled up the ambulance ramp, securing it to the floor mountings before we set off.  He shared the long journey with 5 other patients living over a wide area to the south of Bristol. The journey was often very picturesque during warm summer evenings when the sun was beginning to set set over the sea ~ try to imagine just how beautiful that was. We could see for miles and miles and we could just make out the Welsh coast 12 miles away across the shimmering sea, looking across the Severn Estuary ~ a delightful sight, punctuated by rays of light coming out of fluffy white clouds against the commanding backdrop of an angry red sky.

One day I was shocked to learn from a colleague, who drives emergency vehicles that John had had a bad fall at home one night and had to be rushed to hospital as an emergency. Sandy was on duty and was shocked to see it was John. She would have been driving on blues, weaving in and out of the traffic with blue lights flashing and siren, when required.  She knew John very well too and she and her colleague got him safely to Accident and Emergency, but we learned later that John had sustained a fractured hip.

During the course of the week a colleague and I were assigned to transport John from a hospital in Bristol  to another hospital 25 miles away for surgery.  We arrived at his bedside and although he recognised Steve and I, we saw he was very distressed.  With the assistance of two very nice nurses the four of us managed to PAT slide him on a Patient Slide Board onto a stretcher and wheeled him into the ambulance.  

John was in agony and we tried our best to make his journey as smooth and pain free as we could, arriving at the hospital less than an hour later.  We wheeled him to the ward and with the help of two nurses PAT slid him into bed, which was much more state of the art than this illustration shows ~ higher and with safety sides, plus electrically controlled controlled moving mattress in various positions to assist patient comfort.  You can imagine the stretcher moved alongside at a greater height and the patient rolled with four of us at each corner moving him as gently as we could towards us, sliding the board under him and then rolling him back gently onto the board and sliding him onto the bed. Alas John was very distressed as we did this transfer, even though both his legs were strapped together using the good one as a brace to reduce movement of the injured one ~ but we had to do it.

We stayed a while talking to him and making sure he was all right and he seemed much more comfortable so we left him.

Next day we were sickened to hear that he had died during the night before they even had a chance to consider operating ~ apparently the severe shock of the fracture plus the subsequent stress had caused him to have a fatal heart attack so he did not have a chance although they tried hard to get him back.

A week later I called to see his wife to express my sincere condolences. She said he had slipped when trying to transfer from his wheelchair to his arm chair and had fallen awkwardly and thought she had heard the break.  She appreciated me calling, which was the least I could do because we had got to know each other very well over the years. 

We always miss a lost one although renal patients generally do not survive for much longer than five years.  It was always sad in such situations but in spite of the sadness sometimes I really do miss that job, which I loved.  I felt free, useful, and free to be able to help people, almost hourly.  Beside that I got a real buzz out of it.

Patient/ambulance person/ nursing staff relationships sometimes get quite close with the emotion of it all and occasionally sometimes rather unusual things happen, as I will tell you next week, when a lady patient, after just a 25 mile journey told me she had fallen in love with me  . . . . . . . 

. . . . . . now ladies, that pricked your ears up didn't it?  . . . .  but true . . . . be patient ~ you will have to wait for the story . . . . . . . . a whole week  . . . .  lol

I am honoured to receive a Post Of The Week award from Hilary at The Smitten Image ~ 27 February 2015

BLIZZARDS THREATEN VITAL AMBULANCE JOURNEY

It was a cold winter's day and overnight it had been snowing very hard and Bristol awoke under a thick blanket of snow.

Roads were deep in snow and driving was very difficult since the gritter lorries were caught completely unaware.  We knew it was going to be a very difficult day for our ambulance duties. I managed to drive to the station armed with a snow shovel and two 2 ft wide and 6 ft rolls of carpet so if we were to get stuck we could use the carpet to gain traction. I had used them before to good effect.

Mike and I were scheduled to drive an ambulance to Weston Super Mare General Hospital 25 miles away but collecting 6 patients situated in several small towns around our destination, which meant a 40 mile round trip to the renal dialysis unit.  These renal patients have to have this treatment three times a week to stay alive and to get them there was essential and we would do whatever it might take to do it.  The world of the renal patient cannot stop just for a bit of snow.  Normally I drove the journey myself but that day no-one went solo - an extra person was assigned to every job in case we ran into difficulties. 

