Consult the workers not insult them

Our jobs could be made so much easier if only the Ambulance service would listen to those in the know. Us. The road staff. After all it is us that have to work with some of these ideas dreamt up by someone in an office who was working for B&Q as a kitchen designer and has absolutely no idea about designing a modern ambulance. I had the pleasure of meeting our Director of Vehicle Procurement (why he needs bird shit and scrambled egg on his shoulders is beyond me) when we took delivery of some new vehicles and unintentionally told him what I thought of his wonderful new ambulance design.

My trust always bought it's ambulances from the now defunct UVM (or UVG when I joined). We use a mixture of Renault van conversions, Mercedes 416 Premia and 515 Modular vehicles. UVM were a coach builder who designed a body to fit a chassis. They had ambulance road staff on the design panel and as they had been building ambulances for a while, they kind of knew what they were doing. Unfortunately they went bust a few years back meaning our vehicles had to be sourced from elsewhere and German manufacturer WAS were given the contract.

When the trust were looking to replace some of the aging ambulances (some were T registered!) a few years ago they set up an "ambulance design workshop". Each station was asked what its staff would like from a new ambulance and were invited to offer design ideas. These ideas would be taken to the manufacturer and submitted to their design consultants and we would get an ambulance that everyone was happy with. Or so we thought.

So the day arrived when the first of our new ambulances was delivered. Like a magpie to a shiny thing I headed over to the truck and slid the side door open to have a look around. After about 30 seconds I slammed the door and shouted across the garage to my crew mate "WHICH DICKHEAD SIGNED OFF THIS HEAP OF SHIT"? From my left came a disappointed "Uh.... that would be me. Are you not happy with it? You've only taken a brief look inside". "It's a shit design" was my reply. And that was the first time I met the Direct of Vehicle Procurement.

After a good 10 minutes I had flagged up so many issues with the design that I was asked to write them all down and submit them officially before any more were delivered. They were all small issues that should never have even been an issue if the trust had listened to the ideas that staff came up with. After meeting with the WAS rep a few weeks later it turns out that the trust had never submitted any of the ideas from road staff. The idiot who designed kitchens for B&Q submitted his own design to WAS and they duly built the design.

I'm sure there are other examples of outsiders coming in and trying to stamp their mark on the service. Unfortunately what might keep some share holders in champagne at the annual Christmas party won’t work when it comes to an emergency service. An ambulance or RRV is our office for 12 hours a day. They are our home away from home.

Please, listen to us for a change.

2001 - 2011

This day 10 years ago 343 Fire and EMS officers, 23 NYPD officers and 37 NY Port Authority officers gave their lives to save so many. We salute them.

In memory of all those who never went home.

Driven to distruction

It's been a while since I've posted a new blog as I've been lacking the motivation and inspiration of late. However, over the past few weeks, whilst riding my motorbike I have nearly met with the maker on a number of occasions. All, I must add, through no fault of my own. So in a change to my normal target of the NHS I have decided to write this blog about some observations I have made on Britain’s roads lately.

Let me tell you a bit about my driving background. I have held a full UK driving licence for over 13 years and during that time I have never been involved in a smash, have never been stopped by the police, never been snapped by a speed camera, never had any points on my licence or even had a parking ticket. Like most of my ambulance service colleagues I hold an IHCD D2 emergency response driving certificate and I regularly drive powerful rapid response vehicles whilst at work. I have passed every driving test I have sat first time and I am a member of the Institute of Advanced Motorists (IAM). I am often described as an "Anal driver" because I drive using the system of car control that I was taught when I became a qualified advanced driver. Because I still drive to that standard I consider myself to be in a position to criticise the appalling driving displayed on the roads today.

Here are a few of my observations to help you arrive at your destination in one piece:-

• Audi drivers always need to get somewhere quicker than you
• Mini drivers are always putting their make up on
• White Van drivers must make that important phone call in the outside lane of the M5 at 90mph whilst eating a burger and reading The Sun
• Taxi drivers should be avoided at all costs. Who knows where they obtained their driving licence!
• Bus drivers, see Taxi drivers
• Any driver that is wearing a hat will do something unpredictable and dangerous
• Cyclists are exempt from every single rule in the highway code and have anger management issues
• Motorcyclists wearing all in one leathers that match the colour of their bike are going to kill themselves
• Clean 4X4's will drive into the back of you as the woman driving will be facing the rear seats shouting at the brats in the back
• HGV drivers navigate by using the rumble strip of the hard shoulder
• Giving way at roundabouts is totally optional
• Three cars can pass a red traffic light if it has just changed. More if the lights are at roadworks.

If you follow these observations you may just arrive at B in the same state you left A.

Scruffy buggers

A few days ago I attended the funeral of a local Police Officer who died whilst on duty. Local dignitaries from the county attended along with representatives from other uniformed services. Seeing these other services turned out immaculately in their parade uniforms highlighted how much of an embarrassment the modern ambulance service uniform has become.

Not so long ago, when you called upon the ambulance service, two chaps would turn up in a white door mobile wearing a peaked cap and a stiff blazer. Their ambulance would be gleaming white with all the chrome polished. Their uniform would be neatly pressed, their buttons shining, their tie straight and their boots bulled so you could see your face in them.

Over the years the NHS ambulance service has spent millions of pounds chasing the infamous eight minute target time. But in doing so it has had to sacrifice money in other areas. Nowhere is this more evident than when we join other uniformed services to honour a fallen colleague.

Thunderbirds. Are. Go!

5, 4, 3, 2 ,1..... Thunderbirds are go! Dum dum da dum, da dum dum dum da da da da dum.....

