Einstein : Not everything that can be counted counts. And not everything that counts can be counted.

Wednesday, 23 May 2007

Getting home.

Having had another perusal at the gadget blog :


and had another case of total recall I drifted off to another of my life experiences on a dark and otherwise dreary night. Whilst responding to a job and getting flagged down to find a van in a ditch, public franticly not knowing what to do and everso, everso glad to see a blue flashing light heading their way, screeching to an emergency stop in an effort (successfully) to avoid further casualties and then to alight (get out) onto the verge to find said van, in ditch, front end into a tree. Driver still in seat, hysterical wife and then it dawns, I have to make a decison here. Radio for help, get public to ring 999 on their phones, check on welfare of driver, try to keep hysterical wife off my back, ask for assistance to comfort hysterical wife. Then it dawns, all of a sudden like. Driver appears serious, no pulse, no breath, must get him out for C.P.R. Try to get him out, seat belt so tight could not even get to release. Round to the nearside, lift driver to release and then back round to driver door to try to get him out onto verge, get him out and slide down bank into ditch. Depsite pleas no-one helps, all dialling 999 apparently. No Doctor on scene, unlike in the films. Get driver up onto verge and check vitals, begin C.P.R. Request further help comforting wife. Continue for 19 minutes (apparently) before arrival of ambulance. Continue with chest compression apart from when zapped (after advice from the zapper) and after another 20 minutes the sad reality dawned. I failed. We failed, we all failed. Yet somehow it seemed worthy of the effort. Not a long time to try one's best, for the sake of a life. And after that remarkably short time I was bloody knackered, a failure. I failed to protect a life even though I had tried my hardest. The blood and whatever else was all over me just didn't seem to matter. All I could think about was the driver's dinner suit and posh shirt. The ambulance crew just ran scissors up a sleeve, down a leg and right up the middle of his shirt. I hope it wasn't on hire, what ever will they say when they get it back ? Even lost a shoe somewhere in the ditch. Funny what you think of at times like this. I never did get to that other job, but at least I did get home, eventually.

1 comment:

Ann said...

Thank you very much for sharing your thoughts. It is always great pleasure to read your posts.