We set off with me driving and we had loaded the carpet strips and shovel just in case.  The roads were very slippery but manageable.  However cars were sliding about all over the place and we hoped one would not crash into us because we did not want to be delayed because of the patients. 

Fortunately there was not an excessive number of vehicles on the road since a lot of people had stayed at home, wisely heeding warnings given by the met office over the local radio. Even so the roads were pretty congested. We managed to get onto the main Bristol road south and at first we made some headway.  Our progress was short-lived because as we rounded a bend we were alarmed to see an articulated lorry blocking the entire road in both directions - it must have just happened.  We stayed for a few minutes and could see the driver's efforts to reverse were futile.  There was no way round it so we had to backtrack all the way to Bristol.

Mike rang the police asking if they knew a way through but they said all routes were impassable.  I said to Mike. "Blow that! - I know a way!"

Clifton Suspension Bridge engineered by Isambard Kingdom Brunel, opened 1864 

The snow conditions were much worse than this picture shows but for illustration purposes the road we wanted was a little further back to the left and across the river to the left.  It runs up the hill not too steeply and climbs 200 feet to the road we wanted.   I figured if we could make that hill we stood a good chance of getting round that lorry the long way.  

Fortunately there was nothing on the road and we did not meet anyone so I charged at the hill and was relieved when we maintained traction but skidding a little here and there. We could see the top of the hill but horror of horrors, a tree had come down and was three quarters blocking it so I had to go onto the wrong side of the road so we could maintain our speed. Fortunately nothing came the other way but by this time we were slipping all over the place but we just. and only just,  made it and from then on it was much easier.  We cut through and made our first pick up and managed to get the others one by one, with several adventures along the way.  I got Mike to ring the renal unit to say we were on our way and by the time we picked up the last patient we were only half an hour late, and forty minutes late at the unit, which was totally manageable for the nursing staff.

We got them all inside and were treated to a nice hot cup of tea and biscuits by our friends, the nurses who we knew well.

The return journey was much easier and when we got back to the station, control was very relieved to see us although we informed them of events from time to time during the day. Several of our ambulances had gone off the road and had to be towed back onto it but everyone was safe and most of the journeys were completed to plan . . . but not on time, which was entirely understandable.

Although our adrenalin was flowing pretty quickly I thoroughly enjoyed that day and felt a sense of achievement.

WHO IS THE PATIENT ?

Welcome to another story by Eddie, the eccentric ex-ambulance man.

This is a really weird story.  Once again I was driving the Sunshine Bus Ambulance, but this time my assignment was to pick up a lady patient, plus her helper, from a specialist unit at a hospital in Bristol, and take them home to Weston-Super-Mare, 25 miles away.

The worksheet described her as someone who suffers Narcolepsy, meaning liable to fall asleep at any moment, plus Apnoea, a condition where when asleep the patient can stop breathing for a while and then starts to do so - a condition which can prove fatal.  I thought it surprising that this lady had managed to survive at all let alone well into her adulthood.  

I knew there was a wheelchair involved, which was no problem since the ambulance had a ramp for wheelchair access.  The patient could either be transferred to a seat or remain in the wheelchair, strapped to the ambulance floor using special fixings and seat belt.

The specialist unit was in an unfamiliar part of the hospital, but I found it eventually and was surprised to see no lady in a wheelchair waiting.  

Instead I saw a rather frail lady pushing a wheelchair with a huge man seated.  She seemed a little excited and waved me over and said her name which matched the name on my worksheet.  Amazed, I told her I expected her, as the patient, to be in the wheelchair.  She said, "Oh! This is my husband.  I push him everywhere.  He has gone off his legs, you see! "

Slightly confused, I took over the wheelchair pushing and this guy was heavy - and I mean heavy.