Historically there has only been three, sorry, two emergency services (we are classed as an essential service just like bin men and road sweepers!). Police, Fire and Ambulance. Police to protect the scene, Fire to put out a fire or rescue someone and Ambulance to carry them off to hospital. This has worked reasonably well for many years. Now, however, we have HART or Hazardous Area Response Team with their riot shields and body armour, their fireproof suits and breathing apparatus and their Ambu.... oh wait. That’s right. They don't actually have an ambulance.

I have had two dealings with HART to date. The first was a chip pan fire at an elderly person’s complex where Police had stopped anyone getting too close, Fire had extinguished the fire and rescued the occupant and we had assessed and discharged the occupant. Yet HART still insisted on attending in full BA gear just in case Fire (who had packed up and gone by now) had missed someone. The second was a single vehicle entrapment RTC. Police had closed the road to stop anyone getting too close and Fire removed the roof of the car and helped us extract the patient so we could transport to hospital. HART were stood on the side of the road looking like lost little boys who had not been picked for the team. Not just one or two of them mind but 25. That’s right. 25 paramedics, without an ambulance, stood at the side of the road doing nothing. All for one patient.

I'm sure their training will come in handy when the brown stuff hits the fan but let’s be honest, during the last year, how many major incidents have there been in your trust? There were 8 in mine.

Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Wilfred Owen

Maybe the coward should have read this poem before he decided to break into the house of an 83 year old veteran of D Day. Maybe the coward should have read this poem before he battered an 83 year old veteran of D Day. Maybe the coward should have read this poem before he stole the medals belonging to an 83 year old veteran of D day.

Instead of a slap on the wrist and a £10 fine paid off at £1 a week, sign the little scumbag up to the Army and send him off to Afghanistan. Then tell every soldier fighting for their country what the scumbag did. Let’s see how big and hard he is then.

Do you know who I am?

It appears that during my last run of shifts I was called out to a celebrity. Now I'm no subscriber to OK or Hello magazines but I do watch a fair bit of telly so I do know of some famous people. I also know of a few celebrities who live on my patch. So when a call came in to one of the more dodgy, sorry, deprived areas of town the last person I expected to have on the back of my ambulance was a breakfast TV star.

We've all seen the Little Britain character Vicky Pollard and we all know her catchphrase of "Yer but, neow but, yer but, neow but...." and we are all familiar with that dayglo pink Kappa tracksuit and we all know she is the definition of a Chav. So when I arrived at the address to find the front door hanging off its hinges and someone using four letter words I have never heard of to get their point across with their own personal police officer keeping guard, I was expecting to brush shoulders with Vicky and not someone who has been a star of.......... The Jeremy Kyle show! Not once, not twice but three times! True chat show royalty then.

Not something I would brag about but she took great pleasure in telling me and anyone else who cared to listen. Or that’s what I think she was saying. The alcohol and the inability to sound her "TH's" along with the four letter words certainly made understanding her difficult. With a confused and disgusted look on my face I was waiting for her to ask "Do yous know oo da f**k I is? Innit. Spec bruv".

Not Healthy Service

Next time you are outside an A&E department take a look at the nearest ambulance man or woman. Over the past few years I've noticed that I and my colleagues are becoming slightly portly. I know we are all getting slightly older and maybe letting ourselves go but I have a theory on our expanding waist lines.

The modern ambulance service is a 24/7 operation. We work some of the most unsociable shifts of any profession. What other profession works 1700-0300 or 0100-1300 for example? Because of the way in which we are allocated our breaks (if you are lucky enough to have breaks) chances are you are not going to feel like eating. We don’t get elevenses. We don’t get a lunch hour. We don’t get an afternoon coffee break. We eat and drink when we get the chance. And because of this we usually eat microwave meals or junk food from the local burger van in 30 seconds flat. It's usually washed down with some form of fizzy sugary soft drink or, in the case of night shifts, some form of energy drink.

Couple the poor diet with the amount of time we spend sat on our arse driving from pointless standby to pointless standby, the fatigue of working 12 hour shifts, not to mention that gyms have now stopped giving us discount, you can see why NHS now stands for Not Healthy Service when it comes to the ambulance service

Taxi

I have worked for the ambulance service for just over 6 years now. I have seen sights that should never be seen on a battlefield and smelt things that would turn the stomach of a rat. I have brought life into this world and watched life fade away. I consider myself to be a placid person and there is not much that touches a raw nerve these days but a few days ago a patient did something that really made my blood boil.

Now I don't know about you but I will only dial 999 in an emergency. The English dictionary defines the word emergency as "a sudden, urgent, usually unexpected occurrence or occasion requiring immediate action". So for me to dial 999 the person I'm calling for will need to be, to all intents and purpose, dead. Yet the word emergency means something completely different to some members of society. These people deny someone who genuinely needs medical assistance access to an emergency ambulance.

The lad stated that he had taken an overdose of an unknown quantity of various painkillers. His girlfriend was very upset which was understandable. Despite no physical evidence of an overdose we could not question his integrity and took him to the nearest A&E.

On the way in to hospital, the upset girlfriend took a phone call and mentioned that she was in an ambulance with her boyfriend and that she was on her way to the hospital. Nothing unusual about that. She said they would be arriving in about 10-15 minutes. Again nothing unusual as perhaps a family member was meeting them at the hospital. However, the lad wasn't the sharpest tool in the box and gave me an address that was a five minute walk from the hospital. Alarm bells stated ringing and as soon as the back door was open the lad was out like a scalded cat giving me a two fingered salute.

45 minutes of emergency ambulance time had been wasted on this lad. He wasted the time of a BT operator, he wasted the time of a 999 call taker, he wasted the time of an ambulance dispatcher, he wasted the time of two trained medical professionals, he wasted the diesel, he wasted the maintenance costs but what really made my blood boil was the fact he abused a service to get a free lift home.

We may be yellow but we are not a taxi service.