We walked to the ambulance and I expressed some concern about her, the patient, pushing a heavy wheelchair.  She told me that the appointment had gone well and she was alright., but seemed more focused on her husband.  "The poor dear has gone off his legs and had a dreadful time recently with an attack of influenza."  The man was huge and I judged him to weigh over 20 stones (280 pounds).  I enquired about his health and he said he was much better, and we reached the ambulance with the ramp down all ready.  I pushed him up the ramp but he was heavy and as I did so he said, "I've lost a lot of weight recently, I used to be 25 stones (350 pounds) but now I am only 21 stones (294 pounds)."

My sense of humour surfaced and I said, "Thanks mate! That's made my job a bit easier!"

They both laughed and I strapped his wheelchair with him seated in it and we proceeded on our way.

I was mindful of her condition and did not want her to sleep and have the slightest chance of her stopping breathing so I kept talking to her all the way home and when we got almost there she said, "Just drop us off on the corner, our house is just a little way down the road."  

I got them out of the ambulance with him still in his wheelchair, and she insisted on taking over the wheelchair pushing, saying, "Oh, I often take him for a walk!  It's a lovely evening!"

And so we said our goodbyes and as they walked off into the sunset, and I stayed a while to make sure they got home safely.


I thought this was a very strange experience, but in that line of work nothing surprised us.




         

THE LOST AMBULANCE KEYS

Welcome to another story by Eddie, the eccentric ex-ambulance man.


"OMG", I said, "where are the keys?  I can't get into my ambulance, and this guy needs oxygen!"

Earlier, I had collected six renal patients and taken them to a General Hospital, near the sea for Renal Dialysis.  The idea was to wait four hours and then pick them up again, take the local ones home first and then those further afield.  

This vehicle we affectionately nicknamed "The Sunshine Bus" and I remember seeing the milometer clock through 100,000 miles on that inward journey. 

The delightful backdrop was my last port of call, a nursing home, where I collected "Tom" on our way to the Renal Unit. We did this three times a week.  Tom was a little backward and I gave him a job to do on the way in, to lookout for speed cameras, which he always remembered, and warned me about.  Dear Tom, I think I heard recently he has a new kidney transplant now, which is marvellous.

When I had finished delivering Tom, the last patient I received a call from 'control' to ask if I would go to the general departure lounge and take a gentleman in a wheelchair home. 

When I arrived I found the gentleman and noticed he was on oxygen which was no problem for me since I had all the equipment on board.  He said he could manage for a few minutes without oxygen while I pushed him in his wheelchair and fixed him up with oxygen in the ambulance. 

While I was doing something else a nurse transferred him from a chair to the wheelchair and I said goodbye and proceeded quickly to the ambulance.  

When I arrived I looked through my pockets for the keys, only to discover they were not there . . . . I searched again and to my horror they still were not there.  I said to the old boy I must have left my keys in the departure lounge and headed back and we quickly got him hooked up with oxygen again.  

I explained about the keys and looked everywhere retracing my steps and became concerned that I would not be able to get the six renal patients home.  I tried lost property, the reception desk - everywhere. 

I reported the matter to control, 25 miles away, who said they had found a spare key and the only person who could bring it down was the managing director - oh dear.

It was then a magical picture appeared in my head.  The patient must be sitting on the keys in the wheelchair - it was the only pace they could be.  I got back to the departure lounge and got the patient to stand up . . . . . .  and there they were staring at me on the seat!!  What a relief.

So I was able to stop the MD coming dawn, get the elderly man home with oxygen, and then all the patients home safely.

The nurses were quite amused in the renal unit when I told them.

I must have subconsciously put the keys down whilst attending to something else and meanwhile the nurse sat the patient down onto the keys . . . . . 

That is something I made sure never happened again.

FRIENDLY RIVALRY

I am writing these ambulance stories as they occur to me.

I worked for a private ambulance company called Wings, based in Bristol.  We had a great bunch of people working there.  Some were fairly quiet, some a little more extrovert and some were an absolute riot.  I suppose I fitted somewhere in the middle, but this chap took the biscuit:

Mad Mike - he was fabulous fun, as you may imagine and we had such a great times with him, yet he could be serious as well.  The unifying factor was patient care and dedication to the job and we all had that.  But Mike was so lively he was enough to brighten any dreary day - and he always did.

Here is another photo of him, full of fun:

I took the photo of the the three of them for the company magazine.  I always took the photographs.  On this occasion the three of them were just back from an intensive 5-day ambulance driving course in Cornwall and passed their Drive 2 exam, which meant they were now qualified to drive ambulances for emergency calls, using blue flashing lights and sirens.  Well done you three.

They were great friends, Phil, about 26 and an ex-paratrooper from an elite army regiment, Charlie, a lovely girl and, Mike, about 40's.

I was about 20 years older than Mike but very fit in my ambulance days and could keep up with any of them:

Here is one of me with Charlie:

We were all good friends at Wings and I suppose there must have been over 30 ambulance staff, comprising both sexes - one big happy family.  We were all so sad when it disbanded.

One day we were lifting some heavy gear and Phil and Mike were quite surprised to see me managing so well and remarked that they were a bit surprised I could do it so easily.

I laughed and said, "They don't make 'em like they used to", and challenged them right there and then to an arm wrestling contest.  The just laughed and said, "You must be joking - you stand no chance - ok show us!"

Off we went and found a desk and I said to Mike, "You first!"

He said, "Are you sure? you stand no chance - I'll pulverise you!" , because he was about 20 tears younger, you see.

I said, "We'll see!"

Anyway we started left hand first and I saw him wince after a minute and start really straining and then over went his arm. Same using the right arm - he stood no chance and they both were flabbergasted and we all started laughing.

Then it was Phil's turn, remembering he was 26 and an ex paratrooper and I was 60.  I said, "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"  He was in hysterics and then we settled down to some serious arm wrestling.

Well I did not beat him with either arm . . .  but he did not beat me either . . . . it was stalemate!!  

They were both so stunned - bet I couldn't do it now!

Oh what fun we had.

I have often wondered what happened to these guys - I see some of the others from time to time and we always give one another a big hug when we meet.

It was all great fun and a privilege to serve in the Ambulance Service and boy, don't I miss it.

A TALE OF JACK - AMBULANCE STORY

Alas, Jack is no longer with us - I heard he passed away two years ago.  He was a much loved patient during my days with the Ambulance Service - everyone liked him. 

Jack was a double amputee and a renal patient.  He lost both legs to Type 1 Diabetes a number of years ago, and then both kidneys failed, and he almost died.  Fortunately he recovered but he had to have four hours of kidney dialysis three times a week for the rest of his life.  He was considered too old for a transplant and our private ambulance company had the contract to take him  to and return him from the renal unit three times a week.  He lived 40 miles away and so it was something of a day out for him and he looked forward our company.  He loved being with us and chatting and telling and hearing jokes.  He really did have a great sense of humour.

In spite of his disability he was the life and soul of the party and put aside all the hurt and disappointment of his failing health.  His wife was a lovely lady, of similar disposition, and often gave us a piece of cake and a cup of tea before we wheeled Jack to our vehicle, often a Pope-Mobile like one of these. 

We wheeled him up the ramp and secured the wheelchair with fittings, which incorporated a seat belt.

Sometimes we arrived in a large ambulance and he pretended to get all excited and say, "Can we drive on sirens and blues and watch them all get out of the way?"

"Sorry Jack - it's not an emergency!"

"Oh! you spoil sport!", he would say, and clutched his chest in jest.

You had to watch Jack's keen sense of humour.  He loved playing tricks on us, particularly new ambulance personnel.  I remember the first day I met him I had him secured in the Pope-Mobile  and was about to drive away when he said, "Sorry! I have forgotten something!".  I stopped and said, "Ok Jack . .  What is it? . . . I'll pop back to get it for you!"

He said, his face deadpan, "My slippers!" 

I said, "OK", and was just about to leave the vehicle and I heard him laugh and then it dawned on me! . . . and we both laughed and he said, "Slippers! I get you chaps every time with that one!"

On the way he saw a pub and said, "I wish I was in there, I'd soon get legless!" . . . or engineer another situation where he would say he did not have a keg to stand on.

It seems a bit macabre for him to say things like that, but it was his way of dealing with the situation.  Yet underneath it all I knew he was sad, and so were we.  

He used to like being driven along by all the attractive young ambulance ladies and when I arrived sometimes he would say, "How disappointing, I was hoping it would be Michelle or Natasha or whoever!"
Well I wonder, can you blame him?

  Then he would say,  "It's ok Eddie - you can tell me some jokes instead!"



I said, "Now listen Jack, I am driving the Pope -Mobile, so I have got just one thing to say to you!"

"What's that, Eddie?"

Holding aloft my piece of double glazing

"Bless you, my son!"  

Eddie with his bit of double glazing which got a few laughs


Boy did he laugh.

Yes, Jack was quite a character and is sadly missed but I expect he is making someone laugh up there in the blue yonder.  He just made the best out of life and we all admired him for it.


There are quite a number of patients we got really close to - you just can't help it in that job, and it was almost heartbreaking when they died as they invariably did after a few years with failed kidneys - even with dialysis.



I'll write a few more ambulance stories from time to time.  I just need to jog my memory first.  I will put my thinking hat on.

(In the interests of confidentiality Jack was not his real name - neither do I use real names in my stories, except mine!!)

Fond Memories Of A Dear Patient

Some of you have requested I post the story about the dear lady I mentioned in my previous post when answering the question about my most poignant moment. This was my first ever post which I am amending to fully remove the identity of the lady and the hospital involved. When time permits I shall be writing a series of stories about my Ambulance Service days. Some are touching and some are hilarious. This story is true, but I am making it entirely anonymous, like I should have done at the outset. So here it is - get a box of tissues ready because it is very sad.

The sun had set upon the life of a dear lady. Tears welled inside me as I put pen to paper to write a sympathy card for the family. This is so silly of me acting this way, I thought. It goes against all our basic training, “Be kind but don’t get too involved with them!” Anyway, this dear lady was no relative of mine, nor friend of particularly long standing, yet in a way I think I had grown to love her. She had become so dependant on me, and she was so demanding. Love often stems from total dependency.

At the end of her life she became remarkably awkward – she did everything the wrong way round. I offered her the left arm of her coat first when helping her into it, but she gave me her right hand and consequently so often she ended up wearing her coat the wrong way round. She always reprimanded me for 'getting it wrong'. I asked her quite frequently if she was dyslectic or if she had been a breech baby. Certainly, she was so impatient she must have been a premature baby – never could she have lasted the full nine months! She kept us all on our toes constantly!

But she was so nice and so generous with her sweets and chocolates and kind words, and she had an infectious smile and charm, all of her own. I remembered on one occasion arriving at the hospital pushing this lady in her wheelchair. There was a real commotion when she stood up, veering sharply to the left with me trying to hold her upright, whilst trying to take off her coat as well - what a struggle! "What are you trying to do to me, strangle me?"

"Don't tempt me!" was my reply. Even she saw the funny side and one of the nurses nearly fell off her chair laughing. It was the highlight of the morning us arriving, or should I say, this lady arriving at the Dialysis Unit - what a personality she was.

Another time she was carrying a zimmer frame whilst I pushed her in the wheelchair. "Watch out folks a Dalek is coming!" I laughed, and she joined in the fun shouting, "Exterminate them! Exterminate them!" We enjoyed sharing the fun with the nurses. The number of times I nearly broke my neck tripping over on her wretched zimmer frame - it was always in the way, with nowhere to put it in the ambulance except on my front passenger seat. There was usually an amusing incident or two because she was a great character. How I miss those humorous times with her.

With fond memories like this, I returned to the task of writing the sympathy card in my best handwriting, choosing my words carefully. After all, this very special lady was 93 years young, a renal patient whom I had been taking back and forth to the Dialysis Unit three days a week for well over two years.

I was so pleased she was a committed Christian. I had no worries whatsoever about her salvation. We had talked about such things many times and I told her that one day, in the next life, we would both be young again and we would have a race and she would win. "You bet I will", she said, "can't wait to lick you!" She was a very competitive type. During an earlier conversation she had told me that after the death of her daughter, taken from her at an early age, she felt a very strong presence and saw a face of a young girl in the clouds smiling at her lovingly, as though the girl intended to convey to her, "It's alright Mum, I'm OK, don't worry." She told me that after that experience she felt much better.

I began to write:
Safe in the loving arms of Jesus.With fondest memories of a very kind and wonderful lady who I shall miss, more than words can say. I consider myself extremely privileged that our paths crossed and I was so pleased to have been able to help your mother, albeit in a small way.

Throughout her suffering there was only a good word for others, a lovely smile on her face and she possessed a great sense of humour - my we had some fun together.
All my colleagues at the Ambulance Service are saddened at her passing - she was highly regarded and loved by all.

She is now reunited with her husband and daughter - taken away so cruelly when so young.

I know I have a friend in Heaven and I know that Earth's loss is Heaven's gain.

My thoughts and prayers are with you all at this sad time.

God Bless you all.
Eddie
I folded the card and placed it inside the envelope and thought back to happier times just three months before. There were three patients in the ambulance en route to the Dialysis Unit. This lady was seated in her usual place with a blanket of course, just passing through her home village, on our way to collect another patient at a town near the sea.

This second lady was another special lady, whom I shalll call Pearl. I fondly remember the look on her face when I handed her Christmas card with the words inside, "To Pearl, the nicest little gem in the whole jewel box".

"I shall always keep this", she smiled.

(Sadly she has died as well - in fact most of my patients have but I heard the other day two of the younger men have had successful kidney transplants. I heard this great news six months after my retirement. I jumped for joy. There was a time I lost so many patients I was given the nickname, The Terminator.)

The journey's silence was broken when my first lady saw the village cross mounted on some steps, situated in the Town's square, where she grew up. "I was born here, you know - see that cross with the steps? I used to jump off that when I was a little girl." I pulled over and stopped the ambulance. "Are you going to show us how you did it?"

She retorted in words she often used to me when I teased her. "Don't be such a silly ass!", she said, laughing, and we proceeded on our way. A few miles on she said, "See that house? My dad was born there". I could not help thinking that it was as though she realised that she would not see these things many more times. Earlier, I had picked her up from her bungalow. I knew the key password and let myself in. There was just time to feed the cat and get her ready. She needed her boots on so I bent down on one knee and helped her put them on. She used to enjoy a little bit of jesting so I said, "Darling, will you marry me? Look I'm on my knees!"

"Then you'd better say your prayers, you silly ass!" was the reply. I helped her to her feet. She was nowhere near as able to walk as she had been even recently with her zimmer frame. I was becoming very worried about her - I almost had to carry her once or twice and I found her lying on the floor one morning. I had to report the incident, of course but she was very worried what the authorities would do. She always wanted to die at home and she was very concerned that she might be 'put away' in a nursing home. There was nobody else there during the day because her son was at work. Of course the home help carers came twice a day but that was not enough. Her condition deteriorated rapidly until she could not walk at all and I used to wheel a wheelchair in through the back door and out to the ambulance.

The nurses at the Dialysis Unit and I worked together to make her life as comfortable as possible - we all knew she was slowly dying, and so did she. One Friday was the last time I took her in for treatment. I remember very well on that evening, after treatment, assisting a nurse with her onto the scales, into her coat and into her wheelchair. The nurse talked comfortingly to her, saying she would soon be home. That was the last time they saw her.

Next Monday morning I arrived at her house and sensed that was all different - that it would never be the same again. She was not ready - she was in bed. She smiled at me as I entered her room – I shall never forget it. She said, "I'm not going to go for dialysis any more. I'm so tired and unwell, and I want to end it all now – I have decided that it is time for me to see my husband and my daughter again, and Jesus."

She kissed me on the cheek affectionately and thanked me for all I had done for her, and for my kindness. In a way I think she loved me too. She was so sincere. It was genuine gratitude which was very touching. For the last few weeks I had been intending to get a photograph of us together but kept forgetting my camera – now there was no chance of this, regrettably. I tried hard to persuade her to continue with dialysis - I knew that without it her body would be poisoned and she could not last much more than a week. I gave her six chances to change her mind over the next few days by which time her relatives were there at the bungalow. This wonderful lady was resolute and we all respected her wishes - it was indeed time for her to go, it was her decision and she had made it.

The funeral service at her local Church was very uplifting. She had organised it all a long time ago. She had chosen her favourite hymns including, "Rock of Ages" and "Abide with me". I was very touched when the Vicar, noticing me in uniform seated at the back of the church, said, "I see this lady's Ambulance Man is here". I nodded. "Wonderful", he said.

Goodbye, dearest friend
God Bless and RIP

I told you you would need a box of tissues

I am highly honoured to recieve Post Of The Week for this post which means a lot to me: the post and the award. Thank you Hilary of The Smitten Image, 9th June 2010

If you enjoy a nice cry and have the tissues with you then you might like to read
Funeral For A Wonderful Lady

My First Day as an Ambulanceman

I joined my present private ambulance company in November 2005

The owner of the company, Roy, was annoyed with Danny, a Paramedic.
Danny had taken Roy's jeep to the Pathology Department in the centre of Bristol. His mission was to view a post mortem - the gruesome thing!!

Roy is a member of the Salvation Army and plays the cornet in their beautiful band - they make a super sound - cool as you Americans would say. Roy was due for a practice session in a couple of hours . . . . . AND . . . . his musical instrument, including some of his fellow band members' instruments were in the jeep, which was hi-jacked by Danny and now in Bristol.

Jeepers!!! Roy was fuming!! "Why couldn't Danny take another car?", Roy insisted.

My first ever mission was to seek and locate this jeep at the Pathology Department, find Danny and Exchange cars - sounds simple, but I was not exactly sure where the Path Lab was.

I knew the general direction and called into the hospital where I thought it was and asked for the Pathology Department. I was greeted by a DEADPAN look by a 'thicko' on reception who uttered these immortal words, "Dunno Gov!", with not an offer to find information from elsewhere.

Not wishing to be put off by such negative vibes I proceeded across the road to an older and more promising possible location and knocked on the door - NOTHING! Knocked again - NOTHING!

A woman came out of a building next to this, saw me in my ambulance uniform and asked me if she could assist me. I mentioned that I was looking for the mortuary and had knocked on this door and noticed THERE WAS NO SIGN OF LIFE there!! Thinking this was exactly the criteria I was seeking, and suggesting I had reached the correct location, I was rather put off when the woman went into hysterical laughter and informed me that there were no STIFFS in that building and the place I wanted was just down that lane. She proceeded to give me precise instructions and completed the conversation by commenting I was far too late to assist anyone there from a medical viewpoint. I complimented her on her keen sense of humour and we had a good laugh and I proceeded on my way, sensing time was ebbing away.

With a new spring in my step I strode to the new venue and was transported to the mortuary and into the pathology department. I was aware of locating not only Danny the Paramedic but also a row of silent companions with sheets over them and their feet sticking out of the end as though they were lying at ease, all well regimented and silent. Danny was a bit put out at this interruption - the pathologist was just removing the front of a rib cage, just like Professor Gunther von Hagens did on his rather contentious TV live autopsy programmes. The officials did not mind anyone watching them work but my knees were beginning to shake a bit and I felt a bit squeamish, so I left pronto.

We swapped cars and JEEPERS again I had a huge learning curve because the jeep was an automatic and I had never driven one . . . . . AND . . . . it was a BRUTE and was parked in a small car park with only inches to spare between several cars. So I learned to drive it in the car park and without scraping anything I managed to get the jeep onto the main road and home to base.

I was greeted by Roy, the red faced MD who said, "Well done" and proceeded to take control and dash off into the sunset with blues and sirens going . . . quite illegally since there was no emergency . . . and off to band practice.

That was quite enough excitement for my first day, do you not think?
Oh I did not include a link to an Autopsy website - I sense you are not that keen to see one.

___________________________________________________________

In conclusion I must apologise for not visiting many of your sites lately - I am very busy with ambulance work and a new job there - I shall visit you as soon as I can. Meanwhile I can still push out an ambulance story or two and I am working on another 'biggy' - watch this space!